ShadyDancer

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  1. The fog came quick. Soaking into the bones as it washed in off the frigid arctic seas. Within minutes it had enveloped the small fishing post, shrouding the sagging cabins as it rolled in off the sea ice. For Goodluck it was time to go. He'd gathered as much as he could, tried fishing at the ice hole for as long as he could have kept the hole going- just like how his aunt had taught him. But there was nothing he could do no. The boat wasn't coming back. If he was to get back to the mainland it would be by land. The lad stashed the lure into the pockets of his old overcoat and started off, even as the fog swirled about him like the tendrils of a jellyfish. Fog wasn't good. But he had to leave now: fuel was nearly spent and there was only so much food that could sustain him here. If he could find his way out of the island, across to the mainland... maybe there was a chance with his mother and Aunt Dove. They had food, and his uncles to protect him. If only he could just get there,. He couldn't wait for fog to pass. The first ones had once called it many things. The Crazed Hunter. The Madness. The eater of spirits. But it didn't care for them. Why was it here? It didn't know. It didn't care. The world was different. The same, but different. The smells were new, strange hard things now covered parts of the ground and rose into the sky. Things were missing. The great elks, the horses. The tusked ones. But there was new prey, and it was hungry. The first peoples had once called it many things. The Crazed Hunter. The Madness. The eater of spirits. The Bear of the Caves. The Bear with the Short Face. Goodluck held his fingers under his armpits and swore, as his aunt wasn't there to swat his ears. He trudged up the slope, the snow compacting under his old boots. At least he had those. He'd come across a body once, wearing running trainers. In this weather? No wonder the man had been frozen stuff. The young man tried to tuck his nose into his collar as he walked, passing between the shadow of the great black rocks. His pack weighed heavily on him, the food cans clanking, the container of fuel sloshing. There was a new sound. He paused and saw birds circling ahead. That was never good. It usually meant bodies. Bodies could mean meat, in the cases of the deer or rabbits. Or it could mean wolves. Crunching on hard blue fingers, ripping into frozen anoraks and sweaters. He reckoned he should steer clear of that. How much further? He wasn't sure, but he wanted to put as much distance down as he could before he either found a house to shelter him, or the old made him stop and start a fire. As much distance as possible in as little time. When he heard the roar, his flesh prickled and his heart leapt. The wolves had been easily chased away. No bear was like this. It crunched on the frozen body, its jaws easily clamping around entire limbs as its grey-black frame rippled in the foggy air. With it's gut filled it had loped away, gouging a path in the snow where it passed. It had come across the small one as it did so. In a valley, it had spied him, walking with his head tucked. The thing on two legs. It looked like the ones It had known, the ones with the hot fire and sharp spears. But this one didn't wear the clothes of it's people, but strange looking things, like the frozen bodies. The two-leg was down the slope. It was up in the trees to the side. It had roared, bearing jaws and jumbled, ancient teeth. The figure had frozen, before it suddenly broke into a sprint, running like a deer, like a horse. The bear roared again and started to lope on after. It had the time. It had the strength. It had the armour against the cold. A bear! If it hadn't been the biggest bear he'd ever seen! Goodluck had ran and ran, his legs screaming with the anaerobic respiration, lungs heaving. It had to be huge. Broad of thighs, with a heavy thick head. Dark fur and like a great big shadow charging through the snow. He lay by the fire he'd started, his stomach growling with ferocious hunger, and looked into the darkness. The bright red light only reached so far. Shadows filled in between the tall boughs. Shadows like the bear. He drew his knees up and shivered. He felt so exposed, silhouetted in the light of the fire. But fire protected him. It had to. Any other animal was afraid of it, so this one had to be as well. That was the only reason he still breathed, he knew, as he listened to the bubbling of the water in an old bean can. But what kind of bear was like that? So big! It's mouth snapping like some monster from hell, its eyes dark amid it's immense, short-snouted head. He remembered hearing something from his mother, or was it one of his uncles? A story about a bear, so big with a face short and a temper even shorter. They had said it had stalked their ancestors here. Coming or going, like a curse that alternated throughout the decades, centuries even, before the traders and the soldiers had arrived. Goodluck tossed more wood onto the fire. He prayed he had enough. Enough to last him through the night, til he got his strength for another burst to freedom. They still had the fire. Fire burning so bright, the heat that scalded and ruined flesh. It cursed him as it's huge body moved stealthily between the trees, sending rabbits running at the primeval monster's step. It didn't know why it was of this world now. But it would do as it always did. Hunt. Morning. He had to have lost it by now. He'd been walking through all the early hours of the morning, carrying with him a torch when he had regained his strength. Now he stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down upon the spread of the icy land. The winter snows had come hard and the farmland beyond was nothing but thigh deep powder, dead branches and empty silos. There had to be something there, or someone. He shivered, his fingers feeling numb, his nose stinging. The cold was gnawing at him like bearing ripping through the dead trunk of a tree, his stomach gurgling about some fish he'd cooked on the fire and half an energy bar. Where was the bear? He'd not seen the shadow in some hours, but he had heard it. It's heavy breath as he waited by the fire, then as he waded through the snow, it's distant roars. Enough time had been spent staring. He looked down into the woods, for his route to the open plains of Pleasant Valley. The irony of the name wasn't funny. An empty night. It's mouth wanted more meat. It wasn't like the bears here. The soft, weak ones that fled at danger and only scavenged or attacked the wounded or isolated. It was a predator, a true predator of an old time. It watched the two leg descend, its claws digging into the snow, huffing air through it's immense nose, warming it to protect it's lungs. It started to follow, making quick progress lumbering down the winding snowy slopes, between the tall trees. It's shaggy pelt showed the scars of the tusks, of the tigers, of the men. The two-footed one wouldn't escape it. It would find it. But the smell... the smell was fading. No.... the scent that it now relied on now the two leg was out of sight, it was going. Something else was in it's place. A nasty, foul stench. One that no natural thing should create. The bear recoiled and plunged on ahead. The fog was clearing but it couldn't smell, still, the stench was filling it's powerful nose and rendering it blind. The bear snarled out, roaring in anger and swiped at the snow, but there was little it could do. It carried on further. The little one wouldn't escape him now. It wouldn't let this stop him. Goodluck's breath had caught in his throat. He was shivering now, be it from cold or fear. Maybe it was the bear that was moving through the trees at the bottom of the hill, snarling and swiping. Maybe it was the stinking gasoline that soaked into his jacket and was freezing to his hair. It was so close. He could see it's vastness, the features unlike any normal bear. It's anger and fury as it sniffed the air and found nothing to lead it to it's prey. He'd remembered what his father had said about bears. How they smelled. It might be the bear his mother had talked about, the Crazed One, the Eater of Spirits. But it was still a bear. He'd had a container in his pack- gasoline he'd siphoned from a car when it had no longer worked. It had been meant to be used to start lamps or fires. But now it liberally soaked into his clothes, making his eyes water with it's horrible stench. More of it was sprayed around the area, throwing off his smell with the stink of petrochemicals. He watched it some more. It turned about, snapping at the ear. It was angry that was for sure. They didn't call it the Crazed one for nothing. Slowly, carefully he started to crawl away, his breath held in terrifying suspense as he made towards more cover, frozen bushes to hide his progress. In his mind he thanked his parents over and over. And hoped he'd see them again. The wretch! The little weasel was gone. The bear had searched for what must have been hours, though it had no concept of such time. Time was a human thing. It's hunger and rage was the primeval force the motivated it and governed it's strange life. It gritted its teeth and ran it's tongue over it's scarred lips before striking at out at a tree with one immense paw. Shredded bark and wood flew. No. It wouldn't let the morsel get away from it this time. It's brutal head cocked and it scanned out, from the hills, across the flat ground, now clear of the fog. There. A tiny figure. It could see it moving across the snow. There. It had chased down ancient giants. It had killed plenty before. This one wasn't going to humiliate it. He had seen it coming. Loping with it's hellish, up-down gait. Massive thighs pumping and paws digging into the earth. Goodluck had taken the only chance possible. He'd ran. There were buildings up ahead. Far ahead. It was a town that he knew little of, a dingy podunk called Thompson's crossing. It was behind him. Had been so for a while, but he had run. Shedding his overcoat for speed. He let items fall from his pack and not picked them up to lessen his weight. His toes throbbed and the soles of his feet ached from the constant pounding run, his numb body parts were lost and forgotten in his sprint. Above the skies were turning to an swash of purple, the colours blending like thick oil paint. Not that he could appreciate it. He was lost to his desperate run, legs gunning up and down even as they screamed in pain. His toes felt like they bled as he hit the road. It was behind him still, closer now, baring down with brutal, uncaring speed. Jaws gaping. He ran faster and faster. It watched the two-legged one get closer and closer. Its mouth watered and it's black soul cackled with the desire for revenge, It thought it could have escaped the bear. But it couldn't hide forever Each of it's powerful strides took it closer, claws scraping the froze asphalt. The two legged one was at a breakneck pace, even shedding a shoe to continuing running in it's bloody sock. The bear didn''t care. It watched as the young man ran to a house, empty and cold and beat it at the door with his brown hands, screaming and yelling for help. It's cries were ignored by the silent facade, and the door remained locked. Not that there was anyone inside to open. It was close now. Close enough to see the fear and panic on the two-legged one's face. It braced itself as it bore down, the prey running to another door, crying and sobbing, throwing itself against the wood. Ancient jaws opening wide, facial muscles moving bone. Goodluck collapsed against the door and turned to see the great dark shape rise. He'd tried. He'd given it his best. In a scene that had been played out for ages past, the great bear reared up, its hairy chest bared and its eyes glinting in the light of the dying day. Hof puffs of steam emerged from it's nose and the great, slavering mouth that dropped open to expose the yellowed teeth. It gave a low, triumphant roar. Little morsels always tried their best to escape. But it was too old to be tricked. Too strong to be outrun. And though they were both alone, it was the only lone hunter. He took in a rasping breath, his lungs searing from the effort that had gotten him to this doorstep. Tears ran from his bloodshot eyes as he wheezed from a dry mouth. It had been a good shot. He just wished he'd tried a little harder. Then he could have maybe gone back home. Then his mother wouldn't be stuck waiting for him to come in from the cold. But it had come to an end. He was spent. The bear seemed to be at the end of a tunnel, framed against the purple and pink of the sky. Reared up, like the demonic thing of stories past, he watched as the world went red, painfully searing red. It was all too much for him to register the screech of the projectile flare, the pained scream of the beast and the hands dragging him suddenly through the temporarily opened door. By the time he was inside, he'd passed into exhausted unconsciousness *** Burns. The stink of burns. It's jaw smarted. The flesh bubbled and raw. The fur burned away. They hid in their little huts. Of wood and something hard and cold. His claws had torn great chunks out of the oak but it had held. It had tried the sides but they were stronger than the simple tents of hide and bone it was used to. The bear roared to the sky and it realised it was cheated. But it was old. Older than any bear. Older than any thing on this island. It would go back to where it hid. Back to wait. It had the island to rule. And all the time it needed. The next ones would come along. This little rat could slip away. It just needed to wait, out there in the freezing white.
  2. Wandering about the Coastal Road when the mist swept in to create such a quiet and brooding atmosphere
  3. Had just fallen into the frozen lake and ran to this homestead freezing cold. Fired up the stove in the ruins to cook some food and built a fire right beside it to dry off and keep warm. Then I realised how homely and costly it looks
  4. Loving the game and have been playing it for a week now. Wintermute and the overall aesthetic is lovely. I know some Canadians and FN people online and while chatting with them about the game, it made me think that some FN people would be a nice inclusion as characters in Wintermute. Both for some representation and the potential for rich and intriguing stories coming from their experiences and culture. I’d love to be able to find out about the native history of bear island and interact with some FN inhabitants. Especially pulling in other story threads like the Old Bear could make for some very interesting stuff