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Wiki • Career Chart • Lore (Brief) • Thargoids • Sagittarius Eye Magazine • The Elite Squadron
Game Update Summaries: Core • Horizons • Beyond • 2019-2020 • Odyssey

Hi, guys! I'm back. I've just finished reading Starset's new novel, A Brief History of the Future, and i really needed to share it.
Some of you may know me from my previous posts on the Starset lore:

• In "The Starset lore Part I: Transmissions", I covered the events told in The Prox Transmissions (Starset's first novel) and linked them to the album Transmissions.
• In "The Starset lore Part II: DivisionsThe Starset lore Part II: Divisions", I tried to gather the information we had on the new storyline, mainly based on Divisions content (Horizons hadn't released yet by then) and I shared my speculations about its meaning.

Now that I've read this book, I want to sum up what we have now. Keep in mind that, for obvious reasons, this post is all spoiler content. If you plan to read the book(s) I encourage you to do so, because I'm unveiling some of the main "plot-twists" in the second book. I won't be writing a literal summary of the book's plot (I will focus on the content more than in the "drama"), but key elements of it will appear. Also, I'm taking for granted you are already familiar with the contents in The Prox Transmissions -if not, I recommend you reading my post or just dropping this post altogether and go read the book!
If you have already read the books, don't plan to read them or don't care about the spoilers, stay with me along this long post because you will discover much about Divisions, Horizons... and what's coming next!!
Let's go then!
In a unknown year the novel starts in a world dominated by a state called the New East. it's not explicit in the book, but we have reasons to identify the New East with China: it is a current superpower and the powerful people in control have Chinese names. This state is governed by a Governing Committee, composed by Ministers that stay in charge for 5 years, with an exception: the Minister of Security, also known as MinSec. He is the head of the New East's secret police and he is to remain in charge for life.
Prior to 2024, Aston Wise (remember he was one of the protagonists of the previous novel!) is locked up by the US Government. They force him to create the BMI and its Architecture. In 2024, as I have said, the New East manages to obtain it and the big war starts. This part of the story is also explained deeper in a video (called "Initial Debriefing", available in Starset's YouTube channel since September 9th, 2021), with some minor incongruencies:

In the year 2010, the US Defense Advance Research Projects Agency -or DARPA- began work on a neural link system known as the "Brain Machine Interface" developed under the highest levels of secrecy. This technology was to be used in covert espionage campaigns with the goal of giving the US a major advantage in the ever-growing cyber warfare battlefield. The intention was to use the "BMI" on unsuspecting foreign agents, giving US Intelligence a remote line into their minds. Launched in 2020 to great success, the BMI provided a window into the intentions and secrets of numerous potential adversaries. Then, in 2021, a botched operation allowed this technology to fall into the hands of an undisclosed state who would then use it agains the US itself for over a decade. This state -which came to be known as the New East- used this technology to syphon intellectual property and assert control over the US, allowing it to rise swiftly as a global superpower. In the early 2030s, the crippled US launched an attack to the New East. This was quickly thwarted. However, as the New East was fully aware and prepared, in the end, the US and its allies capitulated and became known simply as the New West. Citizens of the New West, now mostly impoverished laborers, were offered BMI implantation -sold on the wonders of its amazing benefits. Eventually though, all were made to comply. Only then did the true goals of the New East become apparent.

The New West is a de facto and de iure protectorate. The New West has its own local police -that dealt with murder and robbery-, but the military and, most important, the Civil Authorities (CA), are controlled by MinSec -focused on thought crime.
Soon after the end of the war, some people were drafted for the reclamation in Virginia by the New East army. This was a forced-labor suicide mission because it was a fallout zone. The goal was the recovery of documents from the US, such as blueprints for advanced weapons and intel. Those who survived, developed NeuroTIDS (neural tissue interface degeneration syndrome) because of the radiation.
Once in control of the US (now New West), the New East implanted into all citizens the BMI. Now, people deal with three layers of reality: unaltered reality (UR), augmented reality (AR) and virtual reality (VR). Considering the BMI, there are three states:

• BMI glowing white (normal state: people are in UR with elements of AR).
• BMI glowing blue (also called frosting: people are in VR having some pleasant experience, while looking absent and apathetic in the outside). See an example of person frosting in the Diving Bell music video.
• BMI glowing red (also called supplication).

(There also exists the Everything Machine in this storyline. Indeed, people ate only printed food, as real food as reserved for the New East).
On top of this, there’s an intelligent algorythm or artificial intelligence in the Architecture, called the Overseer. It is capable of detecting thought crimes by accessing a person's sensory input and also altering their perceptions (for example, blurring texts from banned books). When a thought crime is detected, CAs intervene and turn the perpetrator into a supplicant. Supplicants are stuck in VR prisons while their bodies wander in the streets or are collected and put into "corrals". See an example of a supplication facility in Where the Skies Ends music video.
The protectorate of the New East upon the New West is mantained thanks to the Quantum Comunicator, which keeps both connected and also connected to the Architecture
On the other hand, there's a rebel network still in function. They manage to meet and develop their plans by modding their BMIs, so that they become undetectable under the eyes of the Overseer. Their plan is to trap the MinSec and use their credentials to get access to the Architecture and destroy it from the inside.
(In Manifest music video you can see examples of people frosting, people supplicated, the modding minor surgery, the rebels, the CAs using their "freezing" weapons and supplicating civilians and a bigwig from the New East, maybe the MinSec himself).
Also, it is said that the New East didn't manage to conquer all the Old West (US) territories. There's rumours about the socalled Western Territories, free land where some former rebels already live, though its real existence it's in never confirmed in book. In The Breach music video we can see how a family leaving in the New West takes the opportunity of escaping into the Western Territories during some sort of shutdown.
The New West capital is established in Philadelphia, where the events in A Brief History of the Future are set. Here's the Quantum Communication Center and the New West Center for Advanced Innovation (CAI), where the most brilliant programming students are sent to develop their skills and work for the New West/East. One of this students is one of the protagonists of this book, Thomas Bell (again, someone whose name we are already familiar...), who quickly proves to be the best one and gets to be chosen as the Director's assistant. Eventually we get to discover the Director is Aston Wise and later on we find out he is the Architect himself.
A feature or app of the BMI that will reveal crucial to the plot is the Shadowcast: one can frost but, instead of being conscious in a VR, "enters" inside a celebrity's mind for an hour and experiences all they are experiencing live (the user is passive and can only perceive, but not intervene or influence the shadowcast celebrity into doing anything). You can see an example of this in Symbiotic music video, where the user is finally able to successfully Occupy the body of the celebrity. In the book, when this happens, the person occupied has their BMI turned purple.
In the book, Occupation will be a tool used by Bell and Wise, but also by the government, in an attempt of using the supplicated bodies to their own purposes. The original project launched by the New East and commissioned to the Director of the CAI (Aston Wise), was called by Wise himself 'Project X'. New East wanted to present it to the citizens as a way of emancipating from work: while working, you can let yourself be occupied by the Overseer, who wil perform your job while you can be having fun in VR. In Icarus music video you can see an ad made by the New East to promote the "benefits" of this technology (called Werk here); the other ads are based on previous BMI technology (AR, VR and Shadowcast). (Fun fact: have you noticed that the actor in 3:12 is the same from the Ricochet music video?).
As I said in the beginning, it is not my goal to sum up the book's plot and even though I have already spoiled you much info and some plot-twists, I'm not telling you here how the story of the protagonists develops and how it ends. However, I can't refrain from telling you this: the last page of the book has a QR that redirects to a video that has me really excited.
In the video, we see a man. He tells us it is 2048. In spring 2026, the New East took over the US. But... guess who's back! Oh, yes, the Order! Or rather they were there all along. In fact, the man who's talking to us is Stephen Browning! On July 4th of 2026, after the New East invasion, the Order tried to launch a spacerocket to get to "a lonely planet" (Prox!), but it was intercepted by the New East and then the army destroyed their base, so they lost all hope in a future on another planet. However, they managed to hide a "time mechanism" (I guess the same they had in The Prox Transmissions) and, finally, sent a message to 2024, warning us about this future that awaits us. Then he sais:

Dear Order friends, the time has finally arrived. We're headed to space. We're going go Prox.

This announcement matches Starset's video from six months ago ("It begins. And it ends. Now."), where we see images of astronauts and spacerockets, evoking space travel. Wow! Did you miss that "space-y" aesthetic, plots and sound from Transmissions and Vessels? Because it sounds like we're getting them back! Note that at the end of this video, the three dots of the BMI are occupied by three symbols:

• The bottom one is the symbol of the Order, appears at the beginning of each chapter in The Prox Transmissions.
• The middle one is the symbol of Divisions album, I'd say it's a symbol of the rebels.
• The top one is... unknown? It is quite similar to me to the symbol in Faultline, but I guess it represents the "following chapter"? Who knows.

It also matches the music video for Starset's last single, Brave New Word! And there's more news: the end of the video linked in A Brief History Of the Future ends with a "to be continued in Spring 2025".
So... Again, there are some questions left unanswered (and I love that!): How are both books linked? Are they the same Aston Wise and Thomas Bell, but in an alternative timeline? From where will the story continue? (The Order in 2048 colonising Prox?). I'm soooo excited to learn what's coming next and to listen Starset's next album (I love Brave New World).
Let me know about your impressions, opinions, theories... feel free to add any info I could have missed, to correct any piece I could be mistaken about, etc. Thank you so much for your attention (I literally created this account only to write these Starset lore posts I feel very invested to and English isn't even my first or second language), I hope you enjoyed it and found it useful!!

Task Force Monarch - Discord
Task Force Monarch - Website
Who are we?
We are a UK based ArmA III MilSim that pride ourselves in creating compelling campaigns with the aid of real-life international hard-politics and inspiration from prior conflicts involving UK Elite Special Forces.
We have an extensive selection process that reflects the UKSF Joint Selection Process. We greatly pride ourselves on our use of extensive skills such as CQC, Air-Assault, Close Protection, HUMINT and more. We rely on heavily detailed, intel-orientated campaigns and rarely have deployments / operations with pre-determined endings.
We are capable on providing a realistic yet enjoyable operation to our members. Our Operations are every saturday at 17:30 EST/10:30 GMT.
Detachments and positions Within Our Unit

• B Squadron SAS: UKSF 22nd Special Air Service B Squadron [Direct Action, Close Protection, COIN]
  • Patrol I/C and 2I/C
  • SF Medic
  • Weapons Specialist
  • Signals - FO/JTAC
  • Trooper

​

• X Squadron SBS: UKSF Special Boat Service X Squadron [Direct Action, Close Protection, COIN, Maritime Ops]
  • Patrol I/C and 2I/C
  • SF Medic
  • Weapons Specialist
  • Signals - FO/JTAC
  • Marine

​

• O Squadron SRR: UKSF Special Recognisance Regiment [Direct Action, HUMINT, COIN, Long Range Recon, Close Recognisance, HUMINT]
  • Patrol 2I/C
  • SF Medic
  • Signals - FO/JTAC
  • Trooper

​

• JSFAW: Joint Special Forces Aviation Wing
  • Rotary-Wing pilots and crew
  • Drone Operator
  • Support Weapon Systems Operator

​

• Joint Task Force HQ: Mission Design & Zeusing
  • Intelligence & Operations OfficeAnalyst: Zeus & Roleplayers

​

• SIS-MI6: Intel

What are our Deployments like?
As a brief summary, our operations are fast-paced, well planned and well executed.
However, in more detail, our operations are greatly based on real-world situations that the UKSF detachments are involved in. The planning of our deployments usually commence upwards of 3 months before the first operation. This planning includes extensive research, "news reports" and intelligence documentation that our J-2 and SIS-MI6 staff create. Once our deployment has started, our operations are rich in detail, intel, and role-play interactions.
All of this culminates into a big picture which allows detachment commanders and staff to surgically strike to defeat or destabilise the enemy. If certain information is not accumulated or is not acted upon this could change the course and outcome of the campaign.
Our deployments can span over multiple maps to simulate multiple provinces and regions. We usually take between 6 to 8 weeks to complete our campaigns.
Availability within detachments
Task Force HQ (OPEN)
22nd SAS - BSqn 7 Troop (OPEN)
SBS - XSqn 8 Troop (OPEN)
SRR - 0Sqn 3 Troop (CLOSED)
JSFAW (OPEN)
Entry Requirements * You must be 18 or older (Exceptions can be made on a strict probationary period) * You must have a legal copy of Arma 3 * You must have a working microphone * You must be proficient in English * You must be willing to be mature and dedicated to the unit * You must own APEX DLC (Tanoa) * A new Member must be willing to go through training & selection. * A new member must be willing to conform to rules and regulations set out on our discord.
How to Join us To join us, all you need to do is simply go to the discord link bellow, wait for a recruiter to contact you in #recruitment-chat and apply on the website from the links bellow.
Task Force Monarch - Discord
Task Force Monarch - Website
CSgt. G. Bendall
X Squadron, 8 Troop SBS IC
Directing Staff

the neil in this scene is the one that supposedly was recruited by the protagonist in the future. wouldn't the future protagonist have briefed neil on everything that would have taken place? why did neil bother chasing the protagonist that was coming out of the turnstile in ROTAS?

Okay so I have been thinking for days for a name for a town name for one of my future story’s and since I need helping coming up with a name I’m asking y’all and so ima give you guys a brief summary of the story.
The time will be set in the 1890s, during that time they where using wagons and horses as transportations. So it will start off with a girl, (haven’t came up with her name either ;-;) she was born in the said town and learned how to ride a horse at an early age, but she did something which resulted in bed parents sending her to boarding school in the city. After 6 years (She was 9 when she was sent to boarding school so now she is 15 when she returns.) she returns.
Thats the main reason the whole story will start, I know it sounds kinda boring but let me cook! Jk, but to give you guys a better idea it’s gonna be similar to the show, Spirit Riding Free. its gonna have chapters where the characters go on random adventures and do stupid stuff like that. I would really appreciate it if y’all help me out, and thank you!

Demographics

• Gender: Male
• Race/Ethnicity: Indian
• Residence: Massachusetts
• Income Bracket: Upper Middle Class
• Type of School: Mediocre Public school
• Hooks: Immigrant but US Citizen
• Intended Majors & Minors: Applied Math, AI, Entrepreneurship, Engineering & Computer Science

Academics

• GPA (UW/W): 4.0/4.6
• Rank (or percentile): 8/300
• Classes: 12 APs, 3 Dual-Enrolments
• Senior Year Course Load: 3 APs (Computer Science, Chemistry, Psychology) 3 Dual-Enrolments (MIT OCW Linear Algebra, MIT OCW Multivariable Calc, English), Teacher Assistant for Calculus and Teacher Assistant for AP Physics C

Standardized Testing

• SAT: 1570 (770RW, 800M)
• AP Exams: Calculus AB (5), Physics 1 (5), Statistics (5), World History (5), Physics C: Mechanics (5), Calculus BC (5), AP CSP (4), US History (4), Lang (3)
• AMC 12: 136.5 (Top 200)

Awards/Honors

• Coca-Cola Scholar (150 Selected from 100K+)
• Harvard Guest Speaker on AI & ChatGPT in Education (6K+ Listeners). The Harvard Gazette wrote an article on me.
• MIT Hackathon 3rd place winner 2x (AI Recipe Generator & AI Therapist)
• Presented at International Education & Social Justice Conference (Peer-reviewed) at University of Hawaii
• MIT LLCipher Summer Program (3% Acceptance Rate). Invited back as Guest Speaker the following year.
• Wrote Boston Globe Article on AI & ChatGPT in Education
• AMC 12 Distinction (2x) and AIME Qual (2x)
• President's Volunteer Service Gold Award
• AP Scholar with Distinction & AP Scholar with Honor
• Multiple other Math Competition, Model UN, and Marching Band Awards

Extracurriculars/Activities

• MIT Lincoln Laboratory Summer Intern: Advanced Research in AI & Networking (1% Acceptance Rate). Internship primarily for Grad and Undergrad students. Received a return offer for summer before college.
• Writer: 110+ articles on Medium with 200K+ reads. Published by the Boston Globe and other publications.
• Antarctic Research: Climate Research and Data Analysis at UW-Madison.
• MA State House Internship: Worked for State Rep. Wrote a policy brief on AI. Promoted to Campaign Manager in 2024.
• Math Team Coach & Captain: Coach students and top scorer. 4x Regional Champions (First time in history). 2x AIME qual and 2x AMC Distinction (AMC Score: 136.5).
• Students of Color Affinity Group President: Mentor students and lead professional development workshops; presented at International Education & Social Justice Conference at University of Hawaii.
• AP Physics C & Calculus Teacher Assistant: Help teach 70+ seniors at my school (ran out of classes hence TA lol).
• Model UN President: Perfect record and multiple awards at regional conferences.
• Karate Black Belt: 10+ years and help teach classes.
• Marching Band: 2nd in USBands Nationals (3x).
• Coding Instructor: Taught kids how to code in Python and JavaScript.
• Sales Head & Data Analyst at National STEM Honor Society: Promoted STEM education to underrepresented populations.
• JV Tennis: Doubles Player

Letters of Recommendation

• AP Calculus Teacher
• Math Department Head and Physics TeacheMath Team Coach
• MIT Lincoln Lab Research Mentor (MIT Alum)
• Diversity, Inclusion, and Equity Director of my school (Harvard Alum)
• Massachusetts State Representative

Essay Summaries

• Common App: During the pandemic, I found personal growth and a deeper understanding of myself and society through writing, which led me to explore artificial intelligence and its applications, culminating in an internship at MIT and advocacy work, and inspiring my entrepreneurial ambitions.
• Community Disruption: When the pandemic disrupted my activities, I leveraged online platforms to continue learning and leading, discovering new interests in AI and entrepreneurship, and demonstrating resilience by revitalizing my school’s clubs and engaging in new ventures, setting the stage for my future in innovation.
• Additional Information: Links to various articles and videos, and other activities and awards.
• Supplementals: Some were very reflective about my identity, activities, and goals in life. Others were light-hearted and quirky. They were very personalized to the school and emphasized how I fit in, what I would bring to the school, and how I would use the school as a catalyst for my entrepreneurial ventures.
• Additional Uploads: Uploaded my Resume, portfolio of Articles, and a summary of my Research at MIT Lincoln Lab.

Interviews

• Harvard (REA): Great Conversation and said Harvard would have to fight MIT for me. 9/10
• MIT: My Interviewer was very disinterested and didn't care. It was 15 minutes and he said if I don't get in then who would. 6/10
• Princeton: It was a great conversation and said he would fight for me. 8/10
• Yale: It was also a good conversation and she said she would fight for me. 8/10
• UPenn M&T: Guy kept asking technical questions and I was lost. But in the end, he said I did good and he would fight for me, even though interviews don’t matter too much. 7/10
• Dartmouth: Lady was super impressed and said if I don’t get in then she is quitting doing interviews for Dartmouth. 9/10

College Results
Accepted

• WPI (with Max Scholarship, Half off)
• UW-Madison
• Northeastern (with Max Scholarship, Half off)
• Georgia Tech for CS (Early Action)
• Cornell (Meinig Family Cornell National Scholar)
• Dartmouth
• Duke
• UPenn (Waitlisted M&T)
• Harvard (Waitlisted → Accepted)
• Princeton (Committed)

Waitlisted

• UMich (Early Action)
• Vanderbilt

Rejected

• USC (lol)
• Yale
• Stanford
• MIT (This one hurt)

Reflections:
I'm super grateful and happy with my decisions. I have committed to Princeton, and it definitely is the best fit for me. College results this year were very random, but I couldn’t be more thankful to get into the #1 undergraduate university. I was worried that since most of my application was MIT-related (Research, classes, Letters of Rec, Awards, Activities), other universities would think I was going there and reject me. College results were super random and stressful, but it worked out better than I could have ever imagined. It's funny how I got waitlisted and rejected from all my target schools (Vandy, UMich, USC) but then got into most of my reach schools.
Advice for Future Applicants:
Be authentic. There is no formula that gets you in. Sure, you have to do a couple of things like getting good grades and SAT scores and having some unique activities and awards, but especially for Top 10 schools, you just have to be unique and authentic. I didn't have any connections or background (like private school and college counselor) that provided me with opportunities. I was literally the first kid ever from my school to get into Princeton. I was authentic and hardworking, did stuff I enjoyed, and one thing led to another. I also spent a lot of time on essays and my application. 50% of the work is actually doing stuff, and the other 50% is showcasing it in your college application. Also, have balance in life. I had a lot of fun in high school and enjoyed the stuff I did. Live life with no regrets. Feel free to DM me.

Hi there! Do you require some Panchkula courses to get started in the field of digital marketing? I've got you covered! This is a brief overview to assist you in locating the top courses on digital marketing available. You can find a lot of possibilities by searching for "best digital marketing courses in Panchkula" on Google. Choose those that have thorough course summaries and positive evaluations. Local Colleges and Institutes, Digital marketing courses are frequently offered by locations like Chandigarh University or neighborhood training centers. For further information, give them a call or visit their websites.
Here are some Institutes that can really help you in your quest:-

1. IIDE - Indian Institute of Digital Education:- Hey! If you’re thinking about getting into digital marketing, you should totally check out IIDE – the Indian Institute of Digital Education. They’re one of the top-notch institutes around, known for their killer courses and awesome trainers. Plus, they offer a mix of online and offline classes, so you can learn in a way that suits you best. Whether you're a newbie or looking to upskill, IIDE’s got you covered!
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Happy Learning !!

The Great Serpent, The Formless Mother, and The Blood Star
I believe that the Great Serpent of Mt. Gelmir and The Formless Mother are related through Red Glintstone and The Blood Star. The nature of their relationship is unclear at this time, and although I have a theory I will not make any claim of certainty. Still, I think there is strong evidence that they share some significant ties to one another, and these connections lead to some interesting questions/observations about the nature of the Outer Gods.
Before I start I should acknowledge that:

1. This game’s lore is often purposefully obtuse and it’s extremely difficult to say anything concrete.
2. While mechanics and lore interact really well in Fromsoft games, sometimes a mechanic exists because it’s fun and cool, and not because it reveals some deeper truth about the story.
3. I am not an Elden Ring Lore expert. I am also not a real life anthropologist, historian, writer, or anything else that would give me any real insight into these games and their lore or themes. I just think this stuff is neat.

Red Glintstone and The Blood Star
With that out of the way, let’s begin by talking about Red Glintstone. Most of the information about it comes from a few items, The Staff of the Guilty and Alberich’s Set. The Staff of the Guilty is a staff wielded by Thorn Sorcerers, found in certain areas of Liurnia and the Mountaintops of the Giants. The Thorn Sorcerers are criminals who have been punitively blinded with briars, and placed into servitude as soldiers under the Fire Monks. An excellent video by SmoughTown (which I will reference heavily from this point on) goes into much greater detail on the nature of these aberrant mages.
Alberich’s Set is the clothing of Mad Tongue Alberich, a former servant of the Roundtable Hold and heretical sorcerer. Most players will encounter him when he invades on the ground floor of the Roundtable, however his set is acquired from the Roundtable’s physical counterpart, the Fortified Manor in Leyndell.
The Staff of the Guilty reads:

“A heretical staff fashioned from a smoldering, withered sapling that turns the blood of sacrifices pierced by it into glintstone. Similar to hex magic.
Sorceries are scaled with faith rather than intelligence when wielding this staff which enhances Thorn sorceries in particular.”

Alberich’s Set (specifically the robe) reads:

“Mad Tongue Alberich's robe.
Set with red glintstones said to be formed by the blood of sacrifices. Strengthens thorn sorcery.
Alberich was an aloof yet disturbed heretical sorcerer said to have been driven mad by jeering tongues during his service to the Roundtable Hold long ago.”

What we learn from these items is that Red Glintstone is a form of Glintstone created from the blood of sacrifices. This is an odd property for any type of Glintstone to possess, since all other sources of information surrounding Glintstone imply that it is heavily related to the Stars and the Primeval Current, not something as terrestrial as blood.
The beginnings of an explanation for this come from the descriptions of two spells, namely those used by the Thorn Sorcerers and Alberich himself. These spells are called Briars of Sin and Briars of Punishment which read:

“An aberrant sorcery discovered by exiled criminals. Theirs are the sorceries most reviled by the academy.
Wounds the caster with thorns of punishment, sending a trail of bloodthorns running over the ground to impale enemies from below…
The guilty, their eyes gouged by thorns, lived in eternal darkness. There, they discovered the blood star.”

So the Blood Star seems to be a celestial body that appears to the guilty after they are blinded. Again, SmoughTown’s video goes into great detail on this topic, but the brief summary is that it is an entity in and of itself, as many stars appear to be within Elden Ring’s cosmology. It is also the source of the astral properties necessary for a stone formed of blood to function as Glintstone. Through a combination of faith in this entity, bodily sacrifice, and this specific variant of Glintstone, aberrant magic can be wielded.
Another possible mention of the Blood Star, though less direct, comes from the description of the Great Stars weapon:

“Huge bludgeon with three stars at the striking end. Though primarily a striking weapon, the stars' spikes cause blood loss.
A blood-stained star is an ill omen, a fact not lost upon those against whom this weapon is brought to bear. Landing attacks slightly restores HP.”

The phrasing of this “ill omen”, along with its ability to restore HP, will become relevant later.
The Formless Mother
A logical leap that many people have taken when researching these topics is to assume that the Blood Star is in some way related to The Formless Mother, the Outer God that bestows blood-related power to Mohg and his followers. At the risk of sounding repetitive, SmoughTown again explores this relationship, noting their similarities mechanically (the fact that magic from these sources causes the Hemorrhage/Blood Loss status effect) and thematically (the fact that both of these entities seem to seek bloodshed, demanding sacrifices explicitly or wounds generally). He does however say that there are enough differences in the information known about these figures to cast some doubt on them being one and the same. I agree with this, however I do still believe they are related in a way that I will discuss after mentioning the other source of Red Glintstone present in the game.
The Great Serpent of Mt. Gelmir
In the war ravaged landscape of Mt. Gelmir stands Volcano Manor, home of Praetor Rykard. Within this fortified castle’s prison town are the Man-Serpents, the results of a blasphemous breeding process who patrol and defend against intruders. And one particular man-serpent wields a staff, the Gelmir Glintstone Staff.

“Staff with a forked tip, embedded with red glintstones. Enhances lava sorceries.
The Man-Serpents of Mt. Gelmir draw from faith in addition to intelligence to enhance the potency of their sorcery.”

Once again we see Red Glintstone used in a spell catalyst, and again it imbues this tool with properties reliant on faith. For further detail, we need to look at some of the aforementioned Lava Sorceries that are enhanced by this staff.
Magma Shot reads:

“One of the sorceries developed from the magma of Mt. Gelmir. …
After discovering the ancient hexes of Gelmir, Rykard, son of Queen Rennala, brought them back into practical use as new forms of sorcery.”

These sorceries are ancient, originally practiced by the adherents of a pagan religion that worshiped the Great Serpent of Mt. Gelmir. The timeline of events is not explicit, but it is a reasonable assumption that Rykard's incorporation of these hexes into modern sorcery was a component of his adoption of the ancient Gelmir religion, and his worship and great sacrifice to the Serpent.
In addition, the practices of the Gelmir Pagans provide another tie between Red Glintstone and ritual sacrifice. The Serpent-God’s Curved Sword says:

“Curved sword fashioned in the image of an ancient serpent deity and tool of a forgotten religion practiced on Mt. Gelmir.
Formerly used to offer up sacrifices, this sword restores HP upon slaying an enemy.”

These sacrifices are likely the source of the Red Glintstone used to channel the magic of Mt. Gelmir.
The Connections
Red Glintstone, through its presence in the Gelmir Glintstone Staff, Staff of the Guilty, and Alberich's set, ties together the Thorn Sorceries, and by extension the Blood Star, with the Gelmir magics. If you agree with the idea that the Blood Star and the Formless Mother are also related, then this also bridges together the followers of Rykard and Mohg. But Red Glintstone is not the only commonality between these factions and practices.
In no particular order:
Both Gelmir Sorceries and the Staff of the Guilty mention “Hex Magic”. Along with this being a nod to Dark Souls 2’s magic system, this language seems to distinguish these schools of magic from other Sorceries or Incantations. In particular, it groups both of these into a class of magic deemed heretical by current magic practitioners.
As mentioned above, both the Gelmir Religion and the Blood Star explicitly mention sacrifices as a source of their power.
Both Thorn Sorceries and many of the skills of the Formless Mother require a tithe of the user’s blood to be paid. Thorn Sorceries and the skills Seppuku, Bloody Slash, and Blood Blade deal damage to the caster in addition to their enemies, incorporating the thematic idea of sacrifice into gameplay mechanics.
Again speaking mechanically, both the Formless Mother and the Great Serpent offer their adherents methods of healing via combat. The Blasphemous Blade, Serpent-God’s Curved Sword, Devourer’s Scepter, Taker’s Cameo, and Rykard’s Great Rune are all holy artifacts of the Gelmir Religion, either from the ancient era or from Rykard’s. Critically, they all confer the power of healing by defeating enemies, or simply by attacking them in the case of the Blasphemous Blade and Devourer’s Scepter weapon skills. While there are a few other methods of achieving this effect scattered amongst the factions of the Lands Between, one of the most notable practitioners is Mohg, who uses his Sacred Spear to heal himself with his Bloodboon Ritual. It is worth noting that one of the only other ways to achieve the effect of healing via combat is with the Great Stars, providing another possible tie between these groups. Here I will acknowledge that this line of reasoning does not include the Greathorn Hammer, Butchering Knife, Assassin’s Crimson Dagger, or Malenia’s Great Rune, the other notable examples of this type of mechanic. For those curious, I believe that Malenia’s healing is at least partially explained by VaatiVidya in his video on the topic. Vaati is a small up-and-coming lore channel and I’m sure the little guy could really use a like and a sub!
Perhaps most significantly though are the Recusant Finger and Bloody Finger items. These items, bestowed to the player after joining the ranks of Rykard and Mohg’s cults respectively, are functionally identical tools that allow invasions of other players’ worlds. Both are used for the express purpose of spilling Tarnished blood, and I do not believe it is a coincidence that they are related to the two demigods in question.
Given these threads connecting The Formless Mother, the Blood Star, and the Gelmir religion, what is the nature of their relationship? There seems to be a developing theme of "Similar but Different" as if these groups are warped reflections of one another. There is, in my opinion, a sense that these cultures and practices share some kind of common ancestry. Again, while I don’t feel confident enough to state it with certainty, I will provide a possible explanation informed, ironically, by the Greater Will.
A Star Bearing a Beast
Most mentions of stars in the game’s text come from sources that are associated with the Glintstone, the Astrologers, Raya Lucaria, Astel, etc. However there is at least one mention of a star that sheds some light on their relationship to Outer Gods, the description of Elden Stars:

“This legendary incantation is the most ancient of those that derive from the Erdtree.
…
It is said that long ago, the Greater Will sent a golden star bearing a beast into the Lands Between, which would later become the Elden Ring.”

It’s worth noting here that a topic often discussed by lore enthusiasts is the voice of the narrator in item descriptions, and the fact that it seems to change between items and vary in its reliability. For instance, rather than saying anything with concrete certainty here, it reads “It is said…” implying there is something apocryphal about the information. It is also worth mentioning that this description in particular is infamous in the community for muddying the waters on the nature of the Elden Ring, inscriptions found in Farum Azula, the timeline of the Lands Between, and many other topics.
Still, if we take this description at face value then it seems to imply that some stars, along with being entities themselves, are within the dominion of Outer Gods, and can be sent to the Lands Between “bearing beasts”. In the case of the Elden Star, a safe assumption would be that the beast in question is the Elden Beast, of frustrating boss fight fame.
Another item that relates ephemeral Outer Gods to corporeal creatures is the Twinbird Kite Shield:

“Shield featuring a vividly painted twinbird.
The twinbird is said to be the envoy of an outer god, and mother of the Deathbirds...”

Once again a presumably physical beast, the Twinbird, is said to be the envoy of an unnamed Outer God. If these two items represent a trend, then we can assume that Outer Gods have the ability to install “Beasts” in the Lands Between. The reason for this is unclear. They may be sent as sentient weapons to fight in proxy wars. It’s also possible that they are intended to be physical manifestations of the Outer Gods to spur worship. Thanks to the existence of the Two and Three Fingers, the Fire Giant, and Malenia, there is no shortage of evidence that the Outer Gods either require avatars in the Lands Between to communicate for them and exert their will, or at the very least prefer an indirect relationship for unknowable reasons. Regardless, it leads me to propose a theory:
The Theory
The Formless Mother, an Outer God, controled the Blood Star. This star was sent long before the current age to deliver a beast to the Lands Between, and this beast was the Great Serpent. Whether simply due to great expanses of time, the dominance of the Greater Will and the subsequent shunning of other Outer Gods, or some other reason that is left undiscovered, the link connecting these entities became faded, if not severed entirely. As a result, their once cohesive goals and principles diverged. The wounds craved by the Formless Mother became the sacrifices of sinners offered to the Blood Star, and the sacrificial practices of the Gelmir worshippers no longer satisfied the Serpent, now driven by world consuming avarice. These once merged forces were now fragmented, fated to fade into relative obscurity. Each sought new adherents in the sewers below the Erdtree, in the mountains overlooking it, and in the sinners exiled from it. The faithful of each deity created their own manner of worship, similar but different. This process can be observed in countless real world cultures who share common ancestry but diverge into discrete civilizations or religions. I believe that this explains the overlap between these seemingly disparate factions, while also accounting for their clear separation. Fromsoft has proven time and time again to be a team obsessed with the layering of culture and the echos of half-forgotten history, and I feel that this is yet another example of this theme.
I will say again that I am far from certain of this, as obviously there is no direct evidence of the Blood Star being "sent", or that every Outer God manifests a Beast. The Outer Gods are difficult to interpret at the best of times, and making generalizations about them is often unwise. Still, I believe strongly that some relationship of this type exists between these groups. I hope that with the DLC looming we may be given more information about the ancient era of the Lands Between and the various religions and cultures that existed prior to the dominance of Marika's Golden Order, but knowing Fromsoft I think it’s likely we’ll get more questions than answers.
Epilogue
If you’ve read this entire thing then the toilet seat is likely cutting off the circulation to your legs and you should stand up, but I greatly appreciate your time. Please let me know what you think of this theory, or if there’s anything you think I’ve misinterpreted or left out entirely.

Going back through the Season of the Witch, it’s clear we pretty much abuse the Tithe system to speed run Eris to be the strongest Hive that ever existed. Almost very “Vegeta abuses Zenkai” of us. And it made me wonder, outside of Oryx fighting Akka, the Hive Gods didn’t really abuse their get strong quick scheme and had no reason not to.
For brief summary, Oryx wanted to kill the strongest Worm God at the time Akka but was too weak. So he met with his two sisters in his throne world where they let him kill them so he could attain their power through Sword Logic. It worked he got strong enough and grew his power exponentially. So know he was omega strong since he just added the strongest Worm God to his list of bodies. And it’s been said they’ve killed each other before, but moreso sibling rivalry more than actually trying to kill one another permanently. So it’s not out of fear that one may actually try to give them a final death, but more so the equivalent to siblings having a fist fight but being cool with each other a couple centuries later.
So with that being said, why didn’t they just keep doing that whenever they faced an enemy that might present a challenge?

I recently found what I think may just be the single worst Harry Potter essay possible. It has all the classic marks of a shitty Shaun-style Harry Potter video, from fake "magic school maps" to missing the point of every single piece of worldbuilding to just sheer pretentiousness of it all. It doesn't even wait a literal second to be wrong, instantly slapping you in the face with "Harry's half-blood status has Nazi parallels" written in huge letters.
As I watched this... thing with morbid curiosity, I wondered how can anyone possibly be that dumb. Like, Harry Potter is one of the most popular franchises out there, and Harry's parents both being wizards forms the basis of everything that happens in it. Calling Harry a "half-blood" is so obviously wrong anyone can instantly call bullshit on this essay from the very first frame, provided they read even a semi-accurate summary of the first book. How can stuff like this possibly be any popular?
But then I remembered Odyssey exists.

What is Homer's "Odyssey"?

Odyssey is a poem detailing Odysseus return to his home island of Ithaca. Odysseus starts the story as a captive of Calypso, and the story of how he got there is described midway through the poem as a sort of extended flashback. He tells the story, gets kinda sentimental for a while, and then returns to the actual plot. Trojan War, Cyclopses, Circe, all of that is tangential and gets pretty much forgotten for the second half of the story.
But when you watch an explanation, or a "modern retelling" of the Odyssey, chances are it will go something like;

Odysseus swims away from Troy but gets lost in the sea. He has wacky amazing adventures where he tricks Polyphemus and gets horny for the Sirens and has sex with so many women (kinda unfair to his wife tbh) until he finally returns home. He then kills a bunch of people or something.

The "cool adventure" parts, or rather their misrepresented versions, get all the focus. The actual plot, the main conflict, the entire point of the story doesn't just get overshadowed but completely forgotten. And it's been going on since forever—that's how we ended up with the term "odyssey" that's synanymous with an epic journey, rather than anything Odysseus actually does in the damn Odyssey. The story itself gets fairly little discussion, because few people read even a brief summary of it. They just heard of the "cool parts" and so they form their own understanding of the story based on them, effectively writing a fanfic and mistaking it for the actual thing.
Now, I'm not really upset that people misrepresent Odyssey like that. It's inevitable, and honestly, I don't care about the original poem that much. But there's a point to be made there, and that is

If you're discussing a popular story, just assume everyone will misrepresent it

The more popular a story gets, the more people will have read it. But the number of people who just heard about the story without having actually read it will rise even faster, as will the confidence of these people. That's how you get rants about how "Rose from Titanic is a terrible person" and all these youtube essays that barely touch on the actual stories they ineptly attempt to criticize. It's far easier to find a quality take on something less popular; There may not be that many people talking about Cruelty Squad, but the ones that do have usually played the game, or at least have an accurate idea of what the actual product is like.
So yeah. If you wanna talk about something popular, just assume the person on the other side only knows a distorted meme version of the story, and be prepared to either explain the obvious, or argue about that meme version instead. Or just give up and don't mention that popular story at all, if you value your nerves.
If you instead want an honest discussion with no lies or misunderstandings, just talk about that one Dark Eldar BDSM fanfic I found on AO3. It's pretty good too.

CSS stands for Cascading Style Sheets, is a fundamental technology used in web development to control the presentation and layout of HTML documents. While HTML provides the structure of a webpage, CSS enhances its appearance by defining how HTML elements should be displayed on the screen, in print, or even as speech.
In order to understand the basic of CSS, we need to understand how it works. CSS works by selecting HTML elements using id, classess attributes or tags itself and applying styling rules to them. These rules dictate attributes such as color, size, font, spacing, and positioning. By separating content from presentation, CSS allows developers to create visually appealing and consistent designs across multiple web pages with ease.
CSS operates on a cascade principle, where multiple style rules can be applied to the same element, with specificity and order determining which rule takes precedence. This enables developers to efficiently manage styles across complex projects. CSS is one of the foundation in order to enhance the web development skills.
Over the years, CSS has evolved significantly, with new features and capabilities continually being added. CSS preprocessors like Sass and LESS have extended CSS’s functionality by introducing variables, mixins, and other programming constructs, making stylesheets more maintainable and scalable.
Furthermore, with the rise of responsive web design, CSS plays a crucial role in creating layouts that adapt to different screen sizes and devices, providing users with an optimal viewing experience across desktops, tablets, and smartphones.
Understanding of Cascading Style Sheet (CSS)

1. Selection of HTML Elements: CSS employs various selectors to target specific HTML elements or groups of elements. Selectors can be based on element type (e.g., for paragraphs), class (e.g., .header), ID (e.g., #main-content), or other attributes like data attributes or pseudo-classes (e.g., :hover for styling when the mouse is over an element). This flexibility allows developers to precisely target elements for styling.
2. Application of Styling Rules: Once an element is selected, CSS applies styling rules to it. These rules define how the element should appear and behave. CSS properties cover a wide range of design aspects, including:Color: Specifies the foreground and background colors.Size: Controls the dimensions of the element, such as width, height, padding, and margins.Font: Determines the typeface, size, style (e.g., bold, italic), and other text properties.Spacing: Manages the spacing between elements, including margins, padding, and borders.Positioning: Controls the placement of elements on the webpage, including static, relative, absolute, and fixed positioning.
3. Separation of Content and Presentation: One of the core principles of CSS is separating content from presentation. HTML defines the structure and content of a webpage, while CSS handles the presentation and layout. This separation allows developers to make changes to the design without altering the underlying content, making it easier to maintain and update websites.
4. Creating Visually Appealing Designs: CSS enables developers to unleash their creativity and design visually stunning websites. With CSS, developers can customize every aspect of the webpage’s appearance, from colors and typography to layout and animations. This flexibility empowers developers to create unique and engaging user experiences tailored to their audience.
5. Consistency Across Multiple Pages: By applying CSS rules consistently across multiple web pages, developers can ensure a cohesive and unified design language throughout the website. CSS allows developers to define styles once and apply them universally, saving time and effort while maintaining consistency across the site.

Properties of CSS
CSS properties are the building blocks that developers use to style HTML elements. These properties allow developers to control various aspects of an element’s appearance, layout, and behavior. Here are some commonly used CSS properties grouped by their functionalities:

1. Typography: This properties is used to control the various aspects of the text elements of HTML.font-family: Sets the font of the text.font-size: Sets the size of the text.font-weight: Specifies the thickness of the font.font-style: Defines the style of the font (e.g., italic).text-align: Aligns the text horizontally within its container.line-height: Sets the height of each line of text.
2. Color and Background: This properties is used to control the color of any HTML elements like < div >, < span >, < header > etc.color: Defines the color of the text.background-color: Sets the background color of an element.opacity: Specifies the transparency of an element.background-image: Sets an image as the background of an element.background-size: Defines the size of the background image.background-position: Specifies the starting position of the background image.
3. Layout: This properties is used to control the how the HTML elements will functions. For example, its display properties or height, or position etc.display: Defines how an element is displayed (e.g., block, inline, flex).width and height: Sets the width and height of an element.margin, padding, and border: Controls the spacing around and within an element.float: Positions an element to the left or right within its container.position: Specifies the positioning method of an element (e.g., static, relative, absolute, fixed).top, bottom, left, right: Sets the position of an element relative to its containing element.
4. Box Model: The box model is used to set the HTML elements in box like element by defining its height and width.box-sizing: Defines how the total width and height of an element are calculated.border-radius: Rounds the corners of an element’s border.box-shadow: Adds a shadow effect to an element.overflow: Specifies how content that overflows the element’s box is handled.
5. animation: Defines keyframe animations.transition: Specifies the transition effect for a CSS property.transform: Applies transformations (e.g., rotate, scale) to elements.

In summary, CSS is an indispensable tool for web developers, empowering them to transform HTML documents into visually appealing and functional web experiences. Understanding its principles and techniques is essential for anyone looking to create modern, professional-looking websites.
Read the Guide Here: https://leafyweb.com/home/project/brief-introduction-to-css/

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I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

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Hey everyone! This is my first time writing a script or actually publicly sharing anything I've written so please be kind :) I tried to do enough research on how to format these so hopefully I did okay. But constructive criticism is always appreciated.
If anyone wants to use this feel free just please credit and send me a link, I would love to listen it! Monetization is okay. I would prefer if you kept it as a m4f, f4f, m4a or f4a please. The sound effects are suggested not required so feel free to only use some of them or none of them and add your own sound effects if you want. There is a second speaker for a brief time in the beginning but you can just leave their parts out or voice it yourself if you want. That's it! Thanks! And if you read I hope you enjoy
Summary:A kind human discovers a borrowemouse person being forced to race for sport and rescues them and takes them shopping
Link: https://scriptbin.works/s/c35y3

Hello All,
Brief summary about my current vocal status: I'm used to singing everyday, currently in a band, and started noticing some vocal trouble over a month ago during rehearsals (voice wasn't easily reaching notes and felt strained after rehearsals). After that, I went on a Vegas trip with some friends, and after attending some concerts, my voice was pretty much gone for a day or two. After I came back from the trip, decided to give some vocal rest and let it heal, but never noticed such a feeling in my throat (hard to describe but its almost like a Sore Throat, but I can feel pain on the left side of my neck). A week ago, I decided to go to the doctor to see why it hasn't healed, and I was told its probably just a cold and he wrote me down for 'Acute Pharyngitis'. I was told to reach out a week later if symptoms didn't resolve. Well its been a week later, and I went to the Dr. today because my symptoms haven't improved, my voice hurts from talking and I have not been able to sing my usual range at all (I can sing within the normal register but trying anything a bit higher is not possible).
At the Dr. today, I was prescribed Pantoprazole (Proton Pump Inhibitor) and methylPREDNISolone (steroid). The thought process behind the Pantoprazole is that acid reflux may be swelling my throat, so I will start taking that tomorrow. For the methylPREDNISolone I was told to give it a few more days, and if still no improvement, to give it a shot. I was also referred to an E.N.T to get in touch and schedule a possible appointment for a Laryngscopy if symptoms do not heal.
I'm making this post to share my symptoms and see if anyone shared something similar because I initially thought this may be related to Vocal Nodules/Polyps, but based on my symptoms now I feel like they still fall under the category of a Flu/Cold thats just lasting a while and not letting my voice heal. I'm currently trying to do vocal rest, drink lots of fluids (including tea with honey), but its difficult as I do have to talk quite a bit at work.
Symptom List: (First 2 symptoms have been going on for about 2 1/2 - 3 weeks currently)

• Vocal Fatigue (From just talking. Singing obviously aggravates it more)
• Pain in Neck (I feel pain on my left (mostly left side), and sometimes on the right side, the middle area and under the jaw sometimes as well)
• Phlegm - Started noticing green and yellow phlegm for 2 days (started 2 days ago), but that has now subsided
• Vocal Hoarseness - Interestingly, people around me do not notice my voice being hoarse when I talk, but I can feel that it is not as smooth as before, and there is some gravely quality there.

I am really hoping this isn't a vocal nodule/polyp and is related to coming off a cold, but if symptoms do not get better I'll definitely be going to the E.N.T to get a scope done and check any other causes for these symptoms.

“What defines virtue and how are we to gauge it? An inquiry that reverberates through epochs, its answer as fickle and capricious as the fates of those who deem to ask it. Duty, honor, justice - many over the ages would name these virtues, the conduits through which noble intentions find expression. Yet, as the battlefield of beliefs unfolds, a legion emerges, each as sworn to these principles as to obliterating all who would dare stake alike claim. Thus, battles rage and wars are waged and, in the end, those who are left are no more right than those fell by the blade. Alas, it is the victors whose ideals are etched into monuments for posterity. Except even words chiseled in unyielding stone are fated to fade in time. So is the wicked cycle destined to repeat in all its futility, its ephemeral prize seized again, only to be lost and sought anew. Try and picture, if for but a moment, a world where our rulers paused to reflect on the lessons of yore. They, too, would discern the elixir that enables one to escape the confines of memory—the very burden our fleeting nature forbids us to carry. Progress and evolution. Adaptability and transcendence. Everlasting and yet not stagnant, irrefutable, and yet fluid, these are the only true virtues. Thus, must we ever venture into the uncharted and unfamiliar for only from these unexplored domains may the truly virtuous arise.”
Where: Discord (Video and Voice) + FoundryVTT
When: every Saturday 5 - 9/10 pm GMT+1 (CET), 11 am - 3/4 pm EST
Who: party of 4 players and a DM seeking one extra player
Updates: Recruitment updates will be posted here.
Hello there and well met! If you’ve made it past the flavor text (or skipped it) and through the basic info (hopefully didnt skip past that one) you might very well be at the right address! Without further ado onto the post.

🐲The campaign🐲

Having only just recovered from the Second Sundering and the War of the Silver Marches, the North had been ravaged by a whole new set of tumultuous events - the rise of the Cult of the Dragon and that of the Absolute, the Fall of Eltruel and the short reign of the beholder crime lord Xanathar just some among them. After a brief respite from the twisted and the unnatural the clouds once more begin to gather. Along the Long Road, whole hosts of wild beasts and monsters have been accosting travelers seemingly at random and in the grand metropolis of Waterdeep a sudden rise in crime seems to coincide with strange events passing unnoticed beneath the surface. Amidst all this, in spring of 1493 DR, a party of adventurers delves into a mystery of enchanted gemstones being utilized to nefarious ends by unknown perpetrators all the while navigating the labyrinthine twists of city faction politics.
As implied by the post title, this is an ongoing campaign (we are 12 sessions in at the time of this post). Due to some irl commitments weve recently dropped a player and are looking to replace them.
As the title suggests, this is a roleplay focused mystery/lore driven campaign. Expect an overreaching plot with ample secrets to uncover, conspiracies to unravel and eldritch truths to unearth. The first word of the password is "Doth". On the same level of importance or more important even be that the players preference, there is a variety of subplots to engage with, from small and goofy and random to ones rivaling the main story arc in complexity and variance. Among these, individual character story arcs play a leading role, at times seamlessly intertwined with the current focus of the party, at times separate and independent.
As was already mentioned and is further described below, this is a roleplay focused campaign and a roleplay heavy game. This means that roleplay exists as a unifying concept for all other aspects of the game including exploration, combat, and puzzles. That said DnD is only DnD with all three of its main pillars intact and this campaign is no exception in that regard. I very much enjoy the mechanical side of the game as well besides roleplay and so things like multiphase boss fights and custom magic items are definitely on the table.

🧙‍♂️The DM🧙‍♂️

Hello there, Jay here, 25 yo law student from Central Europe currently working on finishing his master’s degree, trying to stay afloat in the current lease market. I study and work in a law firm by day and DM or play DnD by night (more like evening but night sounded cooler). I have been a big fan of TTRPGs since my early teens and of online DnD for the past five years. I’ve DMed multiple campaigns, finished CoS not least among them and I currently play in a long-term campaign. Before you ask, yes, my schedule is strained but not to the point I am unable to engage with my hobbies.
I would describe my DMing style as driven, realistic, and involved but also very conscious about player agency and collaborative storytelling as core values that make TTRPGs so popular and unique. I spend a lot of time ensuring the worlds I create and the stories I want to tell feel alive. From hand-picked music, to fully voiced NPCs and scenic descriptions designed to breathe life into the campaign setting I daresay my games rival in quality those of the professional DMs that charge for each session.
There is a drawback to this all however. Second word of the password is "thy". I expect a lot from my players as well. Writing a story in DnD is not a one person job. It takes a collective effort of the entire group to create something truly unique, something that one can be proud while looking forward to each session. Unwinding and letting off steam means something else for everyone. For me it means losing myself in the creative process of roleplaying an NPC or describing a scene, watching my players masterfully portray their own characters or having the party derail my plans in an awesome unforeseen and unexpectedly enriching way. If you find yourself in any of what I just described than this may be a game for you. If you don’t, that’s fine. This is definitely not a game for everyone.

🏰The setting🏰

Forgotten Realms is a default setting of Dungeons and Dragons but it is anything but boring and mundane. With now decades worth of lore behind it, it offers an unparalleled opportunity for anyone wanting to build on solid foundations to bring their ideas to life. While it has garnered a lot of attention lately with the release of a certain videogame (more people now know Astarion than a good amount of Hollywood celebrities I’d say) it has had its loyal following even before then, being constantly expanded and living its own life in a host of both online and home games. It’s been a natural choice of mine for a while now and not once have I had any regrets. The third word of the password is "mirror". I feel with how great of a variety of content the Forgotten Realms offer everybody is able to pick something that suits their creative vision. In summary the Forgotten Realms almost feel like a real place with how much worldbuilding has been done with them and offer a diversity of content few other TTRPG settings can boast.
When it comes to setting of the campaign in the world of Faerun I have once again made a somewhat traditional pick and decided to place the onset of the game onto the Sword Coast, more precisely into the city of Waterdeep. If one of the key upsides of Forgotten Realms is diversity of content, Waterdeep is one of the best representations of this. Being the largest settlement on the known Faerun, Waterdeep offers nigh limitless options in terms of main story arc genre, character creation and character backstory implementation. It has everything every large TTRPG settlement ought to have (fickle upper class, enigmatic factions, quaint taverns and extravagant nightclubs, always in bad mood city watch, a castle and a harbor) as well as few pretty original ideas such as colossal definitely not alive statues, a city council where even its members don’t know each other’s identity and a massive dungeon right underneath the city where you can literally fall right from a tavern taproom.
In case you are wondering, while this campagn takes place primarily in the city of Waterdeep itself, there is nothing stopping the players from exploring past the city if they so choose. The final word of the password is "crack?". Different parts of the main plot and various subplots can and will encourage the party to explore Waterdeep environs and sometimes even further.

📃The requirements📃

No exceptions here. Unless otherwise stated, the requirements must be met at the time of application.

• to apply you need to be 20+ yo
• you need a functioning webcam (at the time of application) and a stable internet connection - we will be using both video and voice on discord and as a general rule Wifi doesn’t handle long video calls well (believe me when I say I speak from experience) so cable or other similar form of stable connection is strongly encouraged
• you need a Discord account and you will need a Forge account - Forge is a hosting service for Foundry, don’t worry, you won’t need to input any personal info (besides maybe an email) to register and I will be footing the bill
• you need a PC that can and will run Foundry Virtual Tabletop - check the minimum requirements on the Foundry website, a fair warning, Foundry won’t run on tablets and phones (not that you should consider those in the first place)
• you need at least an elementary knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition - when it comes to the awareness of the rules, I won’t be too harsh, but definitely don’t apply if the first time you’ve seen the PHB was a week ago
• you need TTRPG/roleplay experience and/or a very strong roleplay inclination - this is a heavy roleplay game where most if not all ingame talk will be done in character and where you will be expected to voice your character in a way that is distinct from your standard voice
• you will need to be very punctual when it comes to session attendance - I expect my players to attend most if not all sessions, online or not, this campaign is a designed as a longterm commitment and by applying you are acknowledging this, having other hobbies and time-consuming real-life obligations is understandable (I got those too) but those 4-5 hours you will be expected to set aside for the session

🙋‍♂️How to sign up🙋‍♀️

Youve made it all the way to the end of this long post. Congratulations. Or maybe you’ve skipped all the way to the end. In that case I strongly recommended you go back. If not to learn what you are applying for than to make sure you haven’t missed something very important. Now if you are confident that you have what it takes and that this is a game that you could have a lot of fun with, please fill the below attached google questionnaire (if for any strange reason the link doesn’t end up working, please let me know in the comments under this post) and if fortune favors you, I shall get back to you promptly. Best of luck to you and I hope to speak to you soon!
https://forms.gle/5kc4RbwavJPfT8PD9
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PS: As a part of the questionnaire, you will be asked to submit a short piece of your narrative writing in a form of a google doc link (not a custom piece of writing, any relevant past one you have will do). Maybe best have that ready beforehand? On that note, dont apply for the game with a detailed backstory of a character you want to play that you arent willing to adapt to the conditions of the setting/campaign.
PSS: Not to discourage you but if you do make it through the questionnaire and into the second group of applicants you will be asked to do a discord interview with your webcam turned on. I am asking you to go through a lot for a game you might not even end up liking I know, but if you do end up liking it, all this effort will be well worth it as I am sure my other players would agree.

"The only interview I saw of him was a complete BS interview, which was over the phone!" Jimmy continues, after following the Kremlin line by implying the recent assassination attempt on the Slovak PM happened because of his position on the war in Ukraine (and covid!).
It's unclear what Jimmy means when saying he doesn't know "what happened with the attacker" (or why he thought the interview could be carried out in any other way than over a phone since he has been jailed since the attack) as the incident was caught on camera, with the perpetrator confessing and sharing his plan/motive, but here's a brief summary for Jimmy and his followers:
The attacker David DePape was a leftist and member of the Green Party, but after Gamergate, he shifted to right-wing politics and started to spread far-right conspiracy theories about Pizzagate, the Holocaust, covid vaccines, election fraud, Hunter Biden, the war in Ukraine, etc.. According to DePape himself, he was radicalized online after spending hours everyday playing video games and listening to right-wing voices like James Lindsay, Glenn Beck, Tim Pool and Jimmy Dore.
On October 28, 2022, he broke into the house of Nancy Pelosi to kidnap and interrogate her on camera, but she wasn't at home, so he attacked her husband instead and fractured his scull with a hammer (caught on police bodycam).
On May 17, 2024, DePape was sentenced to 30 years in prison. He's also facing state charges related to the attack.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

-2-4 player activity
-At a slayer master set a group. Everyone must be within 5 slayer levels and the activity chooses a task randomly from the pool of tasks that are available to all players. This opens an interface (think like the wilderness flash event progress tab) that says the name of the task, the players names and remaining kills, and a ready button at the bottom similar to the grouping system now. This gives everyone the ability to bank and ready up.
-Once everyone is ready, the players are teleported to an instance shard room/arena (think like POSD or an actual small arena with like scenery stuff to contend with). The "ready" button would turn into "abandon". No enemies are visible on spawn in, there's a brief window (maybe 10 seconds) to set up, and then enemies will begin spawning, and a timer will begin to count up. Players remaining kill requirement will be shown next to them on the interface. You cannot use a cannon, and the enemies are always aggressive so there is no need for aggro pots. You will not receive xp or drops for killing these enemies during the assignment (more on that below).
-As the timer counts up, every 3 minutes? Four minutes? The monsters will receive a buff, or the players will receive a debuff, similar to shattered worlds, making the task more difficult the longer it takes. The goal is to finish your task first, using your familiarity with monster mechanics, your rotation, and your ability to improvise to come out on top. When the first place player finishes, the other two continue until a second place winner is also determined.
-The reason no xp or drops are given is two-fold. One, I want to avoid boosting as much as possible. I don't want people setting these up just to get access to always aggressive enemies (aggression pots would crash) without having to potentially compete for spots. I also think the randomness of the buff/debuff system will discourage people trying to use it for that reason.
-The second reason is because of the reward system. The first place winner would receive a big chunk of slayer and combat xp, 125% of the xp they would have gotten for doing the task. They will also get rolls for unique drops for each monster they killed, at a slightly buffed rate (think like most wanted cards from rush of blood). Second place would receive 100% of the xp and non buffed drop rates. The third place finisher would receive 75% of the xp they would have gained from the normal task, and no rolls for uniques. Alongside the xp and potential drops, the co-op slayer system (which I love but is terribly dated) would be retired, the pets would be converted from items to unlocks, and would be unlocked at various points thresholds. You get 2 points for first, 1 for second, none for 3rd, to keep it simple. The strykewyrm pets are my personal faves and I could def see unlocking progressively higher level skins for them as you do the activity. I feel the rates of xp and rewards would incentivize doing the activity over regular slayer and the buffed drop rate would be something to chase to help ultimate slayer hunters.
-My goal here was to come up with something alternative to the dated and mostly dead co-op slayer mode. I feel the randomness of the mechanics would help replayability, make it more challenging and more engaging than regular slayer, and still give slayer a multiplayer option like co-op was originally supposed to do. I'm open to any suggestions! Let me know what you think.