Having been a lifelong bethesda fan, I know saying things like "The mods will fix it" is not a good pitch, so what I mean by the title is that while the actual content of the mod is at beast alright, and at worst lackluster, I want to try and make the point that in a year once people have really settled in and some big mods come out to support it, Anomaly will be looked more favorably on just for what it enables.

New Research Methods

This is something I'm very interested to see people playing with. Entirely new ways of gaining research techs and getting access to new things with something besides a genie standing behind a table for 30 years. Just being able to add new and interesting ways to advance a colony without having a "research" focus is interesting.
I can imagine a mod taking advantage of the framework to enable playstyles based around entirely different ideas. Imagine if we got an expansion of Hospitality where you leveled up and gained more access to new interaction features by recieving good will from your visitors. Not just new furniture, but new types of quests or people being able to join you super easily because of your good will. It might even be possible to leverage your good will to stop raiders from attacking because they don't want to put a target on their back by attacking the best hotel on the rim.
Another idea might be an expansion on the woefully undercooked caravanning system, where you slowly gain access to the ability to set up camps, create packable storages, move faster on the map, and gain trade bonuses all through "research" based on actually travelling
Lastly, if you are familiar with the Vanilla Expanded teams latest vehicle mod, you'll know that you can only access some researches by finding the vehicles in the world first before building them yourself. With a more indepth system it could be that you'd have to actually prod and discover cars more minutely to get better performance, or new upgrades like I know they're planning.
All of this to say, I think that enabling new gameplay vectors that are just as effective as having a dedicated researcher is very interesting. Like, imagine the kind of mental perspective one might have if they genuinely, with no sense of irony or roleplaying at all, favored their 20 social Highmate Concierge for building the colony around as we currently do for kill boxes or research rooms currently.
Also, I know that to a certain extent we had the ability to do some of these things already, but the idea being planted so firmly means that everyone has the idea now, rather then just the few who think to go that far.

Rituals with actual effects

Ideology walked on this point so that anomaly could run, and I think with some integration with base game mechanics and concepts, its a really interesting idea. Currently we just have some really messed up cultish stuff, but imagine if rituals were more integrated into stuff like psycasts or sanguophages, or hell, dryads.
Off the top of my head, some of the stuff at the highest tiers of Vanilla Expanded's Psycast trees might fit better as rituals with high cost then passive abilities, but at the same time I see no reason why they couldn't expand on what they already have for even more powerful end games.
Another idea I had was some kind of method for someone to potentially be turned into an awakened Android from VRE Androids, and it might even be a cool idea for a transhumanist colony.
Lastly, I think that for a tribal colony, some kind of expansion on rituals could be immense, like imagine if you could do something along the lines of "praying to a god" to summon a great storm that kills raiders, or imbues one of the random colonists with immortality, or causes the crops to grow faster for a while.
At that point you'd be doing rituals near constantly and there'd be a major focus on making sure they go through quickly, you might even develop a inner circle of super good ritualists that can make the impossible a reality through sheer dedication alone.

Anomalies

One thing rimworld was missing for a while was subversive forces that weren't just more bodies flying at your uranium slugs. While they can be annoying in some cases, more specific anomalies that target specific features of a colony might enable more interesting playstyles.
One might be a virus invading your network, with no alert your mechanoids might start losing their batteries really quickly, or exploding, or even randomly attacking a colonist for a moment. Maybe bionics start failing and dropping colonists due to the pain. To stop it, you'd need to find whatever the "Patient 0" of the virus was and destoy it, and depending on what that is it could be as small as a hauler, or as dangereous as your terror cyborg Boris The Destroyer with 20 in shooting and a mechsuit..
Another cool idea could be a royal imposter, claiming they are visiting on routine inspection, only to have the real royal appear latter and start a big fight over it. You might have to decide which is real by watching them, and if you get it wrong, you're gonna have issues.
The general idea here in my opinion is to make people actually think about their colonies beyond the snowballing they can do with them. Not everything needs to be a proper Anomaly anomaly if you catch my drift. But something more then a casual event, more subversive and not telling you the answer to the question before you suffer its effects.
While I enjoy Anomaly for what it is, I think that the greatest strength the DLC/update brought is the platform it provided for new ideas rather then just its content. With some TLC and a year of updates I do genuinely think that the community is gonna snowball massively with it in ways we never expected before.

The worst kinds of monsters are the ones that you don’t recognize at first. For some folks, monsters are closer than they may think - shrouded in the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to strike. For a lucky few, they are protected from monsters by their loved ones, and allowed to grow and succeed.
Such was the case with Diana and Adam, a couple from Buckhannon, West Virginia. They weren’t exactly the spitting image of love - they argued sometimes, worked opposite shifts, and didn’t go out on dates that often. But, they were married, and that’s a lot farther than most couples make it. Diana was the social butterfly of the pair - dozens of friends, good relationships with people all around town, and a reputation for always carrying a sincere smile on her face and a helping hand for anyone who needed it.
At first glance, you would think that she was the one who grew up there, not Adam, but that wasn’t the case. After all, they were living in Adam’s childhood home, gifted to them by his parents as a wedding gift (and excuse to move to Florida). Adam was somewhat of a recluse - he had fine social skills, but worked the graveyard shift and never left the house much other than that. People would sometimes shoot the two glances when they were rarely sighted together - the old saying “opposites attract” might be true after all.
While they were indeed opposites, and they didn’t show it often, they did love each other, and protected each other from the monsters of the world. Not that there were many to defend from in their sleepy little town - there hadn’t been anything more than petty crime since the early 1960s.
They had been living in their home for around three years, and for Diana, it was just starting to feel like a home. When they first moved in, the place had a somber atmosphere. There was no light from street lamps peeking in through the blinds, eager to dance on her velvety skin on dark nights. There were no honks of cars outside, or faint music from a party in the distance. The environment was entirely different from the city she was raised in - and it took her a while to not hate it. After making friends with people around Buckhannon, though, her relationship with the place began to heal - she wasn’t suddenly head over heels for it, but she understood it as a staging area for the true meaning of home - the people she surrounded herself with.
Adam was accustomed to the place immediately, having lived there for years, and didn’t exactly enjoy the constant slew of company that Diana had parading through their halls. After all, he was dead tired, come sunup, and just wanted peace and quiet when he got home. He would often disregard visitors in his living room, offering a simple nod and slight smile as he climbed the old creaky stairs to go to bed. This didn’t exactly paint him nor the couple well - why was Diana married to this antisocial oddity who didn’t even seem to want people in his house at all?
While their lifestyles didn’t exactly line up, they still tried to take each other’s needs into consideration. Diana would usually go over to others’ houses if she wasn’t working and wanted to spend time with friends. If she did have company over, she tried to keep the volume to a minimum, which isn’t exactly difficult with simple conversation and coffee. Conversely, Adam would carefully traverse the house at night to ready himself for work (as much as it allowed for, with its aged floorboards). He loved her enough to let her sleep, and she loved him enough to do the same.
It was on a rare night where Adam didn’t have work that the couple got to go to bed together. The crisp autumn night let them leave the windows open to be awoken by the sounds of the birds outside. They shared a rare kiss, and rolled onto opposite sides of the bed to hopefully get a full night of sleep - they didn’t have anything to do tomorrow, after all.
Diana’s eyelids shuttered open to a mostly dark room, only pierced by a rare spot of light shining through the open window. Weird, she thought - rarely did the moonlight penetrate the treeline, although it may have been easier now, with the browned leaves crumpling off of the maple trees. Despite this oddity, everything else appeared normal - it was still dead silent, save for the distant crickets chirping in the woods. What had awoken her?
She tried to sit up, if nothing else to retrieve a glass of water. However, she could not. Her eyes widened as her heart began to race - she didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t like it. The only part of her that could move were her emerald eyes, darting across the room and looking for anything that might be causing this, or anything she could use to snap herself out of it.
And then, it stepped into the light. Upon seeing it, she wanted to scream, loud enough to reduce every window in the house to sand. But she could not - her lungs seemed to be one of the only organs that worked, as she kept breathing, despite the fact that she didn’t want to risk making noise. Her heart also worked, evidently - it was beating so fast that she thought it might give out.
Standing in front of her was a man - or what looked like one. It was around seven feet tall, and had mostly human features, apart from a few things that were strictly impossible for any living person to have. Its right arm was completely gone. The right half of its face was that of an expressionless young man - the right, simply a rim of burnt flesh and muscle surrounding a skull. Its feet were missing their skin completely, although they were intact enough for it to stand.
This was it, she thought. I’m going to die here, in this bed, and my husband is going to find me when he wakes up. She didn’t have a choice but to wait for the ghoul to approach her and rip her to shreds, or do who knows what else. But as the seconds turned into minutes (or at least felt like them), the being stayed still. Its expression remained neutral - no murderous glee, anger, or even sadness. It didn’t seem to want to harm her - or at least she hoped. Suddenly, the window slammed shut, and she blinked for the first time since she woke up. The figure was gone, and the window was indeed sealed, rendering the room completely silent. Her husband stirred next to her, and peered over at her as she sat there, hyperventilating, having finally regained control of her motor functions. Rather than offering comfort, though, he simply rolled back over. He had stayed up all of last night and day so they could go to bed together, and nothing was going to stop him from resting, not even his clearly distraught wife.
Even though she wanted to, she didn’t mention it over breakfast the next day. She was afraid of many things. She was scared that Adam wouldn’t believe her, and would ridicule her or take the experience as yet another jab towards his childhood home. She was afraid she was losing her mind, and didn’t want to think about it. She just had to pray that it wouldn’t happen again, and spent her day looking over her shoulder.
An accident at the factory the next evening abruptly granted Adam the night off, and they spent it watching an old romantic comedy in the living room. Diana wasn’t feeling very romantic, however - every single crack of a twig from what was probably just deer outside nearly sent her into a panic attack. Whatever that thing was, she didn’t want to see it again. She even prayed for the first time in years, simply to request that whatever foul spirit haunted her nightmares be banished. She drifted off to sleep with this as a slight comfort.
All comfort shattered immediately when she woke up in the darkness again. The being spared no time to hide in the shadows this time - Diana immediately saw it, staring out the window. It turned its head towards her, and she internally grimaced - its face was just as unsettling a sight as it was the previous night. This time, though, something about it was different - it had actual emotion on what remained of its face, even if just slightly. She saw a dull sadness, perhaps with a taste of bitterness, but she couldn’t see quite that much detail. All she knew was that whatever it was, it looked like it was hurting.
It suddenly raised its arm, and she felt a wave of cold air pass over her. She blinked, but it didn’t disappear. It stood, almost as if it was waiting for her to move towards it. To her surprise, she could - she cautiously lifted her torso up in the bed and moved the covers off of her legs, never taking her eyes off of it. Once she was out of bed, they stood and looked at each other, as if in a game of cat and mouse for who would move first. Ultimately, Diana won that competition, and the being turned and walked towards the bedroom’s door frame. It stopped mere feet from it, and turned its head back towards her, waiting for her. Everything inside of her, from her past experiences to basic survival instinct, was screaming at her not to follow it. But she somehow knew that it wasn’t going to harm her. She didn’t necessarily feel safe around it, but something compelled her to follow it.
So she did. She followed it down the stairs, and down another set into the boiler room. It led her towards a corner of the basement, and then turned around. She began looking around the room, searching for what this thing may have led her to. She tried to speak, but found herself unable to. The light coming through the window slightly shifted, and she saw a handle on the wall that matched the color of the paint surrounding it. It was a crawl space door, partially blocked by boxes and paint cans, but just barely visible. The being motioned for her to open it.
She had already made a stupid decision by following it down here, she reasoned - why should she enter a dark, dank crawlspace? This brief moment of logic and reason was quickly overridden by another voice within her head - hers still, but bearing different reasoning. “If it wanted to kill me, wouldn’t it have done so already?” she thought, and this was enough to get her to move the boxes, shift the paint cans aside, and try the door handle. It didn’t budge at first, as it was apparently sealed. After a few more violent tugs and the severing of the rubber seal surrounding the door, it violently swung open. Immediately, a foul smell permeated through the cold air, and she immediately began profusely gagging. It was a smell more horrible than anything she had ever had the misfortune of experiencing - worse than sewage, or spoiled food. It was the smell of rot.
The being was unfazed by this, and again motioned for her to go through the door, with a point from a finger that was barely attached to its decaying hand. Despite the fact that she had moments before been rolling on the ground, trying not to vomit, she again felt compelled to listen to the figure. She made her way through the tight tunnel, scraping her knees against the oddly brown-stained concrete, until she found herself in a room big enough that she could stand up. She fumbled around for a light switch, and didn’t find one. Regardless, the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flicked on, and when the room lit up, she couldn’t hold back the sickness anymore. She vomited all over the floor before collapsing against the wall, sobbing. She was still unable to speak or scream - despite her best efforts.
Inside the room were no less than twenty corpses, all stacked in a heap in the corner. Some were almost skeletal, while some appeared fresh. Lining the walls were dozens of instruments of torture, some foreign, some disturbingly familiar. She could not believe what she was seeing - a cell of death hiding beneath her home for who knows how long. The light flickered, and the being appeared in the center of the room. In the light, she could see more of its hideous features - a slit throat, missing fingers, missing teeth from the protruding skull. It calmly walked towards her as she sobbed, preparing to join the pile. But it did not touch her. It stood over her as she opened her eyes again, and extended its decomposing hand to her.
She was baffled, to say the least. Why did this thing bring her down here? Was it the one responsible for this? If not, then who did this? Questions raced through her overwhelmed mind as she raised her head to look at it once again. As they looked at each other, she suddenly understood, and all of the questions were answered. She took its hand, and rose to her feet. It looked at her for a few more seconds, and the light flickered again. It was gone.
The next morning, Diana made breakfast in the kitchen, shaking with anticipation for when her husband would awaken. She did not get an ounce of sleep after what had happened - she spent the night cleaning her vomit from the floor and sealing the door with superglue. She was so lost in thought, thinking about what had happened, that when a hand was placed on her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Adam spun her around and pinned her against the stove. He firmly asked what she was doing in the basement last night.
How did he know? Diana wasn’t sure, but she quickly lied about going downstairs to change the temperature on the thermostat. His grip on her shoulders eased up a bit, and she exhaled in relief - before he raised his voice. She looked at him, shocked, as he yelled at her to never go down there without him again. He turned and left the kitchen and the house, slamming the front door as he left.
The next few weeks were uneasy. Diana walked on eggshells around Adam, who refused to even look at her. She didn’t know if he had anything to do with what she found, but she did not want to believe it. Even so, his family had owned the house since it was built - who else could it have been? She tried not to think about it, and didn’t even see friends anymore, in fear that she would accidentally reveal her secret. Even on nights where he was off work, they did not sleep together - she took the spare bedroom and locked the door. She didn’t get good sleep - but she slept through the night.
One night, she woke up in the pitch black once again. The being needed no introduction, standing by her bedside and waiting for her to awaken. It began walking towards the door again, and she followed without hesitation this time - whatever it had to show her, she was ready to see it. She found herself in the basement once again, as it simply stood there and looked at her. She couldn’t say anything to it, which was fine - she didn’t have anything to say.
Suddenly, the door to the basement flew open, the lights flicked on, and Adam flew down the stairs, angrier than she had ever seen him. As she tried to back up against the wall, he grabbed her arm and began screaming at her. As he yelled in her face, she had a choice to make, and she chose to push him away. He stumbled backwards to the edge of the shadows of the basement’s darkest corners, and in that instant, a rotting hand grabbed him and violently yanked him into the darkness. The lights cut out, as shrieks and squeals echoed from the corner. Just as suddenly as they started, though, they stopped. She stood there, completely emotionless, in the pitch dark.
The basement was entirely silent, as was the outside world - the crickets were quiet, there was no wind, and the radiator had stopped humming. The moonlight seeping into the room illuminated only the floor, where a pool of crimson blood slowly grew larger. Out of the shadows stepped the being, its wet, skinned feet slapping against the concrete. It did not move towards her - it just stared.
Then, out of the one eye it still had, it began to cry. It did not make noise, but teardrops rolled down its cheeks, and the sound of them falling off of its face and into the puddle of blood became the only noise in the room. At that moment, she finally understood.
The light flicked back on, and it disappeared. She looked into the corner where her husband was dragged, and found nothing. She ascended the stairs, still in her nightgown and slippers, and opened the front door, shutting it behind her as she left.

First Prev
Saturn
The first thing that I noticed about the tent was how clean it was. There was no trash, no filth, no nothing: everything was clean and well organized from the outside, like a military tent.
The second thing I noticed was the strange… placement of everything around it. Scrap was hoarded all around the base of the tent, but not haphazardly or without thought, but rather it almost resembled a kind of morbid bird’s nest.
“A strange home,” I noted, “who lives here.”
“There's a lot of answers to that question, and I doubt that any of them will satisfy you,” The Lord Commander replied, “All I can really say for certain is that the cretin inside can help you beat the Cabal.”
“A cretin?” I asked, a bit confused, “what do you mean by cretin? Are you implying that this person has a few screws loose?”
“In a manner of speaking, although if you want to get technical his kind doesn't exactly come with many screws to begin with.”
I scowled at the Lord Commander's words, but stepped forward to peer into the flap. I could hear many things: low rumblings, the crackling sounds of a primitive fire, the soft clanking of metal on metal, and the searing of meat, all coalescing into almost what one would imagine a wagon train’s camp kitchen would be like. But before I could even make it three feet forward, a massive, clawed hand reached out and pulled the flap back just a tiny bit, revealing a massive eye the size of a softball, with vertical reptilian slits and speckled, amber-colored sclera.
“Go away,” the thing rumbled, a long, thin tongue stretching out as if to sniff the air, “Grug is tired, and Grug doesn't recognize you.”
The Lord Commander snorted, but didn't speak any more. “Come out, Grug, we need to speak.”
“No, No, No,” Grug insisted in an almost childish manner, “Moons leave soon, black night comes then. Grug is scared of the dark. Tent protects Grug and Tree-Friend from dark things.”
I suppressed laughter. “He's scared of the Dark! How do you expect him to help if he's scared of the dark?”
“Grug is a bit… special,” a voice behind the three of us spoke. I turned around to see an Older Sho-dai woman wearing fine robes dyed mahogany and amber-rimmed spectacles that made her look both regal and distinguished. She was holding something in her aged paws, a clay pot of something, but I couldn't quite tell, “But he has a big heart and a good soul, common for a child.”
“With all due respect ma'am, how is he a child?” I asked, “the tent is huge, and one hand was bigger than a manhole cover; there is no child that large.” I knew that wasn't exactly true, but very few creatures ever grew to that size, much less as children.
“His kind are rare around these parts, nearly hunted into extinction long ago,” the Sho-dai whispered quietly, as if to shield her words from Grug, “I've read all about them: the library I manage holds a wealth of knowledge that is sadly nowhere near as appreciated as it once was. Needless to say, he was retrieved as an egg by a scrapper haul nearly a decade ago, and I chose to advocate for its life. Our town had seen enough cruelty and death, so I decided I'd foster some kindness and life.” She approached the tent and placed the pot just outside of the tent flap. It was filled with different dried fruits and dumplings, jerky, and other miscellaneous food and supplies.
“You waste our food on this outsider, why?” Asked the Lord Commander. Thiva stiffened, and I assumed the sweet old librarian would as well, but she simply gave him a disappointed look.
“He is an innocent refugee, with no home or hope. I care for him because unlike many of my kinsmen I actually have a heart,” She spoke back, her voice soft and sweet but her tone implying an unmatched malice, “We are so obsessed with ourselves that we will soon lose our individuality too. So let this one live in peace for now.”
“We have nothing to give, his age and species are irrelevant,” the Lord Commander Growled, “Even if another Sho-dai came from another city expecting charity we'd still turn them away. This one must pull their weight.”
The Librarian merely sighed and shook her head. “It's always about violence and greed with you people, nothing else.”
“This is about neither! This is about saving this city,” The Lord Commander shouted, “and if Grug can help then he's obligated to! He lives here, in the same streets that the rest of these suffering Sho-dai do! He cannot turn down this command.”
Suddenly, the same clawed hand reached out again, and I noticed that it didn't have scales per say, but rather something a bit more menacing: spines. His entire outer forearm was covered in sharp spines, not long like skewers but instead short and straight like blood work needles. As his muscles flexed, so too did the spines, poking out slightly either from irritation or anxiety.
“Nobody speak to Grug but nice lady, nobody care about Grug like the nice lady does. Grug is nobody to everybody. Why does everybody know Grug now, now that Grug can help?”
The Lord Commander looked like he wanted to say something but also seemed at a loss for words. He stammered for a bit before shutting his mouth and turning around, clanking his metallic walking stick on the ground in a frustrated manner. “Fine, continue to be a burden: I will have no part in this childishness. We shall defend this city, with or without you.”
“We?” I asked, a little taken back by his words, “I am defending this city: it will be me who is fighting, not you. Don't sit here and pretend that you'll be wading through death instead of sitting back and giving commands to your soldiers from the safety of wherever you hide away during battles.”
”Do not make me the villain here!” The Lord Commander shouted back, “I am trying to protect these people! This cretin needs to know that it is selfish of him to hide away here while he lets everyone else suffer!”
“He does not see it that way,” I argued, “you have obviously treated him like a pariah, and now you expect him to find the devotion in his heart to defend this town? I would call that shameful, wouldn't you agree?”
“Do not pretend to understand anything about honor or shame!”
“Quit grumbling,” Grug growled from behind his tent, “Grug knows you don't like him, let Grug live in peace.”
I looked back at the Lord Commander, who was obviously pissed. “Let me speak to him: I'm an outsider as well, he may be able to relate to me.”
The Lord Commander shook his head in irritation, but meandered over to the streetside and leaned on his walking stick. I walked further up to the tent flap before clearing my throat, hoping to get Grug’s attention without startling or angering him.
“Grug, could I talk to you?”
“Grug doesn't want to fight, you can't make Grug fight!” He mumbled louder, his voice rising.
“You don't have to fight, Grug, and I won't make you,” I said, “I just want to come in if that's okay? Maybe we can talk.”
Grug was silent for a few moments, but eventually I heard another annoyed rumble before he opened the flap, allowing me in.
Time Skip
Grug seemed to be an incredibly meticulous creature. Inside the tent, his few items were stacked up neatly in the corner. The dirt from the ground was swept away, all his trash was thrown in a little trash bin (little was a relative term here, it was practically the size of Thiva) and the fire in the middle was adorned with a roasting spot, which he roasted a whole hog on.
Grug himself sat on a big stone block, poking the fire with a rebar rod to agitate the coals. He was a creature I recognized now as well, due to me being able to see his whole body. He was a Jí Bèi, or a thornback, and resembled a gigantic, anthropomorphic echidna. On his back, spines bristled outward, traveling down his arms and legs and covering him in layers of thorny armor like a briar bush, but it also reminded me of old pike phalanxes and how the many speartips could deflect arrows. His claws were long and razor-sharp, and yet he manipulated them dexterously as if they were fine tools.
He wasn't a cretin, that's for sure, just a creature with a more simple outlook and vocabulary. The Sho-dai worked so hard to appear distinguished that they often forgot what it meant to be average.
“What do you want with Grug?” Grug asked cautiously. “They always want from Grug, always take and never give. Only nice book lady ever cares about Grug, brings Grug food and books sometimes. Only book lady and tree-friend.” He sighed, seeming to lament everyone's disdain for him. “Grug knows you want something, someone always want something,” he added shrewdly, “Grug not stupid, Grug knows that Grug isn't welcome.”
“So you want people to like you?”
“Grug knows that's what everyone wants,” he mumbled, poking the coals again, “what Grug doesn't understand is why is everyone so mean to Grug? What did Grug do?”
“Grug, why do you speak in the third person,” I asked, “you are surprisingly articulate for your age. The woman outside, the librarian, says you're still a child.”
“Grug speaks the way he does because he wants to constantly remind everyone who he is and what his name is,” Grug spoke with a hint of determination, “they all call Grug rude things like ‘beast’ or ‘cretin’, but Grug is not an animal or stupid, Grug is Grug, And Grug deserves to be treated with decency. Grug will only accept his name.”
“That's an admirable way to resist their expectations of you,” I said, “but what's better is to make them respect you.”
“Grug does not wish to fight,” he quickly interrupted, “Grug wishes to be treated with respect.”
“But whether you like it or not, these people respect strength,” I said, “but you have a gift: you are big and strong, and clever too. You can gain their respect by helping them fight off the bad people who want to hurt them.”
Grug sat sat in silence, but I could see the gears turning in his head as he poked the coals some more before rotating the spit to ensure the whole hog cooked evenly. “Grug… Grug doesn't like to fight. Hurting people makes Grug sad, same with hurting animals. Grug thinks about who they might've been, what they could've done… Grug doesn't like to take life away.”
I felt that on a personal level. I didn't like to kill, and oftentimes I only did so out of desperation or anger, something I wasn't proud of. In a way, it made me want to convince Grug to join me more because we were somewhat like-minded. “I understand, I don't like to kill either.”
“So why do you fight? Grug doesn't understand.”
“Nobody forces you to kill but you, Grug, you always have that choice,” I admitted, “but choices oftentimes come with even more choices packaged in: how you wish to preserve life is one of the questions that immediately come to mind.” I gently sat down next to him on the stone, looking into the fire. “Sure, you can resort to nonviolence, but that means nothing changes, and when nothing changes then whatever pain that existed before you made your choice will continue to exist afterwards as well, and if you had the power to stop it then the responsibility would theoretically fall on you. Hypothetically, I mean, I'm not blaming you for anything, just speaking my mind.”
“Grug understands.”
“Okay then,” I continued, “I couldn't live knowing that I could have saved someone because I always end up thinking about the same things: who were they? Did they have a life elsewhere, or a family? Did they have dreams?” I sighed and laced my fingers together, resting my forearms over my knees as I slouched slightly. “I've always wondered, is it just as bad to do nothing when someone is hurting as it is to be the one inflicting the pain? I'd never wanted to find out, though, rather it was simply just a nagging thought in the back of my mind, the kind that dictates your entire way of life. I don't want to be the one who could've been better but chose not to.”
“Grug knows you want Grug to help, but Grug won't: the people hate Grug, they'll never appreciate Grug.”
“I understand,” I said, standing up, “I don't expect you to help, and I have no desire to force you: I just wanted to see if I could speak to you on the matter like a person instead of making demands of you. I want you to make your own choices, everyone should, you shouldn't be obligated to serve those who do not serve you back.”
Grug seemed surprised by my sentiment, as if he wasn't used to hearing that. “Thank you… Grug rarely receives kindness.”
“You're welcome,” I said back. “I've noticed…” I began before pausing to find the right words, “That there's a lot of emphasis put on obligations here, all I've heard is honorable this and duty that, but it all feels so forced. These people, this city, and those that rule it all hate each other, and those obligations feel so paper thin that I could push through them with a wet finger. But the restrictions still remain.” I was speaking my mind now, not just to Grug, but to myself: I realized that this city was doomed if I didn't step in, even if the Cabal didn't suck them dry the infighting and the disconnect between the different classes would tear it apart. “I see people use words like honor and duty to maintain control, or exercise power over others, or manipulate others, but I don't think I'd ever seen it be done out of true honesty and loyalty to those creeds.”
“Grug is… confused,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, “Grug heard a lot, didn't understand it all.”
“Sorry, I was lost in my own words for a minute there,” I apologized with a weak smile, “I'm just starting to see where the problems lie, and I think it's because everyone here has lost faith, faith in each other, in their leaders, and their city, and what they're doing now is all posturing.”
“Grug sees a lot of sadness,” Grug noted poignantly, “lots of anger, no smiles or laughter. All joy is gone, like their happiness went away.”
“But you-”
“No,” Grug insisted, “Grug knows what you want…”
“But you could give them their faith again,” I insisted, “You could be something for them to believe in, to kickstart a chain reaction and bring back what made this city in the first place,” I placed my hand on his, mine incredibly small in comparison but no less determined, “And they'll respect you, even love you, because you stood for them when few others would.”
Grug seemed to actually consider this for a moment, and he eventually responded. “I’ll help,” Grug spoke in the first person for the first time, “But I need something, a few things.”
“I can't give much, not now,” I said, concerned that all the progress I made might be lost. “I'll do what I can, though.”
“It's not much, just a test of… character. I heard the nice lady call it something like that before,” Grug spoke, although I didn't exactly know what he meant by that, “Tree-Friend understands people, sees through what they want him to see. In some ways, Tree-Friend can see more than us.”
I looked up at the black tree, the leaves within the tent curled downward to absorb the heat of the fire. It was then that I realized the tree was a thermo-synthesizer, the kind that was designed to absorb the heat of thermal vents and regulate planetary temperatures. In the fire and the heat of the foundries, it flourished despite the cruel, lifeless soil, and it must've remained here without being cut down for a reason…
Then I noticed it: subtle movement higher up. Grug let out what probably sounded like a shrill whistle to him, but to me it sounded like a locomotive’s air horn. The movement increased, with ear-piercing clicks like those of a bat. Something was moving along the higher branches, but it melded so well with the tree that it was near impossible to distinguish it, much less identify what it was.
“And who exactly is this… tree friend?” I asked cautiously.
“He is Tree-friend.” Grug said bluntly, as if that would explain everything.
“But what is Tree-friend?” I asked, “is he… like us?”
“Tree-friend isn't like anybody, but tree-friend is good: that I know.”
Suddenly, I saw something more definite: two, onyx banded eyes peering down at me, along with a lean, muscular form clinging to the trunk of the tree less than ten feet above me. It had claws longer than unsharpened pencils, but the claws themselves were anything but dull, and they curved wickedly into barbed nightmares at the end. Its body was coated in blackish-brown scales almost resembling leaves, each the color of jaspilite, with tiger-esw stripes of pitch black running down its back lengthwise. Suddenly its coloring shifted, taking on a brighter, amberish hue set by the fire, as if it had realized I had spotted it and now it had no reason to hide.
But most concerning was its long, viney tail that sprouted barbed blades at the end, along with a powerful piercing proboscis at the end. I didn't want to know what that was used for.
I was starting to paint a more complete picture of Tree-friend’s true nature: its physiology was familiar, but it wasn't something I was used to seeing… not that I had ever seen anything like it before. Whenever I tried to recollect memories about how the past and the old authority worked, it was as if I was one man in two bodies all at once, one perspective looking forward and the other back. But that second perspective felt so foreign despite me being unable to deny that it was something I knew deep down in my core had been something I had experienced.
Tree-friend must have been some kind of guard creature, especially if it resided in this tree for most of its life. The proboscis, maybe a way to sap nutrients from the tree, or initiate a sort of mutualism with it. Its claws didn't dig into the bark, not did it snap branches or travel haphazardly along its trunk: the plant must have been important, maybe even sacred, to it. The chameleonic skin? Definitely a way to stage ambushes on prey or intruders. And it's mouth bristling with razor-sharp teeth… there was no question what those were for. It would also make sense for Tree-Friend to be able to discern intention and have an advance intuition for anything that could be perceived as a threat: the goal for most guards wasn't to attack anything and everything on sight, but rather to terminate any individual or unit that could partake in corporate espionage. It's master and any of its guests would need to be at least ignored and at most protected when threatened.
“Tree-friend scares people away, he doesn't like strangers, and he knows when people want to do bad things,” Grug explained, “Tree-Friend is smarter than Grug, even if he doesn't speak: Tree-friend knows when bad things will happen.”
Tree-friend blinked at me, flexing its claws cautiously as it seemed to stare into my soul. At first, I thought it was preparing to pounce, but the little quadruped didn't seem coiled up to leap just yet. I resisted the urge to lift up the fauchard and defend myself, knowing that it would attack at the first sign of animosity.
Instead, I decided to do the unthinkable. I reached out with my hand, my arm extended and my palm open. I was exposed and at the mercy of Tree-friend, but I needed to have faith that neither Grug nor Tree friend meant any harm. They were simply different, and they saw the world differently than I did, not unlike how I saw the world differently than the Sho-dai did.
Tree-friend seemed puzzled at first, but he eventually held out his clawed hand and placed it into mine gently. Then he looked at me with an almost innocent curiosity, ruffling and loosening its leaf-like scales.
“Tree-friend likes you,” Grug observed, “You are the first, too: he has attacked everyone else.”
“You don't say,” I mumbled, “what is he, really? Where did you find this thing?”
“Tree-friend has always been part of the tree: I found him when I had grown big enough to live indoors anymore. I had moved out here between the furnaces because the cold makes me sick, and I had found him in an opaque, tiny seed attached to the tree. I have taken care of him ever ever since.”
Suddenly, Tree-friend’s eyes narrowed, and it focused on something scurrying along the ground. In a flash, it leapt off the tree and onto the ground, quickly gobbling up a small rodent and swallowing it whole, the still-squirming creature pushing against his flexible belly to no avail until it drowned. “Well, that was wonderful to watch,” I said sarcastically, “is that it's diet?”
“Yes,” Grug said, “He keeps the tent clean. I also feed him meat from time to time, although he detests any fruits or vegetables.” Grug pulled off a hunk of meat from the hog roasting over the fire and tossed it to Tree-friend, who snapped it up with incredible dexterity. It didn't even seem to chew either, merely swallow prey whole, so I didn't want to know what the teeth were for.
“But we need to go,” Grug said, “they'll come soon, and if we don't hurry bad things will happen. I made a promise to you, and I will keep it: I will help you fight the Cabal.”
Time Skip
As we left the tent, the world was approaching absolutely twilight. The only thing that illuminated the city were the dim artificial streetlights along the paved roadways, as well as larger lights hefted higher up that could bathe whole neighborhoods in light with ease. Most notably, near the center of the city, there was a massive tower that I hadn't really noticed before, but it easily dwarfed the rest of the buildings. On top, a lighthouse spun dutifully, sending out a beacon of hope to the rest of the boneyard and pointing the way to safety for those unfortunate few caught outside without reliable shelter.
Tree-friend rode on Grug’s shoulders lazily, its little head next to Grug's own and its arms draped around his neck loosely. It seemed very protective of Grug, which seemed to lend credence to it being some kind of guard creature. It hissed at any Sho-dai who got too close, and they made a wide berth around Grug to ensure nobody got hurt.
The Lord-Commander stood at a makeshift barricade set up at the large, bronze gates of the town, watching the entrance intently. He had gathered an entire unit of the guard, all fit in heavy metal armor and wielding either a multitude of different guns, mostly simplistic submachine guns or semi-automatic rifles, or shields and blunt weapons, the latter often designed to resemble different tools that could serve as bludgeons, like wrenches and pipe threaders, but also much more elegant and fitted with spikes or blades to pierce armor.
At the gates, a small army of armored figures stood, many of them being Sho-dai themselves, but others being members of species I didn't quite recognize yet, but they all seemed like cannon fodder compared to a select few. The first big threat I spotted was a huge primate, at least as tall as a semi-truck, with the head of a baboon and a muscular, furry body fitted with all manner of advanced cybernetics, which were far more advanced than anything I could imagine these Sho-dai ever creating. One of its arms had been replaced with a minimalist, cybernetic version that held a massive Kanabo as a weapon, the studded metal club reinforced with metal down it's length. It's breath fogged up in the cold air more and more as the last moon set, finally shrouding the world in darkness.
There were two others that stood out, one being a strange, beetle-like creature reminiscent of a bipedal scarab. His carapace was a greenish-blue and reflected the artificial light of the street lamps brilliantly, and I could tell that he was a male by his brilliantly plumed antennae, but that's where his admirable qualities ended. His carapace was fitted with extra bionic inserts like an extra layer of armor, and on his head was a large horn like that found on a rhinoceros beetle. It held a large heavy sword that resembled a Nodachi, and seemed utterly unfazed by the small army of Sho-dai the Lord-Commander had set up. But when his segmented eyes focused on me, his antennae flicked ever so slightly, and his mandibles clicked together with interest.
The last one was interesting. This one was a bit like a peafowl, with vibrant blue, green, and gray feathers. Definitely a female, she wore long robes that hid the rest of her body, and stood up straight with her wings folded, her eyes staring directly into my soul. She wasn't burly or bulky like her comrades, but I could tell she didn't need to be: she could probably kill everyone here save for me with little effort.
“We have come,” shouted the Peafowl, who approached first. The rest of the group, including the large ape, remained, “We are here to take what is ours, as is written.” She eyes the soldiers and the Lord-Commander with an almost annoyed look. “And yet I do not see our rightful bounty piled before us. Answer me, peasant, or I will slit your throat!” She pointed at the Lord-Commander, her beady little eyes narrowing, “Where is our tribute?”
“You shall have none today, scum,” he said, lifting up his gun, “I'll gladly grant you a painful death, however.”
The Lord-Commander emptied the clip of his submachine gun at the Peafowl, but she simply raised her wing and deflected the bullets with her feathers, the lead bouncing off as if each shot was a spitwad. Then, as the Lord-Commander attempted to reload, she unleashed something from underneath her wing, a kusarigama, and it slashed through his neck, sending blood over his fellow soldiers faster than any of them could react. Then she flicked her thin wrist back, and the chained blade flew back towards her, taking the Lord-Commander’s head with it. She deftly gripped the hair, his face still contorted into a mask of shock as she tossed it to the ground with a scoff before cleaning off her weapon with another flick and concealing it back under her robes. “A pathetic display," she hissed before returning to her once regal voice, "Death has been marked. Burn this pitiful city to the ground, kill two thirds and enslave the rest: we shall take what is ours and make an example out of you cretins.”

Hi. I am just an avid hiker and hunter. I am in AZ.
I was out in Tonto NF. Reservation side.
Hiking there or anywhere, miles from any road, I see piles of wood cut by saw and piled up.
Sometimes near an old forest service road but also commonly no where near a road and on steep grades.
Someone was out there with a saw and cut these trees and piled them up (and sometimes just left them as they were but with cuts).
I suspect there is a reason.
Again everything from 4” logs to 2’ diameter. The latter piled above 6’. It took machinery to pile these up. Usually in piles around the forest. Who knows how long they have been there, but Tonto is huge.
Any ideas why? I don’t suspect foul play or aliens. Just hiking and wondering. Like WTH? :).
This is dense forest along the south side of the Mongollon rim.

Master Shake

My name is…
Shake zula, the mic rula, the old schoola, you want a trip, I’ll bring it to ya!

Information

Master Shake is a member and the self-proclaimed leader of the Aqua Teen Hunger Force. He is incredibly selfish, greedy, narcissistic, and stupid. He will always bring some kind of misfortune either to himself or those around him to get what he wants.
Source Key

• ^Movie = Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie for Theaters
  
• ^Game = Aqua Teen Hunger Force Zombie Ninja Pro-Am
  
• ^Opening = For the various intros and outros of the main show.
  
• ^Commercials = For the one feat done in a Slim Jim commercial.
  
• ^Plantasm = Aqua Teen Forever: Plantasm
  
• Anything else is referring to the title of an episode in the main series.
  

Strength

• Kicks down a door. ^Opening
  
• Impales someone with his straw. ^Opening
  
• Knocks out Carl with two swings from a golf club. ^Game
  
• Beats Oglethorp with a golf club until he's unconscious. ^Game
  
• Holds his ground during winds that were pushing cars around. ^Game
  
• Kills giant crabs, living trees, cybernetic turkeys, and robot scorpions, ^Game
  
• Beats Carl until he starts crying. ^Game
  
• Crushes Meatwad's radio because dancing is forbidden. ^Rabbot
  
• Busts through a counter to avoid taking a meat bridge. ^Rabbot
  
• Rips off a door frame. ^{Bus of the Undead}
  
• Knocks down Oglethorpe. ^{Space Conflict from Beyond Pluto}
  
• Kicks a sofa chair really hard. ^{Revenge of the Trees}
  
• Pushes a giant vat of oil. ^{Revenge of the Trees}
  
• Pushes a bed out of a hotel room. ^Carl
  
• Kicks Carl into a fucked up room. ^Dickesode
  
• At some point in 2002, he shoved a full-grown gorilla into a microwave. ^Reedickulous
  
  • And apparently understands sign language.
• Knocks out Carl in one hit using a lamp. ^{Time Machine}
  
• Lifts up a manhole cover with one hand. ^{Fry Legs}
  
• Pries open a door to Better Buy with a wrench. ^{A PE Christmas}
  
• Flips over a pinball machine. ^Eggball
  
• Tears a door off its hinges. ^Eggball
  
• Kicks Meatwad into a door hard enough to bounce off of it. ^IAMAPOD
  
• Knocks out Time Warner with one punch. ^{Time Warner}
  
• Knocks his past self out with a punch. ^{Time Warner}
  
• While on muscle-enhancing beverages, he throws Meatwad and the treadmill he's standing on through a wall onto the neighbor's roof. ^Muscles
  
  • His muscles become sentient, sprout arms and legs, and then throws multiple people out of buildings.
  • Ripped someone in half.

Durability

General

• Hits his head on a ring of fire, gets his arms bitten off, hit by his own snowmobile, and then eaten by a snake. ^Commercial
• Crashes a car, flies out the window, and lands on his feet without any signs of damage. ^Game
• Crash lands on Earth while inside the Mooninites ship and only receives a headache. ^Game
• Hit by a car so hard he gets launched to the Moon in supposedly one second. ^Game
• Gets blown out of hell by a stream of fire and is completely unaffected. ^Game
• Jumps off a freeway and is fine. ^Game
• Hit by a truck and is fine in the next scene. ^Movie
• Constricted by plant vines. ^Plantasm
• Lifted up by electricity and slammed on the floor repeatedly. ^{Balloonenstein}
• Lifted up and hit repeatedly by a ceiling fan. ^{Balloonenstein}
  
• Fell off a cliff and survived, albeit he lost his eyes and was in a wheelchair. ^{Dumber Dolls}
  
• Hit with an axe in the head and mostly unharmed. ^{Spirit Journey Formation Anniversary}
  
• Caught in an explosion. ^{Spirit Journey Formation Anniversary.}
  
• Electrocuted then doused in blood. ^{The Shaving}
  
• Thrown out of a window by Carl. ^{The Clowning}
  
• Frylock throws a TV at him that then explodes and he's fine in the next scene. ^Robositter
  
• Ate a scorpion, died, and came back. ^{Party All The Time}
  
• Repeatedly slammed into a microwave by the horde of undead animals he microwaved. ^Reedickulous
  
• Caught in the center of an explosion that was visible from space.
  
  • The script for this episode later claims this explosion "lit up much of the universe into flames".
• Used as a pinball and survives, although he is severely injured. ^Eggball
  
• While possessed, jumps out of a window from several stories up and comes back up fine. ^Monster
  
• Only mildly annoyed when he's caught in an explosion that destroys a house. ^{Kangarilla and the Magic Tarantula}
  
• Punched in the stomach repeatedly by someone who could crush stones with their hands. ^Bookie
  
• Hit by Carl with a bat. ^Bookie
  
• Swatted away by a jerky mascot. ^{Mouth Quest}
  

Pain Tolerance and Endurance

• Loses a hand. ^Movie
  • Later tries again and loses his other hand. ^Movie
• Survives getting stung repeatedly by bees. ^Interfection
• Endures a body-altering surgery while fully awake and is fine once he gets out. ^{Super Model}
• Gets his hand melted off and a hole drilled into his head and is only mildly concerned. ^{Super Spore}
• Endured sitting in front of a video without blinking for several days and nights. ^{Super Trivia}
• Stands upright listening to the same song for hours on end while holding up a piano on his back. ^eDork
• Loses a finger and a lot of blood. ^Robositter
• Gets skinned. ^Carl
• Endures temperatures hot enough to "melt cows" and ignite cellphones. ^{Boost Mobile}
• Reaches up his ass while high and rips out his colon. ^Moonajuana
• Unbothered after he had his eyes gauged out by Meatwad. ^{Laser Lenses}
  • They get infected.
• Blows his head off with a shotgun and is alive in the next scene. ^{The Marines}
• Jumps off Carl's roof and lands on the ground. ^{She Creature}
• Gets his hands bitten off by a sea creature in Carl's pool. ^{She Creature}
• Drinks water and bursts into flames. ^{The Last One Forever and Ever}
• Survived being bitten by dozens of spiders. ^{Rabbot Redux}
• Leaves his hand on a giant burger for weeks ^{Hands on Hamburger}
• Briefly teleported to hell and set on fire. ^Juggalo
• Continues to play a mobile game after his fingers are bitten. ^{Kangarilla and the Magic Tarantula}
• Mauled by a dog for an extensive period of time. ^{Freedom Cobra}
• Was sliced into cubes by lasers and was still alive. ^Intervention
• Bitten several times by bats and comes back the next day like nothing happened. ^Vampirus
• Slashes his cheek and fingers off with a sword. ^Bookie
• Has his fingers broken. ^Bookie
• Gets his finger cut off. ^Bookie
• Shot in the hand. ^{Zucotti Manicotti}
  • Shoots himself in the same hand.
  • Potentially regenerated his first gunshot wound
• Gets his thumb pulled off. ^{Banana Planet}
• Loses his hand to piranha germs that eat his cells. ^{Piranha Germs}
• Survives a painful blood transfusion that lasts multiple days. ^{Piranha Germs}
• Had a grown man crawl into his body, then burst his way out, and was still alive and conscious. ^{Brain Fairy}
• Has dozens of bees fly down his straw and then sprayed by a high-pressure hose. ^{Sweet C}
• Flays chunks of meat off of himself while hopped up on cocaine. ^{The Greatest Story Ever Told}

Agility/Speed

• Quickly climbs up a building. ^Opening
• Can dodge lasers fired by cyborg turkeys. ^Game
• Dodges a giant falling tree. ^Plantasm
• Dug a massive trench in a short time. ^{The Broodwich}
• Changes into a robber's attire and somehow climbed up a rope in a few seconds. ^{T-Shirt of the Dead}
• Intercepts a basketball shot from Ezekial. ^Ezekial
• Climbs a tower from Earth to an alien planet in a short amount of time.^Antenna
• Does a backflip while shooting a pistol. ^{Pink Man}
• Jumps out of a hotel window several stories up, hits the ground, and returns to the room he was just in a few seconds later. ^Monster
  • He did this while possessed.

Other

• Sings a song so terrible it makes a robot kill itself. ^Movie
• Resists cold temperatures because of his physiology. ^Plantasm
• Sucks up all the water out of a pool. ^{Bus of the Undead}
• Removed the sun-dried tomatoes out of a sandwich that cannot be taken apart. ^{The Broodwich}
• Immune to the effects of the Hypno-Rims because he's too stupid to be affected. ^{Star Studded Xmas Spectular Part 2}
• Inexplicably vanishes. ^{Carl Wash}
• Grew to the size of the planet and took a bite out of Earth. ^{Laser Lenses}
• Can dislodge his hand from his body at will. ^{Hands on Hamburger}
• Seemingly managed to escape the destruction of his show and fled into a new one. ^{One Hundred}
• Shouts "Shazizzle" and is teleported. ^Wi-Tri
• 2 versions of himself occupy the same point in time. ^{Time Warner}
• Seems to be able to break out of trances whenever golf is involved. ^{Merlo Sauvignon Blanco}
• Breaks the 4th wall and calls the audience stupid for paying for cable. ^{Working Stiffs}
• Revealed to have a gem of his own and was able to fire lasers. ^{The Last One Forever and Ever (For real this time) (We fucking mean it)}

Aqua Teen won't ever be cancelled,
Aqua Teen won't be dismantled,
Aqua Teen gonna be together,
Aqua Teen gonna be forever!

The Shimmer, I. The Shimmer, II.
Sara fidgeted nervously in her white lab coat and glanced at the clock, another five minutes had passed and there was no sign of her lab partner, Ian. This wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that Ian was late to class, but what bothered Sara the most was, this was not like Ian at all. Ian was always on time to biology class, in fact, he was the professor's favorite because he was so brilliant and asked the best questions.
"Where are you Ian," Sara whispered to herself as she lit the small Bunsen burner on the lab table. She glanced around the classroom and saw to her dismay, there were no other lab partners that were missing - she was alone and if Ian didn't show, she would be only given half credit for the lab. "Fucking prick," Sara scathed under her breath, losing hope that Ian would ever show. But lo and behold, a second later, a tired looking Ian walked through the lab door, one arm lazily flailing about, trying to fit it inside the arm hole of his lab coat.
"Need some help there, slacker?" Sara said relived and half amused. Ian smiled weakly at Sara, as he successfully pulled his arm through, and said, "Sorry I'm late, again." Sara looked at the dark circles under Ian's eyes, "You look a bit rough there, Ian. Not sleeping well? We're not even in finals week yet." Ian looked away and then down at the floor, and that is when Sara noticed his shoes were covered in a dark substance, like mud, caked onto the outer rim of his soles. When Ian noticed that Sara had followed his gaze down to his shoes, he quickly shuffled off mumbling, "I'll grab the beakers."
Sara had never seen Ian act so strangely since she had met him freshman year and was a little concerned. "Was he sleepwalking around outside or something?" she wondered to herself. She decided she would offer him some help, should he need it, just as a friend. "Yeah, just as a friend," she quietly confirmed sarcastically to herself.
Ian had no idea that Sara had feelings for him and that she loved his brilliant mind and his childlike curiosity that shined through in certain moments through an otherwise serious type of personality. She had watched him doodling in his composition book during lectures, but somehow, he was always the first to finish an assignment or a test and received full marks. Sara had made it a point to finally introduce herself to Ian, casually, after sitting next to him in the lecture hall, and commented on his most recent masterpiece - a pencilwork sketch of an intricate nature scene. Ian's pages were covered in a sprawling forest, a giant tree, and numerous beehives. Now, they were lab partners.
Ian's sketches made sense to Sara, as she remembered also enjoying the warm days on the outskirts of the campus and being completely enraptured by the university's apiary that was located there. She remembered Ian seeming to take a particular interest in the giant honeybees, but that wasn't strange either, since most students expressly enjoyed witnessing the giant honeybees. Ian, however, had chosen to stay behind the rest of the class and talk with the beekeeper.
Sara decided, she would just make small talk with Ian and see if anything was bothering him, and maybe get him to talk about his interest with the giant honeybees in case he was feeling down.
After setting up and working in focused silence on their lab together for about 10 minutes, Sara decided Ian wasn't going to say much, unless she broke the ice.
"Hey Busybee, can you please hand me the 10ml pipette, please?" Ian shook his head and handed her a clean dropper, not breaking his gaze from the lab instructions he had picked up. "Thanks," she squeaked, trying to sound friendly and approachable. "So...do you have any plans for the weekend Ian…besides maybe catching up on some Z's?" she giggled, trying not to seem prying. Ian remained quiet, holding the lab instructions in his hands, but was clearly not reading them. And then suddenly, Ian spoke in a hushed tone, "Sara, do you want to see something?" His eyes still staring blankly at the lab instructions.
Sara's heart skipped a beat and she felt her face flush, "Uh, sure? Like right now?" she said glancing up at the clock. "We still have 30 minutes left of lab to go." Ian, broke his eyes away to look over at Sara, puzzled, and that is when Sara realized she had let her secret slip. "Uh, I mean…Well, what do you mean exactly?" Sara said, kicking herself. Ian held up the lab instructions and pointed to a section of the instructions to show Sara, and said, "We have to reduce the heat in step four," he said smiling weakly at her.
"Ian, I know that, *we're* just now done with step two, she said sounding slightly irritated, but more at herself for becoming hopeful. "If you had got here at the start of class we wouldn't be so pressed for time," she said flatly. Ian started to say something, but Sara interrupted him, seizing her chance to broach the subject. "If you have something going on, that's a different story, but I would appreciate a heads up if you're going to be late or not show up, it's my grade too," she said, now staring in Ian's tired, but apologetic eyes.
"I..," Ian tried to say, but Sara quickly interjected again, "If you want to make it up to me," she said looking back the burner, "then let's go for a coffee after class and you can tell me what is up with you," she quickly looked over and gave a sly smile at Ian, "you look like you could use it."
Ian sat there staring at Sara, and Sara saw a small smile creep up on the right side of his mouth. "Okay, now, what is step three?" Sara said, beaming inside.
Stay tune - The Shimmer, IV.

The Shimmer, I. The Shimmer, II.
Sara fidgeted nervously in her white lab coat and glanced at the clock, another five minutes had passed and there was no sign of her lab partner, Ian. This wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that Ian was late to class, but what bothered Sara the most was, this was not like Ian at all. Ian was always on time to biology class, in fact, he was the professor's favorite because he was so brilliant and asked the best questions.
"Where are you Ian," Sara whispered to herself as she lit the small Bunsen burner on the lab table. She glanced around the classroom and saw to her dismay, there were no other lab partners that were missing - she was alone and if Ian didn't show, she would be only given half credit for the lab.
"Fucking prick," Sara scathed under her breath, losing hope that Ian would ever show. But lo and behold, a second later, a tired looking Ian walked through the lab door, one arm lazily flailing about, trying to fit it inside the arm hole of his lab coat.
"Need some help there, slacker?" Sara said relieved and half amused watching him struggle. Ian smiled weakly at Sara as he successfully pulled his arm through, and said, "Sorry I'm late, again." Sara looked at the dark circles under Ian's eyes, "You look a bit rough there, Ian. Not sleeping well? We're not even in finals week yet."
Ian looked away and then down at the floor, and that is when Sara noticed his shoes were covered in a dark substance, like mud, caked onto the outer rim of his soles. When Ian noticed that Sara had followed his gaze down to his shoes, he quickly shuffled off mumbling, "I'll grab the beakers."
Sara had never seen Ian act so strangely since she had met him freshman year and was a little concerned. "Was he sleepwalking around outside or something?" she wondered to herself. She decided she would offer him some help, should he need it, just as a friend. "Yeah, just as a friend," she quietly confirmed sarcastically to herself.
Ian had no idea that Sara had feelings for him and that she loved his brilliant mind and his childlike curiosity that shined through in certain moments through an otherwise serious type of personality. She had watched him doodling in his composition book during lectures, but somehow, he was always the first to finish an assignment or a test and received full marks.
Sara had made it a point to finally introduce herself to Ian, casually, after sitting next to him in the lecture hall, and commented on his most recent masterpiece - a pencilwork sketch of an intricate nature scene. Ian's pages were covered in a sprawling forest, a giant tree, and numerous beehives. Now, they were lab partners.
Ian's sketches made sense to Sara, as she remembered also enjoying the warm days on the outskirts of the campus and being completely enraptured by the university's apiary that was located there. She remembered Ian seeming to take a particular interest in the giant honeybees, but that wasn't strange either, since most students expressly enjoyed witnessing the giant honeybees. Ian, however, had chosen to stay behind the rest of the class and talk with the beekeeper.
Sara decided, she would just make small talk with Ian and see if anything was bothering him, and maybe get him to talk about his interest with the giant honeybees in case he was feeling down.
After setting up and working in focused silence on their lab together for about 10 minutes, Sara decided Ian wasn't going to say much, unless she broke the ice.
"Hey Busybee, can you please hand me the 10ml pipette, please?" Ian shook his head and handed her a clean dropper, not breaking his gaze from the lab instructions he had picked up. "Thanks," she squeaked, trying to sound friendly and approachable.
“So...do you have any plans for the weekend Ian…besides maybe catching up on some Z's?" she giggled, trying not to seem prying. Ian remained quiet, holding the lab instructions in his hands, but was clearly not reading them. And then suddenly, Ian spoke in a hushed tone, "Sara, do you want to see something?" His eyes still staring blankly at the lab instructions.
Sara's heart skipped a beat and she felt her face flush, "Uh, sure? Like right now?" she said glancing up at the clock. "We still have 30 minutes left of lab to go." Ian, broke his eyes away to look over at Sara, puzzled, and that is when Sara realized she had let her secret slip. "Uh, I mean…Well, what do you mean exactly?" Sara said, kicking herself. Ian held up the lab instructions and pointed to a section of the instructions to show Sara, and said, "We have to reduce the heat in step four," he said smiling weakly at her.
"Ian, I know that, *we're* just now done with step two, she said sounding slightly irritated, but more at herself for becoming hopeful. "If you had got here at the start of class we wouldn't be so pressed for time," she said flatly. Ian started to say something, but Sara interrupted him, seizing her chance to broach the subject. "If you have something going on, that's a different story, but I would appreciate a heads up if you're going to be late or not show up, it's my grade too," she said, now staring in Ian's tired, but apologetic eyes.
"I..," Ian tried to say, but Sara quickly interjected again, "If you want to make it up to me," she said looking back the burner, "then let's go for a coffee after class and you can tell me what is up with you," she quickly looked over and gave a sly smile at Ian, "you look like you could use it."
Ian sat there staring at Sara, and Sara saw a small smile creep up on the right side of his mouth. "Okay, now, what is step three?" Sara said, beaming inside.
Stay tuned - The Shimmer, IV.

Continuing…
They all know who I am and as they say “RHIP”, or rank has its privilege. They’re all Oil Patch and know that I’ve been around the block a few times, handle explosives with the greatest of ease, and ran more rigs and drilled more meters than most of them have had hot dinners.
All salt of the earth types. I just lay a few ground rules; such as no firearms, no excessive drinking and if there’s a major problem, they come to see me first. These guys are true Oil Patch and guarantee me that all shall be done as I require.
Besides, I’ll be running the Bowling Ball Bingo show and the only one with access to explosives. They know all about field explosives and are as wary of it as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. That I can handle the stuff with deft and aplomb, they both respect and admire that.
“It’s good to be the king”, I think, recalling a line from a favorite Mel Brook’s movie.
I’ve got the guys off setting up the checkerboard for bowling ball bingo.
“Y’know”, I said after a week or so of farting around designing and building everything, “We’ve not had a shakedown on the punt guns (bowling ball mortars)”.
“That’s right.”, Kit agreed. I toss him my truck keys and he and half the guys take off to Madden’s place to pick-up the cannons so we might test them.
Earlier, I figured that each square of the 8×8 matrix I’m working on could be 1 meter square. However real BINGO numbers go to 75, so I’d have to use an odd shape, like 5×15 target area.
First, we need to see how the cannons are going to work.
Luckily, I’ve got a lockbox in the bed of my truck. In there I have a nice little selection of black and gun powder, dynamite (40-50-60-70% Herculene Xtra-Fast), some bricks of C-4, RDX, PETN and the usual assortment of blasting caps, cannon fuse, variable millisecond delay caps, blasting cap super-boosters, a couple of galvanometers, as well as a few handheld and floor-model detonators.
Some combination of these should put the bowling ball up in a ballistic trajectory where it’ll come down somewhere on the grid. That area will be flagged and the number read out by the guys who will be riding quads out in the field. I’ve researched the innumerable types of games one can play with bingo (remembering to order the Bingo Cards), and chosen 4 to be run, to keep it somewhat simple. We have to determine the cost of cards and the types of payouts.
I’ll run by and see Father Rivera at the local Catholic Church. He should be a fountain of bingo knowledge. He was helpful to the idea that each cash payout had to be larger than the last, so plan accordingly.
The guys show up with the finished cannons, all painted a different color (red, green, blue and black) and half a trailer full of slightly scorched bowling balls.
We use a boom arm off the Cat to pick up the cannons and site them sort of where we plan to put the ‘shooting gallery’. I walk back from my truck with an assortment of explosives and explosive paraphernalia.
“School’s about to commence, guys. Gather ‘round.”, I say to all present.
I go through about an hour’s worth of explanation and discourse on the care and feeding of explosivores. I show what small samples of every explosive I carry does in both confined and unreconstructed areas.
I do think I got their attention when I made a full 40-ounce beer bottle simply disappear with the addition of one of my home-brew binary liquids.
Don’t worry. It was just Old English Malt Liquor. No great loss.
I supervised the setting up of a cannon with some black powder. We could ignite electrically or just use some cannon fuse.
“Cannon fuse? What do you use that for?”
“My cannons.”
Obviously.
So, I estimated that a half-pound of Fourxxxx would give the first ball the proper trajectory. We aligned the thing the best we could (as it had no sights, this was being done solely by seat-of-one’s-pants trial and error), charged the cannon, added a projectile and made certain it was seated snugly, but not too tightly. We ran over the full-fledged Safety Dance, cleared the compass, tootled the area with our airhorns and at the count of FIRE!
I had Kit light the ceremonious first fuse.
“K-BLAMMMM!”
Not too bad. Except we overshot the grid by ~550 yards and the only way we could estimate the landing area of the bowling ball was by the splash and irritated trout of the Lower San Juan River.
“And that, my friends,” I said seriously, “Is why you have dry runs and an open firing range.”
The rest of the day was taken up with both testing different combinations of explosives and recording the results. We had a couple of quad bikes on loan from the local sand rail company, so I had the guys take turns going out, running down the ball’s landing zone and calculating the distance and accuracy.
Around ball number 12, we were getting consistent results with both C-4 and PETN. All it took was a bit of gimbaling on the cannon’s major axis and we had the problem well in hand and the cannons dialed in pretty damn well.
I figured to make a buck or two extra, we could charge folks a small donation to tilt the cannon one direction or another and maybe, charge them for upping or reducing the charge volume.
“Step right up, folks”, I can imagine, “Drop a dollar for a degree and a fiver for the charge.”
Thinking that if people were really watching their cards, they’d want any sort of edge to get that final number, especially with a growing jackpot.
We had contracted one of the electrical shops in town to build a tote-board 5×15 with the letters BINGO alight. That way, people could see where we were hitting, what numbers were officially “off the board” as we’d light a LED on that particular square and where they might shift a cannon to hit one or more preferred numbers.
We also devised a ruler, of sorts, that was divided into quarters. Any question of the bowling ball impacted in one number or another, we’d employ the divider. Whichever had the greatest coverage, well, that was the number.
This was set up in the rules beforehand and posted at the shooting gallery and other areas around the park.
Since this was to be a more-or-less charitable event, we had to figure out the cost for parking (turned out to be free), cost of various beers (between $1 and $4), our take from the food court (we decided on 25%), how much to pay security (the voted and did it for free beer of which my say was absolute), and various other things like “which charity?”
Most everyone was donating some time or effort or materials, so no one wanted any pay other than free admittance. We even had a couple of farmers almost come to loggerheads as to who could provide a more elegant petting zoo.
The organizers held a conclave and decided that the bulk of the funds accrued would go to the local kid’s sports collective. Another chunk of change was to go to the recently closed (for financial reasons) public natatorium in town to get it back up to specs and operating, as well as another portion going to the Oilfield Widows and Orphans fund, and the last going to the library to update their rather meager collections.
What we didn’t expect that once word got out about out little plan, that more of the local businessmen wanted space in the park to peddle their wares.
Their wares being CBD, pot, edibles, and other such botanicals in this most enlightened state.
We said “Sure, but we don’t have a lot of room. We never expected this sort of interest”.
To which, they replied that they don’t need a whole lot of room and would set up between the already established vendors.
The upshot was “Fine. Come one, come all. Just check to see if this is all legal and come on down. First come, first served.”
It was all taking shape, and we even found a printer in town that would print up posters for the soiree and help with their distribution.
We actually had to turn away vendors of such things as mobile phones, double-glazed windows and gutter cleaning services.
We had run down all the legalities when Zach mentioned that his cousin was a local police officer, and that we should let them know of out plans.
“Sure”, I said, “Why not?”
We still had a section of dying trees that needed attention so one bright and early Thursday morning, everyone assembled over by the trees and the old tree cemetery that probably extended back centuries.
I started in by knocking down a couple of ancient, though riddled, elms. These were big trees, some 1.5 meters in diameter, 100’ tall and heavier than a whore’s conscience. Even with the renovated Cat, they were just too massive and uncooperative to drop and get horizontal.
“Alf”, I said, tossing him my keys, “Go bring my truck over. We’re going to have to change tactics here a bit.”
He was back within minutes, and was wondering what I was now pulling out of my truck’s lockbox.
I produced a 2-cycle gas-operated SkilDrill, complete with Forestry Suppliers extendable drill/augecore bits.
It fired up almost instantly and I instructed where to drill on the old trees to best facilitate the reception of a few sticks of the detonating chemical persuasion.
Kit worked the dozer on some of the outlying trees, and even with its new overhaul, it just couldn’t quite muster up enough oomph to shift some of the larger trees.
While some of the still standing Live Oak were larger than the poor, afflicted elms.
“Better living through chemistry”, I snickered.
I charged and primed a couple of the larger trees and a couple of the more ancient stumps. I wanted shattering, detonating explosions, so I went with liquid binaries (an old Moldovan recipe) on the stumps and a combination of RDX and PETN on the still standing, though leaning, elms.
I decided that this was the place that fuses would be best used. I wanted the binaries to fire first and then, the elms and their charges.
Kit and crew took off in my truck and parked a good 750 meters away. I had an idling quad as I set to the business of lighting off various fuses in their proper sequence.
Just as I lit the final fuse, I jumped, well, got in a hurry, on the quad. I headed for Kit and the crew when I see a number of local constabulary and their new cruisers headed my way. If they didn’t abort soon, we’d intersect at a point less than 100 meters from ground zero.
Not good.
So, I drove at full tilt towards them and waving like a madman, convinced them to reverse and perhaps not park so close to a few hundred tons of afflicted, and smoldering, wood.
We rendezvous over by my truck, with Kit and crew hunkered down on the lee side. I yelled for the cops to do likewise. An errant 250-pound piece of dead oak or elm tree could certainly muss up one’s day.
There were 5 of them and they were all carping about how we didn’t do this or have that when suddenly, everybody standing lost their footing.
“Great!”, I exclaimed, “Those binaries work a treat!”
The police were just about to get up and dust themselves off when there was a series of mighty roars, all being liberated at over 19,000’ per second from my handy-dandy RDX-PETN mixtures.
“That’s six”, I said as I stood, “That’s all of them”.
I grabbed some binoculars and looked to the west. There were several large smoking holes, several huge hunks of tree stumps and not a single tree left upright.
“It worked great!”, I said to Kit and crew. “Beats hacking away with chainsaws, especially in this weather.”
“Who is responsible for all this?” one of the cops I didn’t recognize said apoplectically.
“That would be me”. I said and extended a hand for a manly handshake.
“And who the hell are you”, he asked.
Kit, the crew and the rest of the cops looked at him like he sprouted cabbages.
“I am Doctor Rocknocker. BS, MS, MS again, PhD, DSC and holder of International Master Blasters Certifications. Want to see the paperwork?” I asked, slightly huffed.
“Oh, ah. No”, He sputtered. “We were told to come over here and get a briefing on what you all were planning.”
“Or you could have gone to city hall and view the documents there.” I said, slightly perturbed.
“You plan to do this for your upcoming festival?” He asked.
“No”, I replied, “we’re using much smaller punt guns to launch bowling balls.”
“Then what was that?” he exclaimed as he pointed to the still smoldering pile of trees.
“That”, I replied, “Is my partial payment to the landowner here for use of his property.”
I stayed to chat with the police, as Kit and the crew took the Cat over to see what they could move around now.
Everything turned out fine, as they missed my red warning flags indicating that I was planning on doing some blasting.
“Gents”, I said, “Are you not trained in the finer points of high explosives?”
Then there was the issue of the SIDE TRIP.
Es and I were going to take a day or 5, go down to Mexico and procure the opening/closing fireworks
Dramatic carsone: My truck: 2023 Dark Red (Burgundy) Dodge Ram 3500. Cap for bed. AKA: “The Pig”.
Es’ car: 1997 Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet Value: AKA: “The Brown Bitch”.
Es was growing tired of her old Porsche. Especially when I was off in my truck doing oilfield things and she had to stuff 250 pounds of recalcitrant Khan into her car for a quick vet trip.
“But you always told me you wanted a Porsche.” I complained.
“Yeah”, Es replied, “I did, but that was then. This in now. You’re gone a lot and I need a bigger vehicle.”
“OK”, I replied, “Your call. What are you looking at?”
“Well”, Es smiled, “There’s this Old Cutlass that I’ve had my eye on...”
I looked at the Internet ad.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus...
Look, I may be a Boomer Gearhead, but my wife eclipses that many-fold.
She’s looking at a fucking serious muscle car.
I got over muscle cars when I blew the 401CI V-8 out of my ‘77 Gremlin years ago.
Now I look for heavy duty, relative large comfort, and ability to haul tons of stuff.
So, off we went to Erdemont, OK.
We found the owner of the car out in the depths of an ancient barn. It appeared he had lived here his entire life.
“You want to be looking at my Olds?” He inquired.
“Yeah”, I replied, “My wife wants to step up from her old Porsche.”
He went over and inspected Es’s car.
For some reason, it was a cream-puff he had to have.
I told Es to go look at his other cars. I needed room to schmooze.
He wanted $105k for the Olds.
He would give $85k for Brown Bitch.
He dropped to $90k and upped BB to $90k.
I lit a cigar and produced a bottle of Kentucky Rye whiskey.
An hour later, we swapped pink slips.
Es is still over the moon.
In case you’re wondering, here’s the details on Es’s new ride: 1984 Hurst/Olds Cutlass: Blocked and blueprinted 455 CI V8, Offenhauser heads/valve covers/blower riser, Jahn’s racing pistons, 4.526-inch bore and 4.75-inch stroke cam, Series 08/61 S/S Crager rims, Mickey Thompson Sportsman S/R 17130QT 325-50D-15 radial ‘RunHot’ DOT Tires, Holley Double Pumper twin 4-barrel carbs, twin Precision on-demand turbos, +36 psi boost, NOX system, and Wilwood racing brakes.
The car’s V-8 dynos at 873 horsepower and around 777 pound-feet of torque. Hurst Lightning Rods Triple Shifter: far right performs the shift from first to second gear. To get up to third gear, use the middle lever. Or leave the lever on the far left in either “D” for Drive or “OD” for Overdrive. One lever could get the job done with the four-speed overdrive automatic; but where’s the fun in that?
It sports “47 coats of hand-rubbed Candy Grape deep purple” lacquer. Button-tucked custom chrome-gray leather interior.
“Deep Purple”. Its new moniker.
Plus it sports an 8-track player.
It was the 8-track player that pushed me over the line.
So, we are now cruising from Oklahoma at near warp-speed towards the Mexican border.
“Are you really this tired of life or are you just seeing what this thing will do?” I asked as we passed a defunct Weigh Station at 123 mph.
“I’m just trying to sort this all out”, Es smiled a mile wide. “Hang on, I’m going to hit the blowers...”
Very much of the scenery between Oklahoma and Mexico passed as a painted blur.
“Pulled out of San Pedro late one night.
The moon and the stars was shinin' bright.
We was drivin' up Grapevine Hill
Passing cars like they was standing still.
Now I thought she'd lost all sense
And telephone poles looked like a picket fence.
I said "Slow down! I see spots!
The lines on the road just look like dots."
We passed an ICE immigration post at 147 miles per hour; the car purring like a Cheshire Cat with a deep, dark secret.
“Es, darling. Could we slow down a bit?” I implored.
“Well, OK”, Es replied. “Spoilsport. I never got the second turbo to kick in...”
Remind me to phone Geico when we return home and up our policies…
Down in Mexico, we purchased enough ordnance to stockpile a third-world nation. If fact, the trunk was so full, we put the spares in the backseat. We then lined the backseat with more aerials, ground effects and boomer-busters than should be allowed.
It took some serious talking and hand-outs to get back into the US.
“No, really”, I explained. “It for my research. Into seismic events. In the San Juan Basin.”
“No, really”, I explained, “I am globally fully certified Class-A explosives expert.”
“No, really”, I explained, “I’m just getting supplies for the Fourth of July.”
Well, that didn't work worth a shit, so I slipped them a couple of new Benjamins and the next thing you know, we’re in Truth or Consequences dawdling over a breakfast of enchiladas, burritos and smothered tacos.
Now, driving home from Mexico to New Mexico with fireworks can be a thrilling yet potentially risky endeavor. So what if you take a few risks? That’s where the fun is…
Anyways, it's more or less essential to be aware of the regulations regarding transporting fireworks across borders, as they can vary between countries and states.
Here are some key points to consider:
Legal Regulations: Make sure you're aware of the laws regarding fireworks in both Mexico and New Mexico. Transporting certain types of fireworks may be restricted or even prohibited. However, this doesn’t apply if you’re certified internationally and well known in this part of the world.
Safety Precautions: Ensure that the fireworks are properly secured and stored during transit to prevent any accidents or damage. Keep them away from any potential sources of ignition. Don’t leave them in the sun, near ashtrays or next to smoldering cigars. Words to live by...
Documentation: Carry all necessary paperwork, including receipts or permits for the fireworks, especially if they are large quantities or commercial-grade. Or, just be certified and pay bribes. Eh’. Either way.
Border Crossing: Be prepared for possible inspections at the border. Declare the fireworks to the customs officials and follow their instructions. Failure to declare or attempting to smuggle fireworks across borders can lead to serious legal consequences. More bribery. Or, as I like to call it, “pump priming”. “Benjamins, mis amigos!”
Transportation Vehicle: Ensure that the vehicle you're using for transportation is suitable for carrying fireworks safely. Avoid overcrowding the vehicle or storing fireworks in a manner that could cause them to shift or fall during transit. Make sure it’s runs like a raped ape. Speed thrills or something like that. Faster and faster ‘till the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death.
Route Planning: Plan your route carefully, taking into account any restrictions or regulations regarding the transportation of fireworks. Avoid areas with high fire risk, especially during dry seasons. Or, just stick to the blacktop superslab when trying to establish new land-speed records.
Emergency Preparedness: Have a plan in place in case of emergencies, such as a fire or accident involving the fireworks. Carry fire extinguishers and other safety equipment in the vehicle. Or just jettison that which is smoking when it shouldn’t be. Scares the hell out of returning coyotes and nervous cartel members.
Local Regulations: Upon reaching New Mexico, familiarize yourself with any additional state or local regulations regarding the storage and use of fireworks. Or just drive like hell and get the car in the garage as soon as possible and avoid all the paperwork frivolities.
Remember, safety should always be the top priority when transporting fireworks. If you're unsure about any aspect of the process, it's best to seek guidance from authorities or legal experts to ensure compliance with all relevant regulations. Or just use common sense, drive mostly at night and carry large, heavy caliber sidearms. Equip your ride with ample cup holders and ash trays.
We blew past Socorro, Albuquerque and Bernalillo like they weren’t even there. We did slow down in Cuba to stop at the Cuba Cafe for Navajo Tacos, Fry Bread and Liver and Onions.
Best damned liver and onions this side of my kitchen.
Further north and somewhat west, Es lightly tapped the brakes, spun us in a slick 180⁰ degree Bootlegger Spin, and backed perfectly into our garage.
I was secretly thrilled when the garage door clattered closed as Es’ car rumbled down like the old Adam West-version Batmobile. Sure, it cost a ton in gas, but once I get this record ratified, we’ll have something else to charge after…
Khan was pleased once we got all of the ordnance out of the new car as he staked his claim on the Old’s back seat; something he couldn’t do in the Porsche Brown Bitch.
Also, someone once again borrowed my truck without telling me.
I hope.
Enough of this nonsense. Everything’s locked in my two back yard explosives sheds (Yes. 2 sheds…) and I need a stiff drink or seven, a new cigar and a few laps around our new Jacuzzi. Es and I designed one around a South West US fire-pit, bar-be-que, wet bar, and media center.
It’s already 0300 and we’re floating in our own personal worlds. Es has granted me the necessary time to complete our ball park-Bingo Hall mission, but that’s for tomorrow. And in the words of the famous philosopher Felix E. Feist, ‘tomorrow is another day’.
G’night, all. YAWN.
The dawn broke ridiculously bright and sunny as so often happens when there’s no mesotropical storms in the area. The sky was blue as a newborn baby’s veins and the dawn clear and uncluttered as a fake royal lineage.
I woke, looked out side and grumbled: “Bloody weather”.
I’m often a grumpy curmudgeon before my first coffee.
Bolstered by a large, black Kona, an equally large and black Camacho Triple Maduro, along with a phone call from Rick that he had my truck, the morning was shaping up to be something that might not only be tolerated, but potentially actually enjoyed.
Khan was already fed and had his walkies. Luckily our next-door neighbor’s kid Igor loved walking Khan.
Seems no one gave him the tiniest bit of shit when he’s out walking Khan.
Es had run into town to secure some floss or twine or barbed wire or something for her latest needlepoint project. This should keep her busy for hours.
The guys worked diligently while Es and I were out and about. Good thing, too, as the festival night was rapidly approaching.
I wondered about another coffee when my goddamned work phone began to warble.
“Shit, shit, shit!”, I growled. “Not now. Go call someone else...”
“Yeah?”, I said gruffly into the rap-rod. “What do you want?”
It was the County Commissioner.
“Yeah, Jerry?”, I said.
Well, some county employee had mown too close to a small gas well, of which there are about 800,000 in the San Juan Basin.
Clipped it, upset one or another metal-to-metal seals and the damn thing caught fire.
“Just what the fuck I need.” I groused.
“Where, when and how?”, I asked Jerry.
“Yeah. OK. I know the area. As soon as I can retrieve my truck, I’ll go out and handle it. What? No, this one I’ll handle alone. Get your check writing machine going, Jer, I charge triple for emergencies.”
As far as oil-gas well fires go, this one was a sparkler compared to some of the 48” Japanese shells I’ve handled. Got a hold of Rick and he hotfooted it back with my truck (after he cleaned out the empties and cleared the ashtrays). The fire was about 12 miles distant and after I dropped Rick off at the fairgrounds, I gave him orders for the day.
“I’m out of pocket for a few hours”, I informed him. “You’re in charge until I get back. You know the routine. Get everything up and running, I want a dry-run when I return.”
Rick appreciated that when I put someone in charge of a project, I mean it. I also me that if you do well, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. If you fuck up, however, then the 2,000-pound shithammer’s gonna fall.
I trust Rick and the rest of my crew. I fully expect everything to be standing tall and looking good when I return.
I jump in my truck, smell the inevitable aroma of some Mexican Agriculture (which is very legal hereabouts) and notice my truck has recently been run through the local Pep-Boys cleaning and detailing service.
Fair dinkum, mate.
On my way to the well, I made a series of calls. I let the operator know that I was on the job, I let Jerry know I was en-route. I let the others, whom shall remain nameless, sit and stew.
“Listen, Agent Rack”, I said into my brand new, Government issued cell phone telephone, “I know it’s been a while and you and Agent Ruin are champing at the but to get back in the field, but after that last little tadoo in Russia and Ukraine, I’m not so sure I want to be associated with you types.”
Both agents gasped in disbelief. They were well trained, by some of the greatest divas in the business, how to feign emotions and act all put out when they were really just bored and wanted out of the office.
“OK”, I finally relented, “This job is a doddle. Even if I dawdle, my pipe won’t even get to the dottle on this job.”
“OK, fine”, I finally relented. “If I’m not working on this little blowout, then you can meet me over at the County Fairgrounds and help me run through the exhibits and games. In fact, that’s be a good use of your time here. That way, I can write all of this off and have the Agency foot the bill.”
They readily agreed and noted they’d be seeing me in no less than 4 hours.
“I can hardly wait”, I replied to what I suspected was already a dead phone.
“Kids...”, I said in head-shaking amusement as Rack and Ruin, Senior Agents all, we fully 20 years my junior.
And I never let a moment pass when I could remind them of this temporal anomaly.
I knew just about where the fire was by the density ripple emanating off the smooth plain. I drove up to the wee little pumpjack and say it was still burning.
“Pfft.”, I pffted. “Only 400 pounds on the static gauge.” No oil. No condensate. Just a gasser that blowing out of a small orifice created when some county knothead mowed too closely to the thing and bumped it off kilter.
I decided that I could handle this by myself.
I got into my hot suit, the spiffy super-reflective silver one with the internal air conditioning, and picked out a likely-looking sledgehammer.
To be continued…

Mine is Aardvark Aardwolf Abyssinian Abyssinian Guinea Pig Acadian Flycatcher Achrioptera Manga Ackie Monitor Addax Adélie Penguin Admiral Butterfly Aesculapian Snake Affenpinscher Afghan Hound African Bullfrog African Bush Elephant African Civet African Clawed Frog African Fish Eagle African Forest Elephant African Golden Cat African Grey Parrot African Jacana African Palm Civet African Penguin African Sugarcane Borer African Tree Toad African Wild Dog Africanized bee (killer bee) Agama Lizard Agkistrodon Contortrix Agouti Aidi Ainu Airedale Terrier Airedoodle Akbash Akita Akita Shepherd Alabai (Central Asian Shepherd) Alaskan Husky Alaskan Klee Kai Alaskan Malamute Alaskan Pollock Alaskan Shepherd Albacore Tuna Albatross Albertonectes Albino (Amelanistic) Corn Snake Aldabra Giant Tortoise Alligator Gar Allosaurus Allosaurus Alpaca Alpine Dachsbracke Alpine Goat Alusky Amano Shrimp Amargasaurus Amazon Parrot Amazon River Dolphin (Pink Dolphin) Amazon Tree Boa Amazonian Royal Flycatcher Amberjack Ambrosia Beetle American Alligator American Alsatian American Bulldog American Bully American Cocker Spaniel American Cockroach American Coonhound American Dog Tick American Eel American Eskimo Dog American Foxhound American Hairless Terrier American Leopard Hound American Paddlefish American Pit Bull Terrier American Pugabull American Pygmy Goat American Robin American Staffordshire Terrier American Toad American Water Spaniel American Wirehair Amethystine Python (Scrub Python) Amphicoelias Fragillimus Amur Leopard Anaconda Anatolian Shepherd Dog Anchovies Andrewsarchus Angelfish Angelshark Angled Sunbeam Caterpillar Anglerfish Angora Ferret Angora Goat Anhinga Anna’s Hummingbird Anole Lizard Anomalocaris Ant Antarctic Scale Worm Anteater Antelope Anteosaurus Antiguan Racer Snake Ape Apennine Wolf Appenzeller Dog Apple Head Chihuahua Apple Moth Arabian Cobra Arabian Wolf Arafura File Snake Arambourgiania Arapaima Archaeoindris Archaeopteryx Archaeotherium Archelon Turtle Archerfish Arctic Char Arctic Fox Arctic Hare Arctic Wolf Arctodus Arctotherium Argentavis Magnificens Argentine Black and White Tegu Argentine Horned Frog Argentinosaurus Arizona Bark Scorpion Arizona Black Rattlesnake Arizona Blonde Tarantula Arizona Coral Snake Armadillo Armadillo Lizard Armenian Gampr Armored Catfish Armyworm Arsinoitherium Arthropleura Aruba Rattlesnake Ashy Mining Bee Asian Arowana Asian Carp Asian Cockroach Asian Elephant Asian Giant Hornet Asian Lady Beetle Asian Longhorn Beetle Asian Palm Civet Asian Vine Snake Asian Water Monitor Asiatic Black Bear Asp Asp Caterpillar Assassin Bug Assassin Snail Atlantic Cod Atlantic Salmon Atlantic Sturgeon Atlas Beetle Atlas Moth Aurochs Aussiedoodle Aussiedor Aussiepom Australian Bulldog Australian Cattle Dog Australian Cockroach Australian Firehawk Australian Flathead Perch Australian Gecko Australian Kelpie Dog Australian Labradoodle Australian Mist Australian Retriever Australian Shepherd Australian Shepherd Mix Australian Terrier Australopithecus Australorp Chicken Avocet Axanthic Ball Python Axolotl Ayam Cemani Aye-aye Azawakh
Babirusa Baboon Bactrian Camel Badger Bagle – Basset Hound Mix Bagworm Moth Bagworm Moth Caterpillar Baird’s Rat Snake Bald Eagle Baleen Whale Balinese Balkan Lynx Ball Python Bamboo Shark Bamboo Worms Banana Ball Python Banana Cinnamon Ball Python Banana Eel Banana Spider Banded Krait Banded Palm Civet Banded Water Snake Bandicoot Banjo Catfish Barb Barbet Barbut’s Cuckoo Bumblebee Barinasuchus Bark Beetle Bark Scorpion Barn Owl Barn Spider Barn Swallow Barnacle Barnevelder Barosaurus Barracuda Barramundi Fish Barred Owl Barreleye Fish (Barrel Eye) Barylambda Basenji Dog Basenji Mix Basilisk Lizard Basilosaurus Basking Shark Bass Bassador Basset Fauve de Bretagne Basset Hound Bassetoodle Bat Bat-Eared Fox Batfish Bavarian Mountain Hound Baya Bea-Tzu Beabull Beagador Beagle Beagle Mix Beagle Shepherd Beaglier Beago Bear Bearded Collie Bearded Dragon Bearded Fireworm Bearded Vulture Beaski Beauceron Beauty rat snake Beaver Bed Bugs Bedlington Terrier Bee Bee-Eater Beefalo Beetle Beewolf wasp Belgian Canary Belgian Laekenois Belgian Malinois Belgian Malinois Mix Belgian Sheepdog Belgian Shepherd Belgian Tervuren Belted Kingfisher Beluga Sturgeon Beluga Sturgeon Bengal Tiger Bergamasco Berger Blanc Suisse Berger Picard Bernedoodle Bernese Mountain Dog Bernese Mountain Dog Mix Bernese Shepherd Betta Fish (Siamese Fighting Fish) Bhutan Takin Bichir Bichon Frise Bichpoo Biewer Terrier Bigfin Reef Squid Bighorn Sheep Bilby Binturong Bird Bird Of Paradise Bird Snake Birman Biscuit Beetle Bismarck Ringed Python Bison Black And Tan Coonhound Black and White Warbler Black Aphids Black Bass Black Crappie Black Dragon Lizard Black German Shepherd Black Mamba Black Marlin Black Mouth Cur Black Pastel Ball Python Black Rat Snake Black Rhinoceros Black Russian Terrier Black Sea Bass Black Swallowtail Black Swallowtail Caterpillar Black Tarantula Black Throat Monitor Black Wasp Black Widow Spider Black Witch Moth Black-Bellied Whistling Duck Black-Capped Chickadee Black-Footed Ferret Black-headed python Black-Tailed Rattlesnake Blackburnian Warbler Blackfin Tuna Blacknose Shark Blackpoll Warbler Blacktip Reef Shark Blacktip Shark Bladefin Basslet Blanket Octopus Blind Snake Blister Beetle Blister Beetle Blobfish Blood Python Bloodhound Blowfly Blue Andalusian Blue Belly Lizard Blue Catfish Blue Death Feigning Beetle Blue Dragon Sea Slug Blue Eyed Pleco Blue German Shepherd Blue Gray Gnatcatcher Blue grosbeak Blue Iguana Blue Jay Blue Lacy Dog Blue Nose Pit Bull Blue Picardy Spaniel Blue Racer Blue Shark Blue Tanager (Blue-Grey Tanager) Blue Tang Blue Tit Blue Whale Blue-Ringed Octopus Bluefin Tuna Bluefish Bluegill Bluetick Coonhound Boas Bobcat Bobolink Boelen’s python Boer Goat Boerboel Boggle Boglen Terrier Boiga Bolivian Anaconda Bolognese Dog Bombardier Beetle Bombay Bonefish Bongo Bonito Fish Bonnethead Shark Bonobo Booby Boomslang Booted Bantam Borador Border Collie Border Collie Mix Border Terrier Bordoodle Borkie Bornean Orangutan Borneo Elephant Boskimo Boston Terrier Bottlenose Dolphin Bouvier Des Flandres Bowfin Bowhead Whale Box Jellyfish Box Tree Moth Box Turtle Box-Headed Blood Bee Boxachi Boxador Boxer Dog Boxer Mix Boxerdoodle Boxfish Boxsky Boxweiler Boykin Spaniel Bracco Italiano Brachiosaurus Brahma Chicken Brahminy Blindsnake Braque du Bourbonnais Braque Francais Brazilian Black Tarantula Brazilian Terrier Brazilian Treehopper Bredl’s Python Briard British Timber Brittany Brontosaurus Bronze Whaler Shark Bronze-winged Jacana Brook Trout Brookesia Micra Brown Bear Brown Dog Tick Brown Headed Cowbird Brown Hyena Brown Snake Brown Tree Snake Brown Water Snake Brown-banded Cockroach Brug Brussels Griffon Budgerigar Buff Orpington Chicken Buffalo Buffalo Fish Bull and Terrier Bull Shark Bull Terrier Bull Trout Bullboxer Bulldog Bulldog Mix Bullfrog Bullmastiff Bullsnake Bumblebee Burmese Burmese Python Burrowing Frog Burrowing Owl Bush Baby Bush Viper Bushmaster Snake Butterfly Butterfly Fish
Cabbage Moth Cactus Moth Cactus Mouse Cactus Wren Caecilian Caiman Caiman Lizard Cairn Terrier California Condor California Kingsnake California Tarantula Camel Camel Cricket Camel Spider Campine Chicken Canaan Dog Canada Lynx Canada Warbler Canadian Eskimo Dog Canadian Horse Cane Corso Cane Rat Cane Spider Cantil Canvasback Cape Lion Capuchin Capybara Caracal Cardinal Caribbean Reef Shark Caribou Carolina Dog Carolina Parakeet Carp Carpenter Ant Carpet Beetle Carpet Python Carpet Viper Carrion Beetle Cascabel Cashmere Goat Cassowary Cat Cat Snake Cat-Eyed Snake Cat-Faced Spider Catahoula Bulldog Catahoula Leopard Catalan Sheepdog Caterpillar Catfish Caucasian Mountain Dog (Shepherd) Caucasian Shepherd Cava Tzu Cavador Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Cavapoo Cave Bear Cave Lion Cecropia Moth Cedar Waxwing Centipede Central Ranges Taipan Cephalaspis Ceratopsian Ceratosaurus Cervalces latifrons (Broad-Fronted Moose) Cesky Fousek Cesky Terrier Chain Pickerel Chameleon Chamois Chartreux Cheagle Checkered Garter Snake Cheetah Chesapeake Bay Retriever Chestnut-Sided Warbler Chi Chi Chickadee Chicken Chicken Snake Chigger Chihuahua Chihuahua Mix Children’s python Chilean Recluse Spider Chilean Rose Tarantula Chilesaurus Chimaera Chimpanzee Chinchilla Chinese Alligator Chinese Cobra Chinese Crested Dog Chinese Geese Chinese Paddlefish Chinese Shar-Pei Chinese Water Deer Chinook Chinook Salmon Chinstrap Penguin Chipit Chipmunk Chipoo Chipping Sparrow Chiton Chiweenie Chorkie Chow Chow Chow Pom Chow Shepherd Christmas Beetle Christmas Island Red Crab Chromodoris Willani Chusky Cicada Cichlid Cinereous Vulture Cinnamon Ball Python Cinnamon Bear Cinnamon Ferret Clark’s Grebe Clearnose Skate Click Beetle Clock Spider Clothes Moth Clouded Leopard Clownfish Clumber Spaniel Coachwhip Snake Coastal Carpet Python Coastal Taipan Coati Cobalt Blue Tarantula Cobia Fish Cobras Cochin Chicken Cockalier Cockapoo Cockatiel Cockatoo Cocker Spaniel Cockle Cockroach Coconut Crab Codfish Codling Moth Coelacanth Collared Peccary Collett’s Snake Collie Collie Mix Colossal Squid Comb Jellyfish Comb-crested Jacana Comet Moth Comfort Retriever Common Buzzard Common Carp Common European Adder Common Frog Common Furniture Beetle Common Goldeneye Common Grackle Common Green Magpie Common House Spider Common Loon Common Raven Common Spotted Cuscus Common Toad Common Yellowthroat Compsognathus Cone Snail Conger Eel Congo Snake Conure Cookiecutter Shark Cooper’s Hawk Copperhead Coral Coral Snake Corella Corgidor Corgipoo Corkie Corman Shepherd Cormorant Corn Earworm Corn Rex Cat (Cornish Rex) Corn Snake Cory Catfish Coryphodon Costa’s Hummingbird Coton de Tulear Cotton-top Tamarin Cottonmouth Coues Deer Cougar Cow Cow Reticulated Python Coyote Crab Crab Spider Crab-Eating Fox Crab-Eating Macaque Crabeater Seal Crane Crappie Fish Crayfish Crested Gecko Crested Penguin Cricket Croatian Sheepdog Crocodile Crocodile Monitor Crocodile Shark Crocodylomorph Cross Fox Cross River Gorilla Crow Crucian Carp Cryolophosaurus Cuban Boa Cuban Cockroach Cubera Snapper Cuckoo Cucumber Beetle Curly Coated Retriever Curly Hair Tarantula Cuttlefish Czechoslovakian Wolfdog
Dachsador Dachshund Dachshund Mix Daeodon Dalmadoodle Dalmador Dalmatian Dalmatian Mix Damselfish Dandie Dinmont Terrier Daniff Danios Danish Swedish Farmdog Dapple Dachshund Dark-Eyed Junco Dark-Eyed Junco Darkling Beetle Darwin’s fox Darwin’s Frog Daug De Brazza’s Monkey De Kay’s Brown Snake Death Adder Death’s Head Cockroach Deathwatch Beetle Decorator Crab Deer Deer Head Chihuahua Deer Mouse Deer Tick Deinocheirus Deinosuchus Desert Ghost Ball Python Desert Kingsnake Desert Locust Desert Rain Frog Desert Tortoise Desert Wolf Desmostylus Deutsche Bracke Devil’s Coach Horse Beetle Devon Rex Dhole Diamond Python Diamondback Moth Dickcissel Dickinsonia Dik-Dik Dilophosaurus Dimetrodon Diminutive Woodrat Dingo Dinocrocuta Dinofelis Dinopithecus Dinosaur Shrimp Dinosaurs Diplodocus Diprotodon Dire Wolf Disco Clam Discus Diving Bell Spider (Water Spider) Diving Duck Doberman Pinscher Dobsonfly Dodo Doedicurus Dog Dog Tick Dogo Argentino Dogue De Bordeaux Dolphin Donkey Dorgi Dorkie Dorking Chicken Dormouse Double Doodle Douc Downy Woodpecker Doxiepoo Doxle Draco Volans Lizard Dragon Eel Dragon Snake (Javan Tubercle Snake, Javan Mudsnake) Dragonfish Dragonfly Dreadnoughtus Drever Dried Fruit Moth Dromornis stirtoni Drum Fish Dubia Cockroach Duck Dugong Dumeril’s Boa Dung Beetle Dungeness Crab Dunker Dunkleosteus Dunnock Dusky Dolphin Dusky Shark Dutch Rabbit Dutch Shepherd Dwarf Boa Dwarf Crocodile Dwarf Gourami Dwarf Hamster
Eagle Eagle Ray Eared Grebe Earless Monitor Lizard Earthworm Earwig East Siberian Laika Eastern Barred Bandicoot Eastern Bluebird Eastern Box Turtle Eastern Brown Snake Eastern Chipmunk Eastern Coral Snake Eastern Cottontail Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake Eastern Dobsonfly Eastern Fence Lizard Eastern Glass Lizard Eastern Gorilla Eastern Gray Squirrel Eastern Green Mamba Eastern Hognose Snake Eastern Indigo Snake Eastern Kingbird Eastern Lowland Gorilla Eastern Meadowlark Eastern Phoebe Eastern Racer Eastern Rat Snake Eastern Tiger Snake Eastern Turkey (Wild Turkey) Eastern Woodrat Echidna Eclectus Parrot Edible Frog Eel Eel catfish Eelpout Egret Egyptian Cobra (Egyptian Asp) Egyptian Goose Egyptian Mau Egyptian Tortoise Egyptian Vulture Eider Eland Elasmosaurus Elasmotherium Electric Catfish Electric Eel Elegant Tern Elephant Elephant Beetle Elephant Bird Elephant Fish Elephant Seal Elephant Shrew Elf Owl Elk Ember Tetra Embolotherium Emerald Toucanet Emerald Tree Boa Emerald Tree Monitor Emperor Angelfish Emperor Goose Emperor Penguin Emperor Tamarin Emu Enchi Ball Python English Bulldog English Cocker Spaniel English Cream Golden Retriever English Crested Guinea Pig English Foxhound English Longhorn Cattle English Pointer English Setter English Shepherd English Springer Spaniel English Toy Terrier Entlebucher Mountain Dog Epagneul Pont Audemer Epicyon haydeni Epidexipteryx Equatorial Spitting Cobra Equus giganteus Ermine Eryops Escolar Eskimo Dog Eskipoo Estrela Mountain Dog Euoplocephalus Eurasian Beaver Eurasian Bullfinch Eurasian Collared Dove Eurasian Eagle-owl Eurasian Jay Eurasian Lynx Eurasian Nuthatch Eurasian Sparrowhawk Eurasian Wolf Eurasier European Bee-Eater European Corn Borer European Goldfinch European Polecat European Robin European Starling European Wildcat Eurypterus Evening Bat Evening Grosbeak Executioner Wasp Eyelash Viper
Fainting Goat Fairy-Wren Falcon Fallow deer False Cobra False coral snake False Killer Whale False Water Cobra False Widow Spider Fancy Mouse Fangtooth Feather Star Feist Fennec Fox Fer-de-lance Snake Ferret Ferruginous Hawk Fiddler Crab Field Cuckoo Bumblebee Field Spaniel Fierce Snake Figeater Beetle Fila Brasileiro Fin Whale Finch Finnish Lapphund Finnish Spitz Fire Ball Python Fire Eel Fire Salamander Fire-Bellied Toad Firefly Firefly Ball Python Fish Fisher Fishing Cat Fishing Spiders Flamingo Flat-Coated Retriever Flathead Catfish Flea Flea Beetle Fleckvieh Cattle Florida Gar Florida Mouse Florida Panther Florida Woods Cockroach Flounder Flounder Fish Flour Beetle Flowerhorn Fish Fluke Fish (summer flounder) Fly Flycatcher Flying Fish Flying Lemur Flying Snake Flying Squirrel Football Fish Forest Cobra Forest Cuckoo Bumblebee Formosan Mountain Dog Fossa Fox Fox Snakes Fox Squirrel Fox Terrier Freeway Ball Python French Bulldog French Bulldog Mix French Lop Frenchton Frengle Freshwater Crocodile Freshwater Drum Freshwater Eel Freshwater Jellyfish Freshwater Sunfish Frigatebird Frilled Lizard Frilled Shark Fritillary Butterfly Frizzle Chicken Frog Frogfish Frug Fruit Bat Fruit Fly Fulvous Whistling Duck Fur Seal Furrow Bee
Gaboon Viper Gadwall Galapagos Penguin Galapagos Shark Galapagos Tortoise Gar Garden Eel Garden Spider Gargoyle Gecko Garter Snake Gastornis Gazelle Gecko Genet Gentoo Penguin Geoffroys Tamarin Gerberian Shepsky Gerbil German Cockroach German Longhaired Pointer German Pinscher German Shepherd Guide German Shepherd Mix German Sheppit German Sheprador German Shorthaired Pointer German Spitz German Wirehaired Pointer Gharial Ghost Catfish Ghost Crab Giant African Land Snail Giant Armadillo Giant Beaver Giant Clam Giant Desert Centipede Giant Golden Mole Giant House Spider Giant Isopod Giant Leopard Moth Giant Panda Bear Giant Salamander Giant Schnauzer Giant Schnoodle Giant Siphonophore Giant Trevally Giant Weta Giant Wood Moth Gibbon Gigantopithecus Gila Monster Giraffe Glass Frog Glass Lizard Glechon Glen Of Imaal Terrier Glowworm Gnat Goat Goberian Goblin Shark Goby Fish Goldador Goldcrest Golden Dox Golden Eagle Golden Irish Golden Jackal Golden Lancehead Golden Lion Tamarin Golden Masked Owl Golden Mole Golden Newfie Golden Oriole Golden Pyrenees Golden Retriever Golden Retriever Mix Golden Saint Golden Shepherd Golden Shiner Golden Tortoise Beetle Golden Trout Golden-Crowned Flying Fox Golden-Crowned Kinglet Goldendoodle Goldfish Goliath Beetle Goliath Frog Goliath Grouper Goliath Tigerfish Gollie Gomphotherium Goonch Catfish Goose Gooty Sapphire Tarantula Gopher Gopher Snake Gopher Tortoise Goral Gordon Setter Gorgosaurus Gorilla Goshawk Gouldian Finch Gourami Grapevine Beetle Grass Carp Grass Snake Grass Spider Grasshopper Grasshopper Mouse Gray Catbird Gray Fox Gray Tree Frog Great Blue Heron Great Crested Flycatcher Great Dane Great Dane Mix Great Danoodle Great Egret Great Hammerhead Shark Great Kiskadee Great Plains Rat Snake Great Potoo Bird Great Pyrenees Great Pyrenees Mix Great White Shark Greater Swiss Mountain Dog Grebe Green Anaconda Green Anole Green Aphids Green Bee-Eater Green Bottle Blue Tarantula Green Frog Green Heron Green June Beetle Green Mamba Green Rat Snake Green Snake Green Sunfish Green Tree Frog Green Tree Python Greenland Dog Greenland Shark Grey Heron Grey Mouse Lemur Grey Reef Shark Grey Seal Greyhound Griffon Vulture Griffonshire Grizzly Bear Groenendael Ground Snake Ground Squirrel Groundhog (Woodchuck) Groundhog Tick Grouper Grouse Grunion Guadalupe Bass Guinea Fowl Guinea Pig Gulper Catfish Gulper Eel Guppy Gypsy Cuckoo Bumblebee Gypsy Moth Gypsy Moth Caterpillar
Haast’s Eagle Habu Snake Haddock Hagfish Haikouichthys Hainosaurus Hairy Frogfish Hairy Woodpecker Hairy-footed Flower Bee Halibut Hallucigenia Hamburg Chicken Hammerhead Shark Hammerhead Worm Hammond’s flycatcher Hamster Harbor Porpoise Harbor Seal Hardhead Catfish Hare Harlequin Coral Snake Harlequin Rabbit Harp Seal Harpy Eagle Harrier Harris’s Hawk Hartebeest Hatzegopteryx Havamalt Havanese Havapoo Havashire Havashu Hawaiian Crow Hawaiian Goose (Nene) Hawaiian Monk Seal Hawk Hawk Moth Caterpillar Hedgehog Helicoprion Hellbender Hepatic Tanager (Red Tanager) Hercules Beetle Hercules Moth Hermit Crab Heron Herrerasaurus Herring Herring Gull Highland Cattle Himalayan Hippopotamus Hippopotamus gorgops Hoary Bat Hobo Spider Hogfish Hognose snake Hokkaido Holy Cross Frog Honduran White Bat Honey Badger Honey Bee Honey Buzzard Hooded Oriole Hooded Seal Hook-Nosed Sea Snake Hoopoe Horgi Horn Shark Hornbill Horned Adder Horned Beetle Horned Grebe Horned Lizard Horned Viper Hornet Horse Horse Mackerel Horsefly Horseshoe Crab Houdan Chicken House Finch House Sparrow (English Sparrow) House wren Housefly Hovasaurus Hovawart Howler Monkey Human Humboldt Penguin Humboldt Squid Hummingbird Hummingbird Hawk-Moth Humpback Whale Huntaway Huntsman Spider Huskador Huskita Husky Husky Jack Huskydoodle Hyacinth Macaw Hyaenodon Hyena
Ibex Ibis Ibizan Hound Icadyptes Icelandic Sheepdog Ichthyosaurus Ichthyostega Iguana Iguanodon IMG Boa Constrictor Immortal Jellyfish Impala Imperial Moth Inchworm Indian Cobra Indian Elephant Indian Giant Squirrel Indian Palm Squirrel Indian python Indian Rhinoceros Indian Star Tortoise Indianmeal Moth Indigo Snake Indochinese Tiger Indri Inland Taipan Insect Insects Io Moth Irish Doodle Irish Elk Irish Setter Irish Terrier Irish Water Spaniel Irish WolfHound Irukandji Jellyfish Italian Greyhound Ivory-billed woodpecker Ivy Bee
Jabiru Jacana Jack Crevalle Jack Russells Jack-Chi Jackabee Jackal Jackdaw Jackrabbit Jackson’s Chameleon Jagdterrier Jaguar Jaguarundi Cat Jamaican Boa Jamaican Iguana Japanese Bantam Chicken Japanese Beetle Japanese Chin Japanese Macaque Japanese rat snake Japanese Spitz Japanese Squirrel Japanese Terrier Javan Leopard Javan Rhinoceros Javanese Jellyfish Jerboa Jewel Beetle John Dory Jonah Crab Joro Spider Josephoartigasia monesi Jumping Spider Jungle Carpet Python Junglefowl
Kagu Kai Ken Kakapo Kaluga Sturgeon Kamehameha Butterfly Kangal Shepherd Dog Kangaroo Kangaroo Mouse Kangaroo Rat Katydid Kaua’i ‘Ō‘ō Kea Keagle Keel-Billed Toucan Keelback Keeshond Kelp Greenling Kentucky Warbler Kenyan Sand Boa Kermode Bear (Spirit Bear) Kerry Blue Terrier Kestrel Keta Salmon Key Deer Keyhole Cichlid Khao Manee Khapra Beetle Kiang Kiko Goat Killdeer Killer Clown Ball Python Killer Whale Killifish Kinabalu Giant Red Leech Kinder Goat King Cobra King Crab King Eider King Mackerel King Penguin King Quail King Rat Snake King Salmon King Shepherd King Snake King Vulture Kingfisher Kingklip Kinkajou Kirtland’s Snake Kishu Kissing Bugs Kissing Gourami Kit Fox Kitefin Shark Kiwi Klipspringer Knifefish Knight Anole Koala Kodiak Bear Kodkod Koi Fish Kokanee Salmon Komodo Dragon Komondor Kooikerhondje Koolie Korean Jindo Kori Bustard Kouprey Kowari Krait Krill Kudu Kudzu Bug Kuvasz
Labahoula Labmaraner Labout’s Fairy Wrasse Labrabull Labradane Labradoodle Labrador Retriever Labraheeler Labrottie Lace Bug Lace Monitor Ladybug Ladyfish Lagotto Romagnolo Lake Sturgeon Lake Trout Lakeland Terrier LaMancha Goat Lamprey Lancashire Heeler Lancetfish Landseer Newfoundland Lappet-faced Vulture Lapponian Herder Larder Beetle Large Munsterlander Largemouth Bass Laughing Kookaburra Lavender Albino Ball Python Lawnmower Blenny Lazarus Lizard Leaf-Tailed Gecko Leafcutter Ant Leafcutter Bee Least Flycatcher Leatherback Sea Turtle Leech Leedsichthys Leghorn Chicken Leichhardt’s Grasshopper Lemming Lemon Blast Ball Python Lemon Cuckoo Bumblebee Lemon Shark Lemur Leonberger Leopard Leopard Cat Leopard Frog Leopard Gecko Leopard Lizard Leopard Seal Leopard Shark Leopard Tortoise Leptocephalus Lesser Jacana Lesser Scaup Lhasa Apso Lhasapoo Liger Limpet Lineback Cattle Linnet Lion Lion’s Mane Jellyfish Lionfish Liopleurodon Liopleurodon Lipstick Albino Boa Little Brown Bat Little Penguin Livyatan Lizard Lizardfish Llama Loach Lobster Locust Loggerhead Shrike Lone Star Tick Long-Eared Owl Long-Haired Rottweiler Long-Tailed Tit Long-Winged Kite Spider Longfin Mako Shark Longnose Gar Lorikeet Loris Lowchen Lumpfish Luna Moth Luna Moth Caterpillar Lungfish Lurcher Lykoi Cat Lynx Lyrebird Lystrosaurus
Macaque Macaroni Penguin Macaw MacGillivray’s Warbler Machaeroides Mackenzie Valley Wolf Macrauchenia Madagascar Hissing Cockroach Madagascar Jacana Madagascar Tree Boa Madora Moth Magellanic Penguin Maggot Magnolia Warbler Magpie Magyarosaurus Mahi Mahi (Dolphin Fish) Maiasaura Maine Coon Mal Shi Malayan Civet Malayan Krait Malayan Tiger Malchi Mallard Malteagle Maltese Maltese Mix Maltese Shih Tzu Maltipom Maltipoo Mamba Mamushi Snake Man of War Jellyfish Manatee Manchester Terrier Mandarin Rat Snake Mandrill Maned Wolf Mangrove Snake Mangrove Snapper Manta Ray Mantella Frog Marabou Stork Marans Chicken Marble Fox Maremma Sheepdog Margay Marine Iguana Marine Toad Markhor Marmoset Marmot Marsh Frog Marsican Brown Bear Masiakasaurus Masked Angelfish Masked Palm Civet Mason Bee Massasauga Mastador Mastiff Mastiff Mix Mauzer May Beetle Mayan Cichlid Mayfly Meagle Mealworm Beetle Mealybug Meerkat Megalania Megalochelys Megalodon Megamouth Shark Meganeura Megatherium Meiolania Mekong Giant Catfish Merganser Mexican Alligator Lizard Mexican Black Kingsnake Mexican Eagle (Northern crested caracara) Mexican Fireleg Tarantula Mexican Free-Tailed Bat Mexican Mole Lizard Microraptor Midget Faded Rattlesnake Miki Milk Snake Milkfish Milkweed aphids Millipede Mini Labradoodle Mini Lop Miniature Bull Terrier Miniature Husky Miniature Pinscher Mink Minke Whale Mississippi Kite Moccasin Snake Mockingbird Modern Game Chicken Mojarra Mojave Ball Python Mojave Rattlesnake Mola mola (Ocean Sunfish) Mole Mole Crab (Sand Flea) Mole Cricket Mole Snake Mollusk Molly Monarch Butterfly Mongoose Mongrel Monitor Lizard Monkey Monkfish Monocled Cobra Monte Iberia Eleuth Moon Jellyfish Moonglow Boa Moorhen Moose Moray Eel Morkie Morpho Butterfly Mosasaurus Moscow Watchdog Mosquito Moth Mountain Beaver Mountain Bluebird Mountain Cur Mountain Feist Mountain Gorilla Mountain Lion Mourning Dove Mourning Gecko Mourning Warbler Mouse Mouse Spider Mouse-Deer (Chevrotain) Mozambique Spitting Cobra Mud Snake Mudi Mudpuppy Mudskipper Mule Mule Deer Mulga Snake Mullet Fish Muntjac Muscovy Duck Musk Deer Muskellunge (Muskie) Muskox Muskrat Mussurana Snake Muttaburrasaurus Muttaburrasaurus Myna Bird
Nabarlek Naegleria Naked Mole Rat Narwhal Natterjack Nautilus Neanderthal Neapolitan Mastiff Nebelung Needlefish Nelore Cattle Neon Tetra Neptune Grouper Netherland Dwarf Rabbit New Hampshire Red Chicken Newfoundland Newfypoo Newt Nguni Cattle Nicobar pigeon Nigerian Goat Night Adder Night Heron Night Snake Nightingale Nightjar Nile Crocodile Nile Monitor Nile Perch Nilgai No See Ums Norfolk Terrier Norrbottenspets North American Black Bear Northern Alligator Lizard Northern Bobwhite Northern Cardinal Northern Flicker Northern Fur Seal Northern Harrier Northern Inuit Dog Northern Jacana Northern Parula Northern Pintail Northern Potoo Northern Screamer Northern Water Snake Norway Rat Norwegian Buhund Norwegian Elkhound Norwegian Forest Norwegian Lundehund Norwich Terrier Nose-Horned Viper Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever Nubian Goat Nudibranch Numbat Nuralagus Nurse Shark Nut Weevil Nuthatch Nutria Nyala
Oak Toad Oarfish Ocean Perch Ocean Pout Ocean Whitefish Oceanic Whitetip Shark Ocellated Turkey Ocelot Octopus Oenpelli python Oilfish Okapi Old English Sheepdog Old House Borer Oleander Hawk Moth Olingo Olive Baboon Olive python Olive Sea Snake Olm Olympic Marmot Onagadori Chicken Onager Opabinia Opah Opaleye (Rudderfish) Opossum Oranda Goldfish Orange Baboon Tarantula Orange Dream Ball Python Orange Roughy Orange Spider Orange Tanager (Orange-Headed Tanager) Orange-Crowned Warbler Orangutan Orb Weaver Orchard Oriole Orchid Dottyback Oregon Spotted Frog Ori-Pei Oribi Oriental Cockroach Oriental Dwarf Kingfisher Orinoco Crocodile Ornate Bichir Ornate Black-Tailed Rattlesnake Ornate Box Turtle Ornithocheirus Ornithomimus Ortolan Bunting Oscar Fish Osprey Ostracod Ostrich Otter Otterhound Ovenbird Oviraptor Owl Owl Butterfly Owlfly (Ascalaphidae) Ox Oxpecker Oyster Oyster Toadfish Ozark Bass
Pachycephalosaurus Pacific Coast Tick Pacific Sleeper Shark Pacific Spaghetti Eel Paddlefish Pademelon Painted Bunting Painted Turtle Palaeoloxodon namadicus Palaeophis Paleoparadoxia Palm Rat Palo Verde Beetle Panda Pied Ball Python Pangolin Pantaloon Bee Panther Panthera atrox (American Lion) Papillon Papillon Mix Paradise Flying Snake Parakeet Parasaurolophus Parrot Parrot Snake Parrotfish Parrotlet Parson Russell Terrier Parti Schnauzer Partridge Patagonian Mara Patagotitan Patas Monkey Patterdale Terrier Pea Puffer Peacock Peacock Bass Peacock Butterfly Peacock Spider Peagle Peekapoo Pekingese Pelagornis Pelagornithidae Pelican Pelycosaurs Pembroke Welsh Corgi Penguin Pennsylvania Wood Cockroach Peppered Moth Peppermint Angelfish Perch Fish Père David’s Deer Peregrine Falcon Peringuey’s Adder Perro De Presa Canario Persian Peruvian Guinea Pig Peruvian Inca Orchid Pesquet’s Parrot (Dracula Parrot) Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen Petite Goldendoodle Pharaoh Hound Pheasant Pheasant-tailed Jacana Philippine Cobra Phoenix Chicken Phorusrhacos Phytosaurs Picardy Spaniel Pictus Catfish Piebald Dachshund Pied Ball Python Pied Tamarin Pied-Billed Grebe Pig Pig-Nosed Turtle Pigeon Pika Pike Fish Pileated Woodpecker Pinacate Beetle Pine Beetle Pine Marten Pine Siskin Pine Snake Pine Snake Pinfish Pink Bollworm Pink Fairy Armadillo Pink Salmon Pink Toed Tarantula Pink-Necked Green Pigeon Pipe Snake Pipefish Piranha Pit Bull Pit Viper Pitador Pitsky Plains Hognose Snake Platinum Arowana Platybelodon Platypus Plesiosaur Pliosaur Plott Hound Mix Plott Hounds Plymouth Rock Chicken Pocket Beagle Pocket Pitbull Podenco Canario Pointer Pointer Mix Poison Dart Frog Polacanthus Polar Bear Polecat Polish Chicken Polish Lowland Sheepdog Polish Tatra Sheepdog Polka Dot Stingray Pollock Fish Polyphemus Moth Pomapoo Pomchi Pomeagle Pomeranian Pomeranian Mix Pompano Fish Pomsky Pond Skater Poochon Poodle Poogle Pool Frog Porbeagle Shark Porcupine Porcupinefish Portuguese Podengo Possum Potato Beetle Potoo Potoroo Powderpost Beetle Prairie Chicken Prairie Dog Prairie Rattlesnake Prawn Praying Mantis Proboscis Monkey Procoptodon Pronghorn Psittacosaurus Psittacosaurus Pteranodon Pterodactyl Pudelpointer Puertasaurus Puff Adder Pufferfish Puffin Pug Pug Mix Pugapoo Puggle Pugshire Puli Puma Pumi Pumpkin Patch Tarantula Purple Emperor Butterfly Purple Finch Purple Gallinule Purple Tarantula Purussaurus Puss Caterpillar Puss Moth Pygmy Hippopotamus Pygmy Marmoset (Finger Monkey) Pygmy python Pygmy Rattlesnake Pygmy Shark Pygora Goat Pyjama Shark Pyrador Pyredoodle Pyrenean Mastiff Pyrenean Shepherd Pyrosome Python
Quagga Quahog Clam Quail Queen Snake Quetzal Quetzalcoatlus northropi Quokka Quoll
Rabbit Raccoon Raccoon Dog Racer Snake Radiated Tortoise Ragamuffin Ragdoll Raggle Rainbow Boa Rainbow Grasshopper (Dactylotum bicolor) Rainbow Kribs (Kribensis) Rainbow Shark Rat Rat Snakes Rat Terrier Rattlesnake Red Ackie Monitor Red Aphids Red Deer Red Diamondback Rattlesnake Red Drum Fish Red Finch Red Fox Red Kite Red Knee Tarantula Red Nose Pit Bull Red Panda Red Paper Wasp Red Racer Snake Red Spitting Cobra Red Squirrel Red Star Chicken Red Tail Boa (common boa) Red Wolf Red-Bellied Black Snake Red-Bellied Woodpecker Red-Billed Quelea Bird Red-Eared Slider Red-Eyed Tree Frog Red-Footed Tortoise Red-handed Tamarin Red-Headed Vulture Red-Lipped Batfish Red-Shouldered Hawk Red-Tailed Cuckoo Bumblebee Red-winged blackbird Redback Spider Redbone Coonhound Redcap Chicken Redear Sunfish Redhump Eartheater Redstart Redtail Catfish Reef Shark Regal Jumping Spider Reindeer Repenomamus Reticulated python Rex Rabbit Rhamphosuchus Rhea Rhesus Macaque Rhino Beetle Rhino Viper Rhinoceros Rhode Island Red Chicken Rhodesian Ridgeback Rhombic Egg-Eater Snake Ribbon Eel Ribbon Snake Rim Rock Crowned Snake Ring-billed Gull Ringed Kingfisher Rinkhals Snake River Otter River Turtle Roadrunner Robber Flies Robin Rock Bass Rock Crab Rock Hyrax Rock Python Rockfish Rockhopper Penguin Rodents Roe Deer Rooster Root Aphids Rose-Breasted Grosbeak Roseate Spoonbill Rosy Boa Rotterman Rottle Rottsky Rottweiler Rottweiler Mix Rough Earth Snake Rough Green Snake Rough-Legged Hawk (Rough-Legged Buzzard) Rove Beetle Royal Penguin Rubber Boa Ruby-Crowned Kinglet Ruby-Throated Hummingbird Ruddy Duck Ruddy Turnstone Rufous Hummingbird Russel’s Viper Russell Terrier Russian Bear Dog Russian Blue Russian Tortoise
Saanen Goat Saarloos Wolfdog Saber-Toothed Tiger Sable Sable Black German Shepherd Sable Ferret Sable German Shepherd Saddleback Caterpillar Saiga Sailfish Saint Berdoodle Saint Bernard Saint Shepherd Salamander Salmon Salmon Shark Saluki Sambar Samoyed San Francisco Garter Snake Sand Cat Sand Crab Sand Dollar Sand Lizard Sand Tiger Shark Sand Viper Sandhill Crane Sandpiper Sandworm Saola Sapsali Sarcosuchus Sardines Sarkastodon Sarplaninac Sarus Crane Satanic Leaf-Tailed Gecko Saturniidae Moth Sauropoda Sauropoda Savanna Goat Savannah Monitor Savannah Sparrow Savu Python Saw-scaled Viper Sawfish Scale-Crested Pygmy Tyrant Scaleless Ball Python Scallops Scarab Beetle Scarlet Kingsnake Scarlet Macaw Scarlet Tanager Schapendoes Schipperke Schneagle Schnoodle Scimitar-horned Oryx Scissor-tailed Flycatcher Scorpion Scorpion Fish Scotch Collie Scottish Deerhound Scottish Fold Cat Scottish Terrier Scrotum Frog Sculpin Scutosaurus Sea Anemone Sea Bass Sea Dragon Sea Eagle Sea Lion Sea Otter Sea Roach Sea Slug Sea Snake Sea Spider Sea Squirt Sea Trout Sea Turtle Sea Urchin Seagull Seahorse Seal Sealyham Terrier Sedge Warbler Sehuencas Water Frog Sei Whale Senegal Parrot Senepol Cattle Sequined Spider Serval Seymouria Shantungosaurus Shark Sharp-Shinned Hawk Sharp-Tailed Snake Shastasaurus Sheep Sheepadoodle Sheepshead Fish Shepadoodle Shepkita Shepweiler Shetland Sheepdog Shiba Inu Shiba Inu Mix Shichi Shih Poo Shih Tzu Shih Tzu Mix Shikoku Shiloh Shepherd Shiranian Shoebill Stork Shollie Short-Eared Owl Short-Faced Bear Shortfin Mako Shark Shrew Shrimp Siamese Siberian Siberian Husky Siberian Ibex Siberian Retriever Siberian Tiger Siberpoo Sichuan Takin (Tibetan Takin) Sidewinder Sika Deer Silken Windhound Silkie Chicken Silky Shark Silky Terrier Silver Dollar Silver Labrador Simbakubwa Sinosauropteryx Sivatherium Six-Eyed Sand Spiders Sixgill shark Skate Fish Skeleton Tarantula Skink Lizard Skipjack Tuna Skua Skunk Skye Terrier Sleeper Shark Sloth Slovak Cuvac Slow Worm Slug Smallmouth Bass Smilosuchus Smokybrown Cockroach Smooth Earth Snake Smooth Fox Terrier Smooth Green Snake Smooth Hammerhead Shark Smooth Snake Snail Snailfish Snake Snapping Turtle Snook Fish Snorkie Snouted Cobra Snow Bunting Snow Crab Snow Goose Snow Leopard Snowberry Clearwing Moth Snowflake Eel Snowshoe Snowshoe Hare Snowy Owl Sockeye Salmon Soldier Beetle Somali Song Sparrow Song Thrush South China Tiger Southeastern Blueberry Bee Southern Black Racer Southern Flannel Moth Southern Hognose Snake Southern House Spider Southern Pacific Rattlesnake Spadefoot Toad Spanador Spanish Goat Spanish Mackerel Spanish Mastiff Spanish Water Dog Sparrow Sparrowhawk Speckled Kingsnake Speckled Trout Spectacled Bear Sperm Whale Sphynx Spider Spider Ball Python Spider Beetle Spider Monkey Spider Wasp Spider-Tailed Horned Viper Spinner Shark Spinone Italiano Spinosaurus Spiny bush viper Spiny Dogfish Spiny Hill Turtle Spitting Cobra Spixs Macaw Sponge Spongy Moth Spongy Moth Spotted Bass Spotted Gar Spotted Garden Eel Spotted Lanternfly Spotted python Spotted Skunk Springador Springbok Springerdoodle Squash Bee Squash Beetle Squid Squirrel Squirrel Monkey Squirrelfish Sri Lankan Elephant Stabyhoun Staffordshire Bull Terrier Stag Beetle Standard Schnauzer Star-nosed mole Starfish Stargazer Fish Steelhead Salmon Steller’s Sea Cow Stick Insect Stiletto Snake Stingray Stoat Stone Crab Stonechat Stonefish Stoplight Loosejaw Stork Strawberry Hermit Crab Striped Bass Striped Hyena Striped Rocket Frog Stromatolite Stupendemys Sturgeon Styracosaurus Suchomimus Suckerfish Sugar Glider Sulcata Tortoise Sultan Chicken Sumatran Elephant Sumatran Orangutan Sumatran Rhinoceros Sumatran Tiger Summer Tanager Sun Bear Sunbeam Snake Sunset Ball Python Super Pastel Ball Python Supersaurus Superworm Surgeonfish Sussex Chicken Swai Fish Swainson’s Hawk Swallow Swallowtail Butterfly Swallowtail Caterpillar Swan Swedish Elkhound Swedish Lapphund Swedish Vallhund Swordfish Syrian Hamster
Taco Terrier Tailless Whip Scorpion Taimen Fish Taipan Takin Tamarin Tamaskan Tang Tangerine Leopard Gecko Tapanuli Orangutan Tapir Tarantula Tarantula Hawk Tarbosaurus Tarpon Tarsier Tasmanian Devil Tasmanian Tiger Tasmanian Tiger Snake Tawny Frogmouth Tawny Mining Bee Tawny Owl Teacup Chihuahua Teacup Maltese Teacup Miniature Horse Teacup Poodle Teddy Bear Hamster Teddy Guinea Pig Teddy Roosevelt Terrier Telescope Fish Ten-Lined June Beetle Tennessee Walking Horse Tenrec Tent Caterpillar Tentacled Snake Tenterfield Terrier Termite Terrier Terror Bird Tetra Texas Blind Snake Texas Brown Tarantula Texas Coral Snake Texas Garter Snake Texas Heeler Texas Indigo Snake Texas Night Snake Texas Rat Snake Texas Spiny Lizard Thai Ridgeback Thalassomedon Thanatosdrakon Therizinosaurus Theropod Thornback Ray Thorny Devil Thresher Shark Thrush Thylacoleo Thylacoleo carnifex Thylacosmilus Tibetan Fox Tibetan Mastiff Tibetan Spaniel Tibetan Terrier Tick Tiffany Tiger Tiger Beetle Tiger Moth Tiger Muskellunge (Muskie) Tiger Rattlesnake Tiger Salamander Tiger Shark Tiger snake Tiger Swallowtail Tiger Swallowtail Caterpillar Tiger Trout Tiktaalik Timber Rattlesnake (Canebrake Rattlesnake) Timor python Tire Track Eel Titan Beetle Titanoboa Titanosaur Toadfish Tokay Gecko Tomato Hornworm Torkie Tornjak Tortoise Tosa Toucan Towhee Toxodon Toy Fox Terrier Toy Poodle Transylvanian Hound Trapdoor spider Tree Cricket Tree Frog Tree Kangaroo Tree Snake Tree swallow Tree Viper (Bamboo Viper) Treecreeper Treehopper Treeing Tennessee Brindle Treeing Walker Coonhound Triggerfish Troodon Tropicbird Trout Tsetse Fly Tuatara Tufted Coquette Tufted Titmouse Tully Monster Tuna Tundra Swan Turaco Turkey Turkey Vulture Turkish Angora Turnspit Turtle Frog Turtles Tusoteuthis Tussock Moth Tussock Moth Caterpillar Twig Snake Tylosaurus Tyrannosaurus Rex
Uakari Uaru Cichlid Uguisu Uinta Ground Squirrel Uintatherium Umbrellabird Unau (Linnaeus’s Two-Toed Sloth) Underwing Moth Upland Sandpiper Ural owl Urechis unicinctus (Penis Fish) Urial Uromastyx (Spiny-Tailed Lizard) Urutu Snake Utonagan
Valley Bulldog Vampire Bat Vampire Crab Vampire Squid Vaquita Veery Vegavis Velociraptor Venus Flytrap Vermilion Flycatcher Vervet Monkey Vestal Cuckoo Bumblebee Vicuña Vine Snake Vinegaroon Viper Viper Boa Viper Shark (dogfish) Viperfish Virgin Islands Dwarf Gecko Vizsla Volcano Snail Vole Volpino Italiano Vulture
Wahoo Fish Waimanu Walking Catfish Wallaby Walleye Fish Walrus Wandering Albatross Warbler Warthog Wasp Water Beetle Water Buffalo Water Bug Water Dragon Water Vole Waterbuck Wattled Jacana Wax Moth Weasel Weaver Bird Weimaraner Weimardoodle Wels Catfish Welsh Black Cattle Welsh Corgi Welsh Springer Spaniel Welsh Terrier West Highland Terrier West Siberian Laika Western Blacklegged Tick Western Blind Snake Western Diamondback Rattlesnake Western Gorilla Western Green Mamba Western Hognose Snake Western Kingbird Western Lowland Gorilla Western Rat Snake Western Rattlesnake (Northern Pacific Rattlesnake) Western Tanager Westiepoo Whale Shark Wheaten Terrier Whimbrel Whinchat Whippet Whiptail Lizard White Bass White Butterfly White Catfish White Crappie White Ferret / Albino Ferrets White German Shepherd White Marlin White Rhinoceros White Shark White Sturgeon White Tiger White-Crowned Sparrow White-Eyed Vireo White-Faced Capuchin White-shouldered House Moth White-tail deer White-Tailed Eagle Whitetail Deer Whiting Whoodle Whooping Crane Wild Boar Wildebeest Willow Flycatcher Willow Warbler Winter Moth Wire Fox Terrier Wirehaired Pointing Griffon Wirehaired Vizsla Wiwaxia Wolf Wolf Eel Wolf Snake Wolf Spider Wolffish Wolverine Woma Python Wombat Wood Bison Wood Duck Wood Frog Wood Tick Wood Turtle Woodlouse Woodlouse Spider Woodpecker Woodrat Wool Carder Bee Woolly Aphids Woolly Bear Caterpillar Woolly Mammoth Woolly Monkey Woolly Rhinoceros Worm Worm Snake Wrasse Writing Spider Wrought Iron Butterflyfish Wryneck Wyandotte Chicken Wyoming Toad
X-Ray Tetra Xeme (Sabine’s Gull) Xenacanthus Xenoceratops Xenoposeidon Xenotarsosaurus Xerus Xiaosaurus Xiaotingia Xingu River Ray Xiongguanlong Xiphactinus Xoloitzcuintli
Yabby Yak Yakutian Laika Yarara Yellow Anaconda Yellow Aphids Yellow Bass Yellow Bellied Sapsucker Yellow Belly Ball Python Yellow Bullhead Catfish Yellow Cobra Yellow Crazy Ant Yellow Perch Yellow Sac Spider Yellow Spotted Lizard Yellow Tanager (Black-and-Yellow Tanager) Yellow Tang Yellow-Bellied Sea Snake Yellow-Eyed Penguin Yellow-faced Bee Yellowfin Tuna Yellowhammer Yellowish Cuckoo Bumblebee (formerly Fernald’s Cuckoo Bumblebee) Yellowjacket (Yellow Jacket) Yellowtail Snapper Yellowthroat Yeti Crab Yokohama Chicken Yoranian Yorkie Bichon Yorkiepoo Yorkshire Terrier
Zebra Zebra Finch Zebra Mussels Zebra Pleco Zebra Shark Zebra Snake Zebra Spitting Cobra Zebra Tarantula Zebrafish (Zebra Fish) Zebu Zokor Zonkey Zorse Zuchon

All of you guys and gals rock. I came one here talking about my childhood friend (6th grade till high school and we both enlisted together) who was killed in action September 25, 2005.
His CH-47 was shotdown 2 miles from base and total of 5 souls lost in this tragedy.
Sgt Ken Ross was my brother and I continue to live my life the best way I can. During my wedding his father stepped in as my best man and continue to have a relationship with his father to this day.
SPC Kelly got with me and exchanged stories of him up to his death and provided pictures of the services. As Ken was a brother to me he was a son to my parents. My father has been filled with guilt (he made a career in the Army of 22 years 17 of those in SF) urging him that the Army was the best option and could lead to something better and doing lectures with high school students to do the same. Since Kens death he has stopped and has always felt guilty.
Looking at the pictures as a family we all sat back and cried and told long forgotten stories of Ken and I. From boy scouts and hiking the grand canyon rim to rim after high school.
Ken feel in love with helicopters around freshman year on a boy scout outing. His father purchased him a wooden box to keep toiletries in. When I say box it was square with sharp corners, and one night he was running with said box and tripped and fell over a tree root. When he fell the corner of the box punctured his spleen. Adults called 911 and a helicopter came and transported him to the hospital for emergency surgery. From that point he was hooked and that's all he wanted to do.
From one of our last conversations he wanted to put in his WO packet to fly, sadly that never came through.
Again thank you all!
Peace, Love, and Helicopters -Sgt Kenneth Ross
LETS HEAR IT FOR MUSTANG 22!!!

Wood creaked softly, and the wind sang in the sails of the Maiden’s Curse.
The three-masted frigate rocked through gentle swells off the coast of a small, uncharted island thick with trees and sandy beaches. Gulls cried and wheeled. The air was warm on his skin, and tasted of the sea. It was a good day, as days went. Good to take a prize.
Yet, Captain Gregious was troubled.
He sat alone in his cabin, frowning at a strange object perched on a gilded stand atop his desk. It was black and iridescent, warm to the touch, and burnished with scarlet swirls that rippled in the dim light of his oil lamp. Any other fool would think it was some kind of marble sculpture, a piece of porcelain, a priceless work of art crafted by some long-dead, faceless artist who’d lived and died in a kingdom whose structures had long since turned to dust. But Gregious was a learned man. He’d studied at the naval academy before unfortunate circumstances had forced him into a life of piracy, and he knew the truth. This was no creation of man. This was the rarest of things: a dragon’s egg. And it was on his ship.
This troubled him.
I should just toss the damn thing over and be done. His frown deepened because he knew he couldn’t. His crew would not understand or believe him if he tried to explain. They would only see an object worth a mountain of gold and their halfwit captain trying to toss it to the deep. They would mutiny, and his head would decorate the bowsprit without so much as a trial. No, that would never do. He planned to live for a very, very long time. He had to get rid of it, but in a way that kept his head atop his shoulders. But how?
He drummed the first finger of his right hand on his desk, resting his chin in the crook made by the thumb and forefinger of his left, brooding and morose. What to do? He couldn’t keep it, that was certain. Who’d ever heard of a Pirate Captain keeping a dragon as a pet? They were far too dangerous. Even a hatchling possessed enough power to rend his ship into kindling and send them down to old Davy with their sails aflame. If you believed the stories.
And Captain Gregious believed.
Dragons were evil by nature, unpredictable and cruel, solitary creatures given to hoarding treasure enough to make all the world's greedy kings sick with envy. And guess where they got their gold? Besides, when it hatched, whoever happened to be near would become the dragon’s first meal. That certainly wouldn’t be Gregious.
He stopped drumming his finger and sat forward, a grin slowly spreading across his face as an idea took root. Perhaps he could rid himself of two problems at once. And solve a third that had begun to plague him.
“Caerl,” he shouted for the ship’s quartermaster. “Get in here.”
A moment later, the door to his cabin, which doubled as his quarters, opened, and a tall man in clothes that had seen better days stepped through. “Cap’n?”
“Close the door. Where’s Gradie?”
“Sir?”
“Gradie, damn it, the one keeps falling asleep at the watch.” He should have killed the man outright for falling asleep at his watch, but Gregious was feeling generous that day.
“Oh, him,” Caerl tucked his thumbs behind his belt and rocked back on bare, filth-stained feet. “Got’em down at the bottom. Swabbing out the pens.” He grinned at that, treating Gregious to his crooked, stained teeth. A few gaps showed where some were missing.
“Bring him up,” Gregious said. “And bring yourself and another witness. I have a task for you.”
The smile dropped from Caerl’s face, but he moved to obey. Gregious would need to arrange an accident for his overly ambitious quartermaster. The man was a snake with an eye for the captain’s seat. He’d have already done it if the crew didn’t have such a strong love for the man.
The door opened, and Gregious tucked the thought away for another time.
Caerl shoved a wiry man with shaggy brown hair and matching beard through the door. A third man followed, bald and weathered with a long black beard.
“Here he is, cap’n.”
Gradie wrung his hands and glanced around the cabin like a mouse caught in a wolf’s den.
Gregious put on a warm smile.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing at the chair on the other side of his desk. “Whiskey?”
Gregious reached for a cut crystal decanter, part of a prize taken last year, and poured four glasses of the good stuff. He slid one across his desk to Gradie and motioned for the other two men to take theirs. He leaned back and lifted his glass to his lips, watching Gradie over the rim.
“I have a way for you to pay your debt to the crew in full and earn back your good standing,” Gregious said, sipping his whiskey and watching the man’s reaction.
Gradie’s eyes widened, and he glanced at everyone in the room, fiddling with one of many stains on his tattered shirt. “I…cap’n,” Gradie stopped and swallowed hard. “Whatever ye need, cap’n. I’m yer man.” He reached for his whiskey, hand shaking.
Gregious watched desperation turn to hope in Gradie’s eyes. Then they hardened with suspicion.
Gregious affected a reassuring manner. “Caerl, have the crew take us to skiff range and weigh anchor at our beach. You three will be putting to shore.”
Caerl exchanged a glance with James, the third man. “Cap’n?” He drained his glass in one shot and set it on the desk. “Yer sending us to shore? Where we keep—“ he cut off and appeared to try to think of another way to put his thoughts. “You know…the gold?”
“That’s right, Caerl,” Gregious said, pouring more whiskey. “You will take swords and muskets, powder and rounds. Wasn’t it you who said we needed to guard our gold? What better way for Gradie here to earn back his standing and for you to make sure he doesn’t make any mischief.”
“But cap’n—“
“Surely you’re not afraid of a little shore time?” Gregious cut him off with a good-natured chuckle. “It’s an uncharted island in the middle of the ocean, hundreds of miles from any semblance of civilization. More importantly, it is our island. Should he conduct himself with honor while we are chasing our next prize, this will show he is reformed and worthy to rejoin the crew. A good plan, yes?”
Caerl considered the captain’s words. It looked painful. He glanced at James, who shrugged and nodded.
“Good plan, Captain,” James offered.
“Aye, cap’n, a good plan,” Caerl said, nodding slowly, still suspicious. “Alright, Gradie, on yer feet. It’s to the shore with you.” He hauled Gradie to his feet and started for the door.
“Oh, and Caerl,” Gregious said, lifting a hand. “Would you be so kind as to have him keep a special eye on this?” He nodded at the dragon egg. “Keep it with him at all times. Nothing can happen to the egg. It is worth more than you know.”
Caerl’s eyes flicked to the egg, then back to Gregious. “That? Just a fancy bit o’ painted plaster, ain’t it?”
“It's much more than that, my friend. I need to confirm with a contact back at Masseau, but I believe it is worth enough gold to fill our hold to bursting. But we must keep it safe until I return. Will you do this for me?”
Caerl puffed out his chest proudly. “Aye, cap’n.” He fastened a threatening glare on Gradie. “You heared the cap’n. Get it, and let’s go. He’ll do as he’s told, cap’n. I’ll make sure of it.”
Gregious smiled. “I have no doubt, Caerl.”
The door closed behind them, and Gregious lounged back in his chair.
He wished he could be there to see when the dragon came. Gregious laughed and poured another whiskey. He would have to find another quartermaster, of course. One he could dangle from his strings. And he had just the fool in mind. Gregious stood and walked to his balcony door.
He sighed, sipped his whiskey and gazed out across the sparkling water. Things were coming together. Such a good day. His problems would soon be solved, his gold would be protected by an unlikely ally and he would be the richest and deadliest pirate captain on the high seas.
A sinister smile curled on his lips. He would need to bring the dragon more offerings, of course and more gold. That wouldn’t be a problem. Merchant galleons plump with riches were ripe for the taking.
He laughed again, running a hand down his oiled beard. He knew just how to turn this dragon into an ally and how to control it. He glanced over his shoulder at a bookshelf stuffed with volumes. He still had the text.
What was it he’d said earlier? Oh yes. Who’d ever heard of a Pirate Captain keeping a dragon as a pet?
He laughed again. Who indeed.

I want to offer up some tricks in hopes other pros add to this thread and we can all learn from each other.
Night for Day
RED Komodo X Sony CineAlta II Primes 35mm T3.2 5000K +2 ISO 800
ARRI M18 Aputure T4C 12x12 Silk 4x4 250 Diffusion 4x4 Ultrabounce Floppy
Time of Day: 1:30AM
The idea here was simple: we lost our sunlight half a day earlier and had to make up this scene later. The window on the right had a beautiful tree next to it that we used to our advantage, raking a naked M18 across it and ultimately raking across our hero table. We built a 12x12 silk outside the left window to blow it out and positioned a second M18 accordingly.
Inside, it was a series of Aputure T4C tubes to fill in as necessary whether bounced or direct, retaining the contrast we needed to keep this wide believable.
Night for Night
Sony A7S I - Odyssey 7Q Metabones Rokinon Cine Lenses 50mm T2.2 5000K ISO 12,800
Cineo Maverick Candle (practical)
Time of Day: 2:30AM**
This one changed how we thought about capturing light. We wanted to utilize the Alpha 7's low light capabilities to the extreme, but realized the camera was too extreme for us, amongst other things.
First, when you're hellbent on seeing 10 miles into the distance in the dead of night, your ratios change dramatically. A campfire needs to become a candle, reflections in glasses need to be campfire videos ripped from YouTube and played back on an LCD screen that's ND'd way down, the actual moon moves too fast across the sky for continuity and you'll have to wait for passing satellites because you'll see them.
Our "moonlight" was a Cineo Maverick on battery power, gelled blue and dimmed to 2 percent.There was a lot of de-noising done in post, and our 4K 4:2:0 footage recorded on the Odyssey was downsampled to 2K 4:4:4.
Time of Year Changes
ARRI Alexa Mini Cooke 18-100mm Varitol 27mm T3.1 4500K ISO 800
ARRI M18 Aputure 600D 12x12 Silent Grid 4x4 Ultrabounce Flop
Time of Day: 11:00AM
It's hard to make LA look like wintertime, especially in June, and moreso when doing exteriors. We had to soften the real sun in the cloudless sky, then build up our own controllable sunlight and its corresponding, believable bounce.
We rigged up as 12x12 Silent Grid for the real sun and supplemented with an M18 as a rim and bounced an Aputure 600C into a 4x4 Ultrabounce as our key, softening further with 250 as needed.
Day for Dawn
ARRI Alexa 35 ARRI Alura 18-80mm T2.6 57.5mm T3.4 4300K -1 ISO 320
Aputure 1200D 12x12 Hi-Lite 4x4 Floppy
Time of Day: 10:30AM
This one presented a bunch of challenges. All of these track shots were supposed to look like it was just before dawn, and our day started after the sun already rose.
We started off with the Aputure 1200D with some gel on it, just off camera, giving a nice golden rim and at times pinging the lens to replicate sunlight just peeking through the trees of our "East," which in reality was due West. The sun was already up by the time we got going, so we opted for a 12x12 Hi-Lite overhead to soften the real sun, but leave us with some harsher light breaking through, to accentuate our athlete's shoulders and hair. After the grade, I think it turned out really well.
Greenscreen
RED Dragon Canon EF 24-105 32mm F4.5 5000K ISO 800
ARRI 1200W HMI 4K Spacelights 4x4 Floppy
Time of Day: 10:30AM
As often as you can, properly expose when on a greenscreen stage, and by that I mean mind your histogram and don't clip in either direction. Post can do nearly anything if you give them this baseline, and be sure your backdrop is lit as evenly as you can, is a color vastly different than your practical elements and talent, and avoid as much spill as you can by separating your subject as far from the walls as you can and even put duvetyne below them to reduce spill.
LED Volume
RED Komodo Tokina Cine Primes 35mm T2.0 4300K ISO 800
Roe Visuals Ruby LED
Time of Day: 4:30PM
Volumetric is a tricky thing, and not all walls are created equal. This sequence was tough -- make an actor look like they were aimlessly floating in space -- but we came up with a cool set of things to achieve this look.
First, we ripped the back off a cheap swivel chair, weighed it down with some ballbusters and plopped our talent in it to spin themselves. Second, we had our camera on a Dana Dolly for a dolly in and we ran a series for performance, focus and pacing. Third -- to sell the "weightless" look, we had our actor extend their arms and move them freely, but shot at 48fps. You've got to be careful with making sure the LED wall is never in focus; you can see the diodes if you're anywhere near the limits of your circle of confusion. This proved a challenge for some of our wides with multiple talent and a brighter environment, namely because this volume was only about 20x30 and we had limited space for blocking. When in doubt, run a camera test and have everyone on as large a monitor as your production can afford watch playback with scrutiny.
What can anyone else add?

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I’ve gone back and corrected the previous part where Mears mysteriously came back from the dead and replaced him with Hall, who was there all along but had an identity crisis (caused by me using an out of date character sheet after losing my phone with lots of my notes on it!).
Anyway, today is my birthday so I am especially happy to present to you part 22 and wish you all a great day! :)
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Y’Lek glided along the tunnels under the Tree; it may have been a relatively new transplant into the Far Flung Seed but he knew the twists and turns almost instinctively and gently nudged himself down a branching path almost without thinking about it. K’Rim followed him with a more wary stance, constantly scanning the passages they shot through and past.
From the armoury they had entered the arboretum and one of the numerous burrows under the branching roots of the Tree. It was a longer route than that taken by N’Dar and presumably the aliens if they had continued to follow Y’Lek’s directions, but they were making good time and it was unlikely any agents of the Swarm had managed to rig these tunnels with boobytraps. At least that was what Y’Lek was fervently hoping to himself as he shot past another side tunnel.
There was a sudden series of reports ahead - one characteristic of the particle lances missing from the armoury and another more solid “boom” of the aliens weapon. Y’Lek twisted his head slightly to better look at K’Rim over his shoulder.
K’Rim gestured at him impatiently while kicking off harder from the wall of the passage to speed her rate of travel “Yes, the aliens are still fighting but we can’t assume they have reached N’Dar - we must hurry more than ever!”
Y’Lek turned his attention more fully to his own course and used a helpfully protruding root nodule to pull himself along faster.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
N’Dar’s mandibles grated together anxiously as he ran yet another sequence of biometric signal patterns past the door lock and clicked in frustration as the door stubbornly remained securely shut. He was used to the pressure of living concealed amongst the degenerates but he had never expected to be here; who knew how far away from the Swarm, on a ship which could somehow bend space to its whim in ways that he didn’t understand and hunted by aliens that had torn through a claw of warrior operatives. He almost felt dizzy as his hearts raced to keep up with his body’s demand for oxygen. Not that it was likely to matter for too much longer; he had been living in his suit whenever he was “off duty”, ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself and he’d already drawn down the on board oxygen supplies when they’d forced the ship to crash back into real space and barely had an hour of breathable air left.
Perhaps even more pressing than his longer term survival, or even the alien hunters who might burst into the chamber at any moment was the remote detonator nestled in the webbing of his suit that his attention kept being inextricably drawn to.
He forced himself to pay attention again as he programmed in the next set of biometric signals to try. “Come on. Come on.” he mumbled to himself and sent a pulse of energy through the circuits. He almost cracked the chitin of his jaw as the device reported another failed attempt.
A movement in his peripheral vision dragged his attention back to the tunnels. He let go of the signal cracker which floated in place and spun himself to face the four aliens who emerged into the chamber and spread themselves out along the far wall. He held the remote detonator in one grasper and it was all he could do to stop himself vibrating with hatred as he stared down the barrels of their strange weapons.
“Stop, you D’Rexa dung eating freaks! Don’t come any closer or I will destroy it all!” he brandished the detonator towards them.
Somewhat shocked he watched as they slowed and then stopped their advance, although they continued to point their weapons at him.
Some kind of low booming noise emanated from one of them but N’Dar couldn't tell which one. Were they trying to SPEAK with him? One of the People?! The nictitating membrane of his right eye started to twitch and his breathing, already fast and unsteady became ragged as his disgust warred with the strongest sense of outrage he had felt in his entire life.
“SILENCE!” he hissed “You DARE make your filthy noises at ME?! I am in control here and you will do as I say!”
The aliens seemed to stay perfectly still for a moment before one of them took one of its graspers off its weapon and held it up in the air, the thick sub-graspers spread out wide - although N’Dar noted that the weapon remained aimed absolutely unwaveringly at his head.
The low booming noise started up again but N’Dar cut across it, thrusting the detonator towards the one with its grasper raised and waving it urgently.
“NO! I said SILENCE!”
The booming noises cut off, seemingly in mid-flow.
“Good!” N’Dar said almost to himself, preening as the alien obviously recognised his clearly superior authority and followed his instruction.
N’Dar thought for a moment before he continued issuing his instructions.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Stroud stood, his left hand raised as the clearly pissed off alien in front of him continued to click, clack and hiss at him like some kind of demented steam powered typewriter.
“Any idea what this fucker is saying?” asked Hall, from his left, over their communication link.
Stroud sighed “No fucking idea - the last update from the translator is only getting a partial on a couple of words. Shit, I don’t even know if this is one of the bad guys or just some ET in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What’s that thing it is holding?” Smithy asked.
Stroud sighed again “Seriously lads, can we stop with the stupid fucking questions? How the fuck am I supposed to know? It probably isn’t a gun or I guess it would have tried to shoot us, but maybe it is. Maybe it’s the keys to the Millenium-bloody-Falcon? Either way it seems to think that we should be taking it seriously and doesn’t like it when I try and talk to it - so how about we just keep nice and quiet and don’t make any sudden movements, eh?”
Jackson piped up from his position on the far right of the fireteam “It looks like it was doing something to the bulkhead behind it - there is something floating between ET and the wall that looks kind of like a laptop or tablet.”
“Yeah, but is that something that it should be doing, or something that an enemy is doing?”
“Seriously - what did I just say about stupid questions?” cut in Stroud irritably.
In front of them and entirely unaware of their private conversation the ET was still rattling away and waving whatever that thing it was holding around.
Stroud looked at the map displayed in his HUD and compared his team’s position to where the suspected position of the enemy ET’s goal was. It matched pretty well, although not exactly. It was also wearing one of those horrendous purple space suits like the ET’s outside had been, but that wasn’t necessarily an indication of anything - after all it was probably their standard space suit, worn by both loyalists and mutineers alike. He really didn’t want to start an interstellar war by executing some poor bastard who, while even across species boundaries, was obviously pretty agitated but not making any overtly threatening gestures. Other than waving… whatever it was around anyway.
There was a blur through the air and suddenly the ET was sporting a metre long metallic spear sticking out of the join between its thorax and the arm holding the device.
Stroud threw himself to the deck and keyed up the tracking data to try and figure out where the spear came from.
“Contact right!” called Jackson. The spear had shot right past him. He turned only to have a massive black shape swim across the ceiling above him and fling itself at the ET in purple, wrestling the device from the limp grasper before ramming a spike tipped claw limb through the transparent eye-covering and into the brain beneath.
With another deft set of movements the alien dismantled the device it had snatched and scattered the pieces. With one of its lower legs it hooked itself to the floor and grabbed the twitching corpse of the purple clad alien to stop it floating off.
Almost before anyone could react another black clad alien emerged into the chamber, this one slightly smaller than the alien in front of them, but still bigger than the purple one.
It clacked at them, the translation flashing up across their HUD’s.
“No fight!”
First
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I don’t know if this is “scary” enough… but it lowkey traumatized me!
It happened when I was 22.
I was working in a remote ski town for the summer. Because it was Covid it wasn’t as busy as usual. It was a slow summer, mostly full of hikers and different nature enthusiasts. I worked at a hotel that was in the middle of some of the most beautiful mountains in the world.
That summer I had got really interested in hiking and me and some of the girls I worked with would often go on really big hikes or climb mountains on our off days. By the end of the season, we all felt like hiking and mountaineering experts. It was so fun and we had met so many people on the trail. In hiking, there’s this thing called “trail magic” — it’s when really beautiful and almost impossible things happen on the trail. Me and the girls that I hiked with had felt We’d experienced trail magic. It really opened me up to meeting different hikers. I felt really safe and comfortable on the trail.
Anyways, the season was nearing an end. So one day, I decided to solo hike a nearby mountain before my shift that had been on my list. My shift started at three our four PM, and the hotel I worked at was very close to the trail entrance, so I knew that with my experience, I would have no problem summiting this mountain and getting back with time to spare before my shift.
I left early in the morning and the first hour or two of my hike was so beautiful. I just remember feeling super safe and confident. I was so proud of myself that I became such a strong hiker over the course of the season.
On the trail, there were not many people . As I said it was Covid and hiking season was nearing an end. There were some tourists who went to one of the lookouts on the trail, but I was alone above treeline. This didn’t scare me because as I said, I had gained a lot of confidence in my abilities, and I knew which safety precautions to take when I was on the trail.
Then I began to reach the summit, I could see it, there was a bit of a scramble to the top. And as I looked up, at the summit, I saw an older man slowly ascending towards the summit. The older man began to wave at me and shout things out to me. He was wearing hiking gear and honestly just looked like a thin older Caucasian man who was a seasoned hiker. Sort of had a hippie vibe. He was shouting words of encouragement to me, “you can do this. You’re so close!”
I politely laughed and waved back at him. Initially, I saw no red flags. Plus, we were at a good distance from each other. But then I noticed that he was stopping almost as if he was waiting for me. I chalked this up to nothing more than an older man who needed to take breaks. To summit a mountain is hard work and he was older. But he kept taking breaks, many breaks, and since I was in a rush, I was going pretty fast. In no time, we reached the same point and it was essentially like if we were hiking together.
Suddenly, the old man had no issue keeping up with me. he wanted to talk and get to know me. I had met a lot of different people on the trails, but he struck me as a little odd. He asked me my age, where I worked, etc.
When he asked me where I worked, I told him that I worked in hospitality. He really didn’t like that answer. He replied, “no shit. Where?” And then I lied and gave him a different hotel name than the one I actually worked at. The old man continued to talk about himself as well as ask intrusive questions to me. though I was sort of alarmed, I still saw him as an old man who was relatively harmless. I really didn’t want to get myself worked up, because in this moment, I was on the top of a mountain, without any cell service, I was exhausted from the ascent, and I was completely alone with this man.
Once we reach the summit, this was when I first told him goodbye. I said it was nice to meet you. “It was nice to meet you, I’m going to eat my lunch alone now and then get back for work.” I felt that I had very clearly set the boundary. I am not afraid of confrontation, and I don’t mind speaking my needs. The old man walked away and admired the views. I felt safe again because he had respected my boundary. But then he came back. He said that he was an expert hiker. He told me he could tell that I was very serious about hiking, and I wouldn’t want to miss the view over on the ridge. reluctantly, I agreed to go to the ridge with him. We stood together on the rim of this mountain top. I felt scared like he was trying to push my boundaries to see how pliable they were. After a moment or two and a few photos on the ridge/edge, I said goodbye again. To be honest, I didn’t think the ridge had a very special view so I didn’t understand why he wanted me to go over there with him. Even though I didn’t have service, at this time I began to send texts to my father. He is very responsive and I knew that as soon as I had service, these texts would send. I told my dad where I was, and I mentioned that there was a somewhat strange older man.
The old man came up to me again, asking me more questions about myself. This was when I firmly told him goodbye. I said, “I am going to practice trail running” and then begin running down the mountain. The truth is, I’m not an experienced trail runner. And running down a trail is actually quite dangerous. But I felt I had to do something to get away from this man. I really did not like his energy and the way he wasn’t listening when I said BYE.
I began to run down the trail and to my shock and horror, the man was running behind me, and he was very fast. He looked like a skilled trail runner. This caused chills up my spine. When I looked behind me, the old man had his eyes fixated on me and this cocky freaky smile. Almost like he was revealing that he had been fooling me like he was some old helpless man. I was terrified.
He also was starting to get cocky and was saying things like he is actually an incredible hiker, he could do this in his sleep and he’s incredibly experienced in outdoor survival. He talked about how nothing scares him and that he’s even been able to fight off bears and cougars. He also said that he believes a storm is coming and that if it rains or begins to storm, I should stick with him because it will be my only chance at survival. (Like, no thanks buddy!)
Every possible alarm bell was ringing in my head. I became incredibly tense. He already had me alone, in an isolated area, without cell service. He was sticking to me like glue. And he was trying to get me to go even further with him.
At one point, the trail diverged into two paths when he went right I decided to go left. But once again to my horror, the paths connected again. He laughed in my face and even made a joke about how I couldn’t escape him.
This is when my survival instincts really kicked in. I was not gonna let this man hurt me. I began trying to appease his cockiness. I was asking him tons of questions about trails and survival and just anything I could talk to him about that kept him happy. He seemed somewhat annoyed by my questions. But also he couldn’t help but answer them. I didn’t want it to be silent, and I didn’t want the conversation to divulge into anything that made me even more uncomfortable. I tried to stay in control by directing the conversation.
at one point, he took his hand and fiddled with the bear spray in the side of my hiking pack. I had been very aware that this was one of the only weapons I had to defend myself against him if things got physical.
I pulled away from him so he could not grab my bear spray, and as I did, he laughed and asked me if I had ever sprayed it before. Truthfully I had not. But obviously, I lied and told him I had. I told him that the hotel I worked at had a lot of expired bear spray cans and that we sprayed them as practice. I told him I wasn’t afraid to use it and I left my hand on it.
At this point, he was telling me how much he was enjoying hiking with me. I was quiet. He told me how much he didn’t like his wife and how she was inactive. I hated that he thought it was OK to shit-talk his wife to me. He told me that everyone called him Norm 69, and that I could call him this too. I literally felt sick.
That’s when I felt a glimpse of hope that I could get out of the situation. 100 m ahead of us was a group of older hikers. I began to hike to them quickly, trying to get the lead.
my plan was to tell them that I felt unsafe and that I wanted to stay with them. But the old man, Norm?, ran ahead of me and got to them first. This fucking guy was relentless. As we approach the group of hikers, the old man began to speak to them in the most friendly hiker way. The group of hikers got no red flags from him and responded to him very nicely. My heart was beating out of my chest. I didn’t know what to do in this situation. As the old man was talking to the group he, he made it seem if we’re together. He was saying stuff like, “ today’s hike has just been absolutely beautiful for us. We couldn’t have expected anything better.”
We? Who the fuck is we? I have been trying to escape your presence for the past hour. And I only just met you. Also, weren’t you trying to tell me that it was going to be a storm? Now you are suddenly believing that the weather is beautiful? Nothing he said added up to me.
The group of hikers continued on towards the summit. And I was alone with the old man again. I’m gonna call him “Norm” from now on. At this point, I was sure that this man wanted something from me (probably sexually). I checked my phone and I still didn’t have service, but I could tell I was getting closer to having service because the phone signal said EXT. I remembered on my way up that I had phone service until the tree line. Norm took his shirt off and was beginning to get antsy. It seemed like he was desperate now at any attempt to try to stay with me. I think it was because he knew that as we went further down the trail, it was going to get busier.
At this point everything he said, felt threatening. He was getting insecure., asking if I was annoyed with him telling me that I was beautiful, as well as asking me if I had ever taken courses in survival. It was honestly just so bizarre. It didn’t make sense, but I felt like if I tried to run away, he would chase after me. I felt like if I tried to assert my boundary one more time he would attack me.
I decided that I would not let what happened with the group of hikers happen again. I promised myself that the next group of people I saw, I would hike with, even if they were going a different direction. I would cling onto them for life and I would not go any further with norm.
Only moments later, a group of teenagers playing music out of their speaker began to walk towards us. I looked at Norm and I told him I’m gonna hike alone the rest of the way goodbye. I then walked towards the group of teenagers. Going the opposite direction from norm. he looked furious. And then a moment later he was gone he began to run down the trail fast.
As I was approaching the teenagers, I looked down at my cell phone and realized I had cell service. It was only one or two bars, but I knew that I could call. I called my dad. My voice was shaking and I was so nervous. I explained to him that I felt unsafe, and I wanted to stay on the phone until I knew that that man was gone. We stayed on the phone. The last time I saw Norm, I was on the phone with my dad.
Norm ran up from behind me waving at me. I have no clue how he was behind me or where he had come from, since I had seen him run down the trail. How did he get behind me?
As I was on the phone with my dad, he angrily shouted “see ya!” And ran off again. I stayed on the phone with my dad until I was back at the trailhead. I ended up brushing it off. I told a few girls at my work and they thought it was weird but ultimately nothing really happened. Luckily I wasn’t attacked. I think I handled the situation the best I could’ve.
But let me tell you, that night when I was working my shift at the front desk alone, I was terrified he was going to come in. Thankfully, he didn’t.
That’s my story!

I just yanked out a nasty weed that was suffocating this plum tree. Now I'm wondering if I would hurt the tree by putting a cinder block rim around it and a layer of rocks inside of the cinder blocks. My wife and I have also talked about doing concrete pavers underneath the tree to use as our picnic area. Is this a good idea or a bad idea? Would I still be able to fertilize the tree if I do this.

I've decided to start writing a medieval Zombie story as was wondering if someone would critique the opening chapter, want to know if its terrible and should start again before I carry on.
Chapter 1: The Rising Shadows of Silvergrove
The kingdom of Thalindor had long been a realm where light and darkness were locked in an endless, precarious balance. Fertile valleys of emerald meadows and golden fields of wheat gave way to bleak, obsidian mountain peaks that scraped the belly of thunderheads like jagged fangs. Teeming cities thrived along trade routes and river basins, their bustling markets and soaring spires of civilization in stark contrast to the vast, untamed wilderness that stretched in all directions—a sea of primordial forests, ghostly fens, and nameless terrors that skulked beyond the guarding torchlight.
Yet of late, a deeper and more ominous umbra had begun to spread its clinging tendrils through the cracks and fissures of the realm. As the sun surrendered to dusk's grasp on this particular eve, an encroaching pall of dread and decay seemed to swallow the previously tranquil village of Silvergrove whole, smothering its cheerful thatch rooftops and cobblestone lanes beneath a suffocating, unnatural silence.
Silvergrove had always been the idyllic ideal of a rural hamlet—nestled in the verdant foothills of the ancient Silverleaf Forest with a robust population of farmers, woodcutters and the like. Winding lanes meandered between stout cottages, their windows always flickering with welcoming hearth-light. The very heart of the community was a village green dominated by an immense oak tree whose sheltering boughs had provided respite from the blazing summers for generations uncounted.
Now, as the last borrowed rays of dusk faded into sepulchral gloom, not a single candle pierced the pitch-black shutters and bolted doors. The majestic oak stood desiccated and skeletal, its few remaining leaves crumbling like ash at the merest stirring of the chill autumn wind. A ghostly rime of mist clung to the lane's furrows, rendering the entire scene blurred and indistinct, as if the world itself was coming apart at the seams.
The only sound was a laboured, rhythmic plodding—the approach of a lone rider. Sir Eamon Steelblade, veteran knight of the Order of the Shattered Sword, reined his snorting destrier to a halt just within the village bounds. His piercing eyes scanned the desolate tableau revealed by the dancing light of a single flickering lantern. Soot-stained armour scarred by a hundred battles did little to mask the warrior's rising sense of disquiet.
He had been dispatched by King Alden Thorne himself after a spate of disturbing rumours began trickling through the inner circles of the court. Tales of the dead clawing their way from hallowed ground in the remote fiefs, spurred forth by an insatiable, vindictive hunger for the living. For the first few weeks, such ghastly accounts had been dismissed as the product of fear mongering and overactive imaginations...until entire hamlets simply fell ominously silent, their panicked missives abruptly ceasing.
Sliding from his saddle with a grunt, Eamon rested one gauntleted hand on the hilt of his family's ancestral longsword as his steel-plated boots crunching on the frost-rimed cobblestones. The deathly silence seemed to swallow his very breath, lying thick and cloying like a malevolent fog.
"Is there anyone there?" he called out in a rumbling baritone sharpened by the crisp night air. For a breathless moment, his echoing challenge went unanswered, the dimly lit facades of the derelict cottages almost seeming to mock him with their deathly stillness. Then a faint, rhythmic tapping reached his ears through the gloom like the first feeble knell of doom.
Cautiously tracing the sound to a small, cobbled square dominated by the cracked steeple of an abandoned village chapel, Eamon's eyes narrowed on a hunched form perched on the weather-beaten steps. An old man, his threadbare robes little protection against the deepening chill, sat tapping a knurled cane against the ancient stone in a stuttering, arrhythmic cadence. As Eamon approached, the aged villager raised his face, rheumy eyes widening in an expression caught between soul-deep weariness and rekindled hope at the knight's approach.
"You've come..." the oldster's voice was little more than a reedy, tremulous rasp of relief as he squinted up at the hulking figure of the heavily armed warrior looming over him. "Praise be to the gods...we had started to fear no one would..."
"I am Sir Eamon Steelblade of the Brotherhood of the Shattered Sword," the knight replied simply, removing his battered helmet to reveal a wizened countenance lined by decades of hardship and war. "I have been sent to ascertain the truth behind these...disturbances."
The old man's face contorted into a haunted rictus of grief and dread, his sunken features thrown into stark relief by the flickering lantern light. "Disturbances?" he rasped out a bitter, mirthless laugh that rattled in his hollow chest. "Aye, you could sugar-coat it with such honeyed words if you wished, knight. But I shall lay the foul truth bare, no matter how it turns your noble stomach."
He leaned forward, his bony fingers clenching Eamon's armoured forearm with surprising strength as he fixed the warrior with the full intensity of his wild, reddened gaze. "The dead walk among us, smothered in the shroud of unholy resurrection. They have taken my beloved Mary...taken her with their rotten, clawing hands and snapping jaws as she tended her garden. Her screams still echo through my dreams, cut brutally short as they..." His voice broke, thick with the anguish of a father's loss.
Eamon felt his own gut twist in horror, an icy lance of revulsion piercing his stoic demeanour. Tales of necromancy and the foulest of curses unleashing the unquiet dead upon the living were the most dreaded childhood bogeys—tales meant to reinforce the sanctity of life and its proper cycle. To hear those stories made terribly, obscenely real by the raving of a grieving parent struck at the very core of his being.
Rallying his resolve, he squeezed the old man's shoulder firmly, his voice lowered to a gentle rumble. "Peace, goodman. I must hear the full truth. From the start—how did this... abomination first take root in your home? No details shall be spared, nor omissions made, I swear it upon the sacred honour of my brotherhood."
Nodding shakily, the old man drew in a ragged breath and began his grim recounting. He spoke of the first tendrils of blight that appeared some few weeks past, manifesting as a withering plague that initially culled several of the village's most aged and infirm. Their deaths were mourned, and their bodies interred with all solemn rites in the hallowed ground of the local cemetery.
It was only a few days later, when the first unholy screams rang out in the night, swiftly drowned beneath the tortured howls of those who ran to investigate, that the townsfolk realized something was deeply, cosmically wrong. The graves of those recently put to rest had been brutally ripped open from within, their occupants now resurrected as mindless, violent husks with an insatiable, vindictive hunger for the living. Those who were bitten or grievously wounded by one such beast swiftly sickened, the corpse-taint hastening their own deaths...only for their remains to rise again and join the ranks of the cursed undead.
"It was as if the very boundaries separating this world and the next were being shredded," the old man whispered hoarsely, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Those of us still human were forced to watch, paralyzed in our homes by sheer mortal terror, as our loved ones and neighbours were slaughtered and then crudely reborn as mocking husks of their former selves."
Eamon cursed vehemently under his breath, feeling his own bile rise at the visceral imagery. These were no mere fables or eventide ghost stories —this was the cold, corporeal reality they now faced. A true necromancer's curse...and one that had already dug its rotting tendrils deep into the heart of this once-serene village.
"How did this damned blight first take root, old man?" he pressed grimly, gripping the hilt of his longsword until his knuckles shone pale as bone beneath his calloused skin. "And who...or what...set these abominable events into motion?"
The old man's eyes hardened. "It started with Old Vargan—the farm at the village outskirts. He was the first to die of this wasting illness, the first to rise again when his body rejected the consecrated slumber of death. Some of the survivors swear by their dying breaths that the bastard had been delving into foul magic and necromancy, trying to cheat mortality itself. Tomes and rituals best left unread..."
He trailed off, shaking his head wearily as Eamon fought to keep his blade sheathed. A necromancer—one of those wretched souls who spurned the natural cycle in favour of profaning it for their own selfish, overreaching gains. Of course...it all made a horrible sense now. Such curses were not spontaneously birthed, instead requiring a twisted mind and tainted will.
"If any know the truth, it would be young Lyra," the old man went on, his voice cracking. "She was tending to Vargan in his final days. Her healer's hut lies on the northern outskirts, but I warn you knight—do not throw your life away carelessly. The night belongs to those...things...now."
Eamon simply nodded and rose in a clatter of plate and mail, his expression set like chiselled granite. "Then to her I must go, with all haste. This blight shall be scoured from these lands, old man...I swear it, though it cost me my very soul."
With a curt turn, he set off down the silent, mist-shrouded lanes of the village, his armoured tread ringing against the ancient cobblestones like the knell of doom itself. He could feel the weight of countless unseen eyes upon his back, sense the furtive scurrying of footsteps far too light and boneless to be human. Already, the gnashing jaws and pallid, soulless gazes of the undead lurkers were pressing in from the all-consuming night.
The path leading away from the village center was barely recognizable, the cobblestones now almost entirely subsumed beneath a tangled mass of briars, brambles, and noxious weeds. Plant life once so vibrantly tended had run amok in the recent weeks of utter neglect, the untamed greenery reclaiming the land with startling swiftness. The very air itself seemed stagnant and choked with the cloying reek of decay.
Sir Eamon pressed on, his sword leading the way to cut a path through the overgrown detritus. Skeletal fingers of blackened deadwood clawed at his armor and plucked at his billowing cloak in passing, as if the forest itself was rousing to the foulest of unlife to impede his progress. His lip curled in disgust at the profane wrongness saturating this place—the obscene desecration of nature itself by the necromancer's vile touch.
At length he broke through the final curtain of vegetation to find himself facing a cottage that seemed almost impossibly quaint in comparison to the decrepit state of the rest of the village. The thatched roof was still intact, hearty oaks beams supporting the walls that surely stood for generations before the fell blight arrived. Even a few errant tendrils of smoke coiled lazily from the chimney, hinting that the arcane forces of defilement had not entirely conquered all bastions of life and warmth.
Eamon raised his gauntleted fist and knocked firmly on the stout oak door, the sound startlingly loud in the eerie stillness. For several moments there was no reply, and the knight felt his insides twist with the creeping fear that his grim expectations had been met. Then the door creaked open a mere fraction on rusted iron hinges, revealing the slimmest of gaps—just enough for a single wary eye to peer out at him.
"You...you're the knight they spoke of?" The feminine voice was a dry, tremulous rasp weighted by bone-deep fatigue. Another pause, and then the door inched further ajar to reveal the owner of that lifeless tone.
The woman—if she could truly still be called that, so drained and haggard were her features—stood framed in the threshold with spine bent by despair. Her tattered robes hung from a slender frame seemingly aged decades by the ceaseless torment, and her eyes were shadowed pools of visceral horror that stole what little beauty may once have graced her visage. One gnarled hand clutched a wickedly sharp dagger against her breast—less a weapon than a final, fatalistic comfort against the encroaching daycloak of death.
"Aye..." Eamon's voice was a low rumble, softened with the barest semblance of gentleness in hopes of soothing whatever ragged remnants of innocence still clung to this tragic daughter of the village. "Eamon Steelblade, of the Brotherhood of the Shattered Sword. You are the healer Lyra, I take it?"
She nodded jerkily, suspicion and hope warring behind those hollow, deadened eyes. "I...I am. They told me a knight was coming, but I had stopped believing..." She trailed off, shaking her head minutely before raising her chin a fraction, as if remembering a fleeting speck of defiant inner fire. "You've come to try and stop this nightmare?"
Eamon shifted his weight, feeling the creak and groan of bone and battered plate. "That is the purest truth. I have learned from the village elders that a necromancer's curse has taken root here, unleashing the unquiet dead upon your people. And I mean to see the instigator of this profane crime face true justice, whatever form that may take."
For a beat, Lyra simply stared back at him, weighing his words against the backdrop of the atrocities she had been forced to endure. Then, with a slow indrawn breath, she stepped back from the door and waved him inside with a stiff, terse gesture. "Come in, quickly. You and I have much to discuss if you are to have any hope of succeeding."
The interior of the cottage was shadowed in a perpetual gloaming despite the guttering candles, every nook and cranny stuffed with desiccated herbs and tinctures on sagging, cobweb-festooned shelves. The air was thick with the reek of fear-sweat and slow rot—an entire world concentrated within these four walls. Charred detritus and petrified rivulets of blackened wax coated the hardwood floors, signs of hasty barricades erected and just as quickly overwhelmed.
"Vargan I tried to help him...but the necromancer's curse was too tight over him." Lyra's voice was thick, the words dredged up from some pit of fresh trauma. "Near the end, when the wasting illness came for him at last, I tended to him as best I could. Those were...before the worst began. He raved and gibbered so, his skin flushed with fever and rimmed eyes seeing unseeable things beyond the veil of death..."
Eamon nodded grimly, jaw set as he reached out a steadying gauntlet to rest on the young woman's trembling shoulder. Up close, Eamon could see the full toll that the curse of undeath had taken on Lyra. Her hair hung limp and brittle, her cheeks were sunken and hollow, and her fingernails were torn and ragged - signs of clawing battles against unseen, nightmarish entities. She had been at the epicentre of this unholy plague, enduring horrors unimaginable.
"What did he speak of, during those final throes?" he pressed delicately. "Any hint of the dark force that birthed this plague?"
Lyra's eyes flicked up to meet his, glassy and unfocused for just an instant before a spark of lucidity flared behind them. "Feverish mutterings about...rituals. And a book—an ancient, profane tome he unearthed from the ruins of the old citadel in the Whispering Woods. Ravings about unlocking the secret of eternal life, cheating true death itself." She exhaled a shuddering breath and dropped her forehead into a cradled palm. "I burned all of it after he finally passed...but it was too late. Whatever was written on those blackened pages had already birthed an unholy seed."
A low, guttural moan, more bestial than human, echoed through the cottage from the surrounding gloom. It was swiftly followed by the unmistakable shuffle and drag of footsteps - sluggish, clumsy, yet utterly inexorable in their approach. Lyra went rigid, her eyes widening in draining pools of stark terror as her bloodless lips parted in a wordless cry of dread.
"They're here..." she mouthed, fingers convulsing around the hilt of her dagger as her entire body began to tremble violently.
Eamon was already in motion, his sword ringing free of its scabbard in a shrill whisper of arcane-forged steel. The blade's mirrored surface glinted in the candle's failing light as he levelled it towards the swaying door. "Get behind me!"
He had scarcely gotten the words out before the flimsy wood barrier burst inward in an explosion of kindling and splinters. Silhouetted in the aperture was a shambling figure equal parts nightmare fuel and blasphemous sacrilege against life itself - a twisted, hunched abomination of tattered, desiccated flesh hanging obscenely from exposed ivory bones. Empty sockets blazed with twin pinpricks of crimson hunger as the monstrosity's jaws - distended and unhinged like those of a monstrous serpent - gaped wide, revealing serrated fangs slick with some vile putrescence.
The reek that billowed in the abomination's wake was a physical force unto itself, a virulent miasma that seared Eamon's eyes and scorched his lungs. The conflated charnel stenches of mass grave, slaughterhouse, and septic tank united in an unholy, cloying funk that robbed the senses and turned the very stomach.
Even as the behemoth took its first lurching step over the threshold, a dozen more of its undying kindred appeared at its hunched back - a macabre vanguard of decomposition and carnage. Eamon met the first with a mighty diagonal slash, his sword shearing through the fragile husk with surprising ease to scatter brittle shards across the room. Swiftly reversing the arc, he caught the second horror square in its sunken ribcage, cleaving it nearly in twain with a spray of putrescent ichor.
"Lyraaaaaahhhh..." The name was drawn out in a hideous, sub-harmonics gurgle that seemed to thrum with demonic tongues as dark, viscous bile spewed between the thing's gnashing fangs. It surged forward, all pretence of its once-human shape abandoned in favour of scrabbling, boneless contortion fueled by inhuman strength and unholy awakening.
"STAY CLOSE!" Eamon's bellow shook still-hanging herbs from their moorings as he backpedalled, working his blade in wide slashing figures designed to catch and repel the slavering fiends. Claws and fangs snapped at the impossibly small gap left by his guard as the shamblers poured through the breach in endless, groaning ranks.
Lyra was a diminutive shadow at his back, dagger held with both hands in white-knuckled grip, eyes blown wide at the obscenities against nature clogging the air around them. Each time one of the undead abominations drew too near her trembling form, it was met with a deep, two-handed thrust from Eamon's gleaming longsword - the monomolecular edge parting desiccated sinew and splintering bone with brutal finality.
He was a hurricane's heart-eye, the glaring calm at the centre of a roiling vortex of violence rendered all the more terrible by the sheer, blasphemous wrongness of the motive force behind it. At every turn, his sword lashed out to put down shambling nightmares, dismembering and eviscerating with kinetic fury. The cottage floor was littered ankle-deep in vile offal and chittering limbs within moments as Eamon fought with a ferocity born of desperation and obligation against this unhallowed tide of death.
The air grew thick with the charnel reek of split viscera as the corpse-tide rose higher around them. With every fallen fiend the true scope of the profane sorcery that gripped the village became clearer - no mere cult of madmen but an unholy resurrection spanning the whole community. For every pair of sickly hands falling limp beneath his whirling adamant cyclone, three more clawed free of the obstructing mire to join the fray, inch after agonising inch.
As the unholy tide of undead surged and broke against his whirling blade in putrid waves, Eamon's realisation burned brighter than the flickering candles - a grim epiphany forged in the scorching crucible of battle. This was no mere outbreak to be contained, no quarantined pestilence that could be allowed to burn itself out. What they were facing was nothing less than the dread manifestation of a necromancer's foulest curse - an abomination born of the blackest of arts wielded by a mind too prideful and power-mad to heed the natural laws.
With each desperate parry and riposte, slicing through leathery desiccated hides and severing worm-eaten tendons, Eamon's jaw clenched tighter. Whoever this defiler was, whatever profane ritual or tome they had unearthed, it had to be excised with impunity and the utmost finality. If he failed here, if even a single necrotic seed slipped through...the entirety of Thalindor could potentially fall to this virulent, entropic blight. The verdant, teeming kingdom subsumed into an endless, cannibalistic undead wasteland.
Gritting his teeth against the charnel hazmat clawing at his senses, Eamon redoubled his efforts, cleaving through the nightmare tide with every scrap of technique and momentum he could muster. One by one, the undead abominations fell with meaty, sloppy impacts, severed limbs bouncing and rolling through the mounting morass until only a single twitching trunk remained, impaled squarely on the gleaming length of his majestic sword. It spasmed briefly before the unnatural fires sputtered out behind its glassy, doll-like eyes.
At last, there was silence - a vacuum of deathly quiet unbroken but for the knight's own ragged, sawing breaths. Thick ropes of sweat and worse matted his hairline as he lowered the gory blade and turned to take stock of Lyra. The young healer stood frozen amid the visceral aftermath, dagger held slackly in one trembling hand while the other rose to cover her mouth, stifling the scream of mortal terror attempting to claw its way free.
"Are you...alright?" His own voice sounded alien to his ringing ears, little more than a hoarse croak forced past a bone-dry windpipe. Lyra's wide, hunted eyes flicked up to meet his own before she managed a feeble, numb nod of assent.
"Y-yes...thank...you..." The last trailed off into a bare whisper, her frantically thrumming pulse visible in the slender hollow of her throat.
Swallowing a thick surge of sour-tasting bile, Eamon slid the broadsword into its sheath, already feeling the icy tendrils of dread worming through his gut. This was merely the overture, he knew - the barest herald of the true unholy menace lurking just out of sight. They had stemmed one rivulet of the foul necrotic tide, but the main artery...the source, the heart of this abominable dark magic...remained to be uncovered and purged with impunity.
He turned towards the shattered door and the beckoning night beyond. "We need to find where that fool Vargan unearthed this curse and purge it from its rotten marrow." Forcing iron into his voice, he levelled a sober look at the young healer. "You know this area better than I, girl. If there is a foul node, a dark beating heart to all this unholy resurrection, where would it lie?"
Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Lyra visibly marshalled the last lingering shreds of her composure. "There...there is one place." Her voice was thready but gaining strength, feeding off the armoured pillar of resolve before her. "The old citadel keep, deep in the heart of the Whispering Woods. That is where Vargan found his damned book of necromancy, his pursuit of immortality at any cost." She swallowed hard, meeting Eamon's gaze levelly. "If there are any answers, any way to end this madness, they will be found there."
The knight gave a grim nod of understanding. Of course, the cankerous seed would have taken root amid such profane, blighted soil. An ancient keep, steeped in untold atrocities and stained by unremembered rites - the perfect breeding ground for this defiling curse to go unnoticed until it erupted into full, gory bloom.
"Then that is our destination. Gather whatever meagre provisions and supplies you can carry. We leave at first light to seek out this festering heart and burn it out before all of Thalindor is reduced to ash and walking carrion." His words were measured and weighted, leaving no room for argument or uncertainty.
As Lyra began mechanically gathering her belongings with jerky, haunted movements, Eamon strode through the obliterated threshold and into the night-shrouded ruin of the village beyond. The cool caress of untainted air was a balm on his skin, allowing him to draw several deep, purifying lungful’s as he surveyed the desolate scene. This tragedy was only a harbinger - echoes of the inexorable unravelling to come if the source was not rapidly and ruthlessly excised.
Silvergrove had been the opening salvo, the first shock troops sent to weaken their resolve before the true onslaught. As Eamon stared into the impenetrable shadows cloaking the horizon and imagined the forces of undeath massing there, he knew the battle for the living kingdom's survival had only just begun.