The Everfree Forest was an ancient, gnarled, and well storied region of the planet Equiis. Not only did it act as a natural defense from invaders for Equestria, it is also theorized that the modern three species of pony emerged from the forest many thousand years ago before rising to be the dominant species on the planet. While modern ponies shied away from the forest at all costs, with most living in major cities, ponies many generations back had a common saying regarding their cradle region: “The forest was here before us and it will be here after.”

Even though the saying was old, it was still very much parroted in modern day by the ponies and other races that found themselves living near the Everfree, or even within its bounds in rare circumstances. It was a region that demanded respect and as such made forgetting such a saying impossible. Many a town and village had been wiped out or mysteriously vanished over the combined history of colonization by different species within the Everfree.

The ancient forest was well known for swallowing up, not just settlements, but anything that stayed too long within the trees, the Everfree had no qualms about devouring individuals or even entire armies. Its hunger had as such made many famous figures disappear, not caring about their “high status”.

Be it Grand Field Marshall Ludweiss, commander of the great Griffon flying corps, and all of her three hundred troops who all disappeared during their attempted crossing of the Everfree to attack Equestria’s flank during the War of Empires. Or the old minotaur king Sturkur, the many times great grandfather of the current king of the Minotuar empire, who failed to return home after one of his famous year long reprieves into the forest.

Be you commoner or royalty, the Everfree would kill you all the same and leave nothing for those you leave behind to find. Even when somepony or griffon or minotaur escaped the forest with their lives they rarely returned home the same as when they left.

This was occurrence was observed greatly during a period of intense exploration when each nation was sending large numbers of experienced adventurers into the forest to discover anything of use like a navigable waterway or raw resources, not all came home, none found anything of real use, and most of those that did return home went mad or so were horribly traumatized they could no longer go on living independently. It was such a common occurrence that the term Everfree Psychosis became not only the colloquial diagnosis, but the official diagnosis as well.

It wasn’t long after adventures started coming home broken shells of their former selves that most empires halted the drive to find anything of use in the ancient forest. What came next was the overwhelming curiosity to know just what things resided within the forest were causing adventuring members of all races to go mad enmasse.

While an attempt to interview those that returned was made, not much was deduced from the interviews. The ones that were of sound enough mind to be considered “stable and normal” had obviously not encountered the same things as those that were clinically broken had. The ones that had seemingly gone deeper than the others and encountered those things that resulted in their minds breaking in fear and stress were incapable of describing anything in a meaningful way that didn't result in some form of hysteric rambling and screaming as they remembered the things they had seen.

What was most troubling was the ones that had reportedly made it the deepest in or ended up getting lost before making it out had all either killed themselves or left their various residences and walked back into the forest with nothing on their person, leaving behind their families long before any attempt to interview had been made.

Through all of the interviews that were conducted, nothing had been revealed as to what had ruined an entire generation of adventurers besides a correlation to how deep an individual made it into the forest and how badly they suffered from Everfree Psychosis.

---- Excerpt from published Everfree Psychosis report ----

0 - 10Kh: Symptoms range from none to slight. 3% casualty rate
10 - 20Kh: Symptoms range from mild to pronounced. 10% casualty rate.
20 - 30Kh: Symptoms range from heavy to severe. 27% casualty rate.
30 - 40Kh: Symptoms range from severe to debilitating. 65% casualty rate.
40 - 65Kh: Symptoms range from debilitating to complete mental ruination. 81% casualty rate.
65 - 72Kh: Minds broken, self termination, return to forest, 100% casualty rate
72Kh+: None return for interview, assumed 100% casualty rate.

It was result of the horrors the adventurers underwent and the reporting in the papers across the various nations along with final report that shifted the public’s view on the Everfree region from being respectfully afraid to believing the forest was actively evil and that all those that still resided within it needed to leave for their own safety. It was result of this mass exodus from the forest that caused the Everfree to seem all the more dark and evil, since there were no longer even a select few ponies or griffons, or minotaurs living with its thick trees to tell others about what it was like inside the dense foliage.

Of course not all individuals took heed of the warning to vacate the seemingly maleficent region when their governments said to do so. There were families and towns that had long and storied histories inside the forest, loggers, foragers, miners, farmers, all hearty and strong beings that refused to leave just because they were told to do so. They had survived and lived in the forest for multiple generations, great grandparents of great grandparents all having attended the same school house, worked the same trails, cut the same trees, mined the same ore. What did it matter if some pencil pusher said it wasn’t safe anymore?

None of them were heard from or seen again.

The first day into the forest had been relatively easy, with his experience and knowledge of single man patrolling Hank had found it easy to slip in the first ten miles undetected. The forest was extremely similar to a very dense old growth forest on Earth and put the man’s mind at ease even as walked through the barren ash covered plateau he and the royal sisters had made their last stand on.

While he had known it was unwise to even go near a region of the forest with so much recent… activity, let alone skyline his tall frame on a plateau with absolutely no cover to speak of, something always drew him back to sites of past action.

Much like he had done on Earth, visiting kill sites, or battlefields long after the fighting had ended the man found a melancholy kind of peace and remembrance looking at scars once flying bullets had left, empty brass casings that laid just where they had fell, or the craters left by once roaring artillery. It was a strange feeling to be the only member of both friendly and enemy party at a place where you had once clashed, killing each other.

The bodies were the hardest hitting part of the experience. Be it visiting on purpose, or simply passing by like he was now in the Everfree, it was a strange feeling that he had never really gotten over to see a body of a person that he had killed days to years before.

It was weird to be the surviving member of a deadly struggle that concluded in an instant, only to return years later and seeing the skeletonized remains slumped on the wall right where he’d watched the man he shot gurgle out his last breaths. The rib bones distinctly missing and shattered where the rifle round had crashed through, showing exactly what the man had felt inside his chest while he died.

While there were no bodies left in this circumstance, thanks to Celestia, the similarities were still there. His boot prints accompanied with Luna’s hoof prints were still defined in the now hardened ash, apparently having turned into a brittle concrete like substance after a rain or two. The dugout he had hid the two sisters in was still just like it was, the site of his campfire still stood, the blackened charcoal of the wood left unburned still in a rough teepee formation.

Time seemed to stop in such places, just like back home. With no one around anymore things didn’t get moved, bodies didn’t get buried, valuables didn’t get stolen or even noticed. A gold bar could be left in the middle of the street and in a year it would still be there. Not because it wasn’t valuable, but because there was no one around to find it and pick it up.

It was the same in the forest. It was clear to the man that animals avoided the place, there were no animal tracks in the ash, just those left by him and Luna. As the man walked on in his mission to find the source of his strife and destroy it the crunch of hardened ash under his boots slowed before stopping completely as he looked down at an area of dirt where the ash had obviously been kicked up in a struggle.

Huffing out a laugh to himself, knowing just what happened in the exact spot the man's eye followed the drag mark that ended at the dugout for a second before he turned with a sigh and continued on his way.

It wasn’t maybe but a mile after the plateau that the terrain took on a big change, the stream widened the ground became more uneven and inclined, the trees grew more gnarled and twisted, and a thick fog sat in obscuring Hank’s already low visibility and hearing. Besides greatly slowing down his already cautious and slow progress it caused the already high base level of paranoia that resided firmly in front of his mind to spike to new levels as his biggest advantage in the form of range was taken away.

Somehow he had managed to make it the entire first day and night without firing a single round from his carbine, even though he had raised it in anticipation on numerous occasions as somethings passed near him silently numerous times, their forms barely distinguishable through the thick gray fog.

After spending the night in a tree, with a rope tied under his arms and around the trunk in his favorite form of combat sleep since it got him away from most of the bugs and out of reach of most things that could kill him quickly in his sleep, the man set back out on his mission just as cautious as before even though the fog as lightened enough to see just a little over a hundred yards.

As the terrain finally flattened out Hank stopped at the edge of a large clearing and took a knee. Taking the moment to stop, look, listen, and smell his surroundings the man subconsciously tightened the grip on his rifle as the faint scent of wet dog hit his nose.

Taking note of the direction of the slight breeze, watching the direction the fine mist that had been slowly soaking him all day fall, he concluded that the dogs in question were somewhere across the clearing in the opposite woodline.

He couldn't see any movement or shapes through the still present fog, but he couldn't let that stop him from progressing toward his goal, he was deeper than he had ever been before and couldn't turn back now. He was at least happy that he had taken the time to seal the pipe bombs he had made, the kind of mist that he was going through now was the exact same that had ruined his plans all those years ago.

Looking around him one more time, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, the man clicked the safety off his carbine and slowly raised to his feet before hooking right, deciding to take the long way around the clearing instead of just cutting directly through it. Even though he would have preferred to get right into the fight, Hank knew better than to give away the element of surprise when he held it.

While the foliage and bush was thick on his route, compared to the much easier knee high grass of the clearing, Hank stayed the course, moving slowly, making sure every footfall was accounted for to ensure he lowered his signature as much as possible.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of constant moving and pausing, kneeling and scanning, his patients paid off when he heard three separate four legged beings start to stalk through the brush to his left getting closer to him.

Steadily making his way to the side of a large bush, only quickening his pace a small amount, Hank took a knee and waited for the three somethings he assumed were Shucks to cross in front of him as their footfalls grew louder and closer.

Staying still as a statue the man looked around him with only his eyes, keeping his head locked forward and rifle locked at the low ready. Soon enough out from behind a grove of saplings the first of the stalkers came into view followed closely behind by a second and then a third.

Stalk still the man watched as the three took turns sniffing the ground and scanning their surroundings. As the man watched the three it was clear that they were looking for him, occasionally sniffing at the air and snorting while looking around, the only thing that was keeping him undetected so far was his previous decision to take the harder slower route and the fact that he was still down wind from the trio.

It was also clear that the three knew he was close by since they had stopped moving on the line they had been before and were now slowly zig-zagging around trying to find a trail. What they didn’t know was that they walked right into the sights of exactly what they had been trying to stalk and ambush. The hunters had become the prey without even realizing.

All there was to do now was execute, but Hank held off instead taking the time to observe the stalker type Shucks and see how they operated when they weren’t aware of his presence for the first time.

It was clear to the man that they were by far the smartest of the Shucks. Using defined search patterns while also dividing attention. There would only ever be two at a time with their noses to the ground while the other would look around, minimizing the chance of something closing on them.

This would make it hard for the man to raise his rifle and take the three out since the look out would constantly scan over his area, even looking right at him, before looking somewhere else. He also had to consider his firing order, did he take the lookout first and then the two others?

No. He had to make sure none of them got away and alerted the main element he figured was somewhere concerningly close. He would take the two trackers first, waiting until the lookout was looking in his direction to fire so it didn’t realize its mates were dead, maximizing the chance it would decide to attack, thinking it had the numbers advantage.

Just as the lookout scanned over him again and before looking away, allowing him to raise his weapon and put the red dot of his sight on his first target the man paused, hearing the snap of a twig somewhere far off behind him.

The things had been pinching him without him even knowing, they were a lot smarter than he had been giving them credit for, this was going to complicate things going forward if he ran into more of these hunting parties.

Now forced to stay still and wait for his moment to come back around, the man held the carbine as still as he could on the head of the stalker he was aiming at. It was only a eighty yard shot tops but there was zero room for error, he had to make sure these three died so he could switch priority and engage however many were pushing him from the rear.

A deep breath in through his nose the man saw the lookout once again look in his direction through his open left eye as his right focused on the target through the Aimpoint and squeezed the trigger.

A still loud crack echoed through the dead silent woods as the seventy seven grain hunting round was sent flying towards its target. Switching targets to the other Shuck that still had its nose down Hank sent two more rounds flying with two pops of his carbine.

Bringing the rifle to bear on the lookout that was now locked onto him and sprinting directly towards him Hank’s heart rate barely raised as he pulled the trigger one more time, taking the Shuck at a mere fifty yards.

Up on his feet in an instant Hank took off into a sprint at a forty five degree angle from the last stalker he had shot that was convulsing on the forest floor, coughing on its own blood, heading about a hundred yards past the two other dead Shucks before ‘J’ hooking back around to his right, putting himself on the flank of his pursuers and in a spot to overlook his previous shooting position.

He could hear them crashing through the underbrush as they closed on him. A mere second after the man had braced the carbine on the side of a tree another stalker came crashing through the bush next to where he had shot the first three, much like he figured it would.

With a series of cracks from the super sonic rounds the first Shuck was sent to the leaf littered ground, silent. Holding the carbine tight into the shoulder Hank began to strafe to the side to get behind another tree but stopped halfway to engage another two that came through the brush fifty feet to his left.

Sending two at the first Hank switched to the other sending two more and watched it lose control before smashing into a large oak tree. The two rounds he had shot the first with not being enough apparently, the human shot the first of the pair with another round just as it got to its feet this time sending one right through the brain box making it fall bonelessly to the ground in a heap.

Abandoning the idea of making it to another tree to conceal himself behind. Hearing more movement through the brush Hank sent three rounds into the bush preemptively as he backed away before two more came through the trees in the direction he was looking.

Quickling engaging the Shucks on the move each got hit with multiple rounds of .223 as another shape caught the man’s attention through the bush out of his peripheral.

Switching to the one that must’ve come from around the clearing Hank sent round after round into the wolf making it flinch with each hit before its legs went out from under it causing it to smack into the ground and roll.

There was no moment for rest however as another Stalker came from Hank’s other side zipping through the trees.

Tracking it for a second through the red dot Hank pulled the trigger making it yelp and roll on the ground before it started to get up.

Pulling the trigger again before it could get away nothing came from the rifle as the Shuck started to run away with its back raised and tail tucked between its legs in the clear sign of a gut shot.

“Fuck.” The man cursed as he switched mags and dropped the bolt on a new round in under two seconds. It was two seconds too many through and it wasn't but a second before a loud howl cut through the trees alerting every Shuck in a five mile radius to his presence.

“Stupid fuckin’ cocksucker.” The man spit as he pushed through the brush as he ran in the direction the Shuck had disappeared, the thorns pulling at his sleeves and pants, cutting his hands and face.

Rounding the tree just as the stalker let out another haunting howl, Hank raised the rifle with no fanfare and shot the wolf in the back of the head, silencing it forever.

“Talk to your friends now asshole.” Hank frowned and took a deep breath while listening to his surroundings through the slight ringing in his ears.

The wishful thinking that maybe he had shut it up quick enough was dashed in an instant as howl after howl was sent up into the mist in response to the first.

Not one, not even ten, separate howls responded to the one the stalker had sent out. It was then that Hank realized that he was completely surrounded by separate hunting parties and that he needed to get the fuck outta dodge and fast.

Turning around and taking a second to get his bearings Hank started pumping his legs as hard as they would and bulldozed through the forest, using his considerable weight to run over saplings and push through any unfortunate plant growth that got in his way.

Despite the added weight of his weapons and sustainment equipment the lessened gravity allowed the human to sprint as hard as he could, zipping between the trees and over fallen obstacles in his path. He needed to create as much distance as possible between him and the hunting parties, while he may have had the ordinance to deal with the first onslaught that would find him he knew he didn’t have enough to face a horde like what he and the sisters had fought.

And the only way he could keep from finding himself fighting a tidal wave of black furred beasts was to stay on the move and stay undetected. If he sat still and held his position it would only be a matter of time before he was facing hundreds, if not thousands, of the things and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen if such a thing occurred.

As such Hank’s legs pumped hard as he cut through the forest at a manic pace, every one of his senses dedicated to nothing but staying upright and looking for targets. He was in pure run and gun mode now, acting as more of an animal than a man, driven by instinct and intuition. Hank's eyes searched for any movement and took note of the most likely ambush spots as he passed them.

His ears took in every sound that they could from the environment around them, from the sound of the distant and not so distant snapping of branches and howling to the sound of the forest around him to help him navigate.

The sound of rushing water told the man that he was getting closer to the river he was using as a guide into the Everfree. Before he had maintained an offset from the body of water of at least three hundred yards but now it was clear that the distance was rapidly closing since the man’s rapid pace not only crossed ground much faster than the slow deliberate pace he had maintained thus far but also because at such a pace it was impossible to take into account the finer details of the geography that allowed him to account for a meandering bend here and there.

Vaulting over a huge fallen tree Hank landed on the other side with a stumble and fought with himself to stay upright as he picked up speed before slowing again when he had to jump over a smaller yet steadily flowing offshoot from the main river.

Skidding on his knees on the other side the man was back up on his feet and running in a less than a second, spurred on by the sounds of his pursuers that were growing louder over the sound of rushing water.

Quickly, however, his pace was forced to slow as the ground became completely saturated with moisture taking up most of the effort he was putting forth to run and absorbing it. Sliding around in the black mud Hank looked around realizing most of the trees around had switched to willows, their long wispy leaves hanging down to the wet ground.

He also noticed that he had thankfully escaped the thick fog he had been blinded by before and could now see as far as the trees would allow him. Unfortunately for the man, all he saw was more willows, rotted out hickory trunks, and peat-like soil covered by patches as moss, he had charged himself into a floodplain, most likely supplied by an offshoot from the river.

Reluctantly slowing into a jog to avoid finding himself face down in the peat, Hank's boots splashed through the four to six inches of standing water loudly as he went, fighting the ground with every sliding step.

Despite being in a flood plain that was quickly revealing itself to be more of a swamp, the man noticed there were still high spots he could get to. All around him there were hills and mounds of dark forest soil spotted with trees and other shrubbery that would have been otherwise drowned out by the high water.

The horde fighting veteran knew that they would be upon him soon if he didn’t get to somewhere where he could get some solid ground under his feet. Even if the hill didn’t give him a long run of land to guide him out of the wetland it would at least give him a vantage point to see what direction he needed to head and what was coming after him.

Eyes locked onto just such a hill Hank made a B-line for its slope in a clumsy jog that quickly devolved into a fast walk as the water level he pushed through started to rise. Before he knew it the shin high water turned into waist deep water and then chest deep water.

Carbine held at shoulder level as Hank powered through the water and mud that threatened to suction onto him and not let go, the human breathed heavily from exertion, every part of his legs and torso burning in pain.

Grunting with each step Hank was forced to stop as the muck at the bottom of the wetland grabbed onto his left foot and didn’t let go. Wiggling his leg while pulling the appendage finally worked free, sending him stumbling forward half a step.

Already half turned around from the stumble Hank turned the rest of the way just as he heard a large splash from a Shucking jumping in the water after him. While he didn’t know just what was around him and didn’t want to fire his weapon as a result he also knew that he didn’t have time to dally with his knife.

Holding the carbine just above the steadily flowing water around him Hank aimed and with a crack put a round in the only exposed part of the stalker’s body, the forehead, causing a ripple to spread in the water from the small concussion of the muzzle held just above the surface.

Just as the body started to float down stream and the man started to catch his breath more of the stalkers and now regulars came crashing through the mud and water, slipping and falling all the while.

Thwk-Thwk---Thwk-Thwk-Thwk-Thwk Hank’s carbine repeated each time he squeezed the trigger, taking each shot methodically, switching from target to target like a well oiled machine. Dropping a wolf each time the man realized he was doing nothing but waste time and ammo as more wolves filtered in from behind the ones he shot.

Targeting the nearest wolf to him next, Hank moved his supporting hand from its spot on the midlength handguard and instead wrapped it around the mag well, using his thumb to push on the bottom part of the bolt catch.

Centering the dot on its upper chest right as it primed itself to leap into the water after him, Hank squeezed the trigger putting a round right into the bread basket causing the hell spawn to hit the water with a series of weak kicks and tremors before going still. Simultaneously the bolt of his AR locked to the rear with an empty chamber and stayed out of battery due to his thumb pressing in on the bolt catch.

While usually unwise to purposely put your weapon out of battery in a fight Hank had a good reason as he turned and did his best to dive into the water, hoping he could reach the slope of the shore before the Shuck’s reached him.

With the added weight and drag of not only his gear but clothes the fifty feet of slowly running water seemed like an ocean as he pushed and pulled himself through the water with all his might. Heart thundering in his chest Hank was happy no longer upset that he ended up not having the time to repair his tattered plate carrier and was without it and its weight. The heavy bitch would’ve surely drowned him if he still had it on even if it left his torso uncovered besides the old woodland BDU he had on.

Just as the exertion became too much and his pace threatened to slow, Hank's hand slapped the wet soil of the bank much to his relief. Hauling his soaked self up onto the soil with heaving breaths and tired limbs Hank coughed as he stumbled to his feet with the aid of his left hand as his right held his AR with the muzzle pointed to the sky.

The bolt still locked to the rear the water that had filled the barrel and suppressor flowed out freely from the open chamber. Hank was no newbie to taking a swim with various weapons and he knew the repercussions of firing a gas operated weapon that was full of water, especially if it was suppressed.

Not only did suppressing a mid length AR over gas it greatly making it all the more likely the gas tube would blow up if it were blocked with water, turning your semi auto or full auto rifle into a makeshift bolt action, the baffles inside the suppressor could hold onto some of the water even without the vacuum effect a closed chamber could have reducing the suppression effect while also increasing the chance a bullet would impact one of the baffles inside the can royally fucking up the suppressor and your day.

Long story short; Hank pushed himself up the incline of the hill, giving the carbine two rough shakes before rolling it over in his hands and inspecting the chamber for any debris that would cause issues. Nothing of the sort the man held the rifle regularly and gave the bolt release a hard smack with his left palm.

Nothing but the beautiful sound of bolt dropping on nothing but round and chamber Hank’s face pulled into a wide smile as he then hit the forward assist with the meat of his right hand like he had been trained to.

“Good girl.” The man laughed breathlessly as he rushed up the hill.

Completely gassed out from the swim and added water weight from his clothes and gear Hank reluctantly slowed to a stop twenty feet from the crest of the hill and took a knee.

Gasping for breath Hank swiveled on his knee to face back down the hill and water. If he was running he didn’t need to be shooting but if he wasn’t moving then he definitely did, and sure enough there were still Shucks pushing through the water in an effort to catch up with him.

Despite being far from his best when it came to stability Hank still found it easy to put a little red dot on a head and execute, the Shuck’s slow speed in the water definitely helped as well. Happily giving the Shuck’s their own D-Day experience as he caught his breath Hank soon found himself out of targets and lowered the red dot from his eye idly removing the somewhat spent magazine out of the carbine and re-indexing it into his first magazine pouch rounds up before inserting a full mag back into the rifle.

Watching the bodies lazily drift downstream Hank brought his gaze to the opposite side of the marsh and stream where thirty or so Shucks stood staring at him, heaving just like he had been. While it was strange to see Shuck’s not just rushing headlong into a fight he guessed the combined threat of him and the water was enough to make them think twice about frontally attacking him.

He could tell they wanted to, a few of them were fidgeting forwards, jumping forward then back as they thought about trying him. Hank could also see them eyeing their dead brother’s and sister’s bodies floating past reinforcing just how little of a chance they had.

Rising back to his feet, breath mostly returned Hank looked over the amassed Shucks on the other bank seeing only two stalkers remaining, their small beady eyes nearly impossible to see from the distance. Taking a second to think about the possible chance that ponies felt the same way about his eyes that he did about Shuck's, the man rid himself of the thought and raised his carbine once more.

Centering the red dot on the first stalker the man tightened his trigger finger.

“Fuck-” Thwk, the carbine gently bucked as the man switched to the other stalker, “You.” Thwk-

Lowering the weapon once more while putting it back on safe Hank looked over the water to one dead stalker and another that he must have hit low as it jumped around and rolled in a panic as it screamed before going quiet and motionless. He really hated stalkers, even more than breakers, they were much more annoying to deal with due to their coupled speed and intelligence even when compared to the breaker’s durability and lethality.

He had gotten lucky despite having been soaked from head to toe. If the hunting parties had been a little more concentrated there would have been no way he could have alluded confrontation and eventual encirclement.

However, just because he had gotten away for the moment didn’t mean he was in the clear; he still needed to keep moving and get set back on the right course. Keeping the rifle at low ready as he turned and started his way up the remaining few feet to the crest of the hill Hank eventually reached the top and laid down on his stomach only peaking his helmet and eyes over the side. With no visible threats or evidence of previous presence and also no vantage to see over the landscape Hank crested the hill with a grunt and started his way through the brush he had grown accustomed to in the Everfree. A machete would’ve been a good inclusion to his kit, or hell even that minotaur short sword he “acquired.”

No point in mulling over what could’ve been Hank reached for his compass and map pocket on his left BDU arm as pushed through the last of the brush to a vantage point before stopping, his arms going slack.

“Shit.”

I kinda skimmed through this and corrected a few punctuation errors but editing isn't fun so I stopped pretty quickly. At this point none of you are here for correct grammar and shit anyhow.

I hope you you guys like this chapter and can find yourselves immersed in it. I'm trying really hard to be as descriptive as possible with the environments and such but I also realize that each reader is going to have a different mental image for everything. Unless I go full Tolkien and write 3 pages describing every little thing, and I'm not gonna do that.

Also I do have some ideas for other stories and think I may try to get them out eventually. I just need to figure out how to make things happen in 10k words or less in a consistent manner, it just doesn't come naturally to me.

Which is better? Frogs or toads? Like the comment below with the corresponding creature. You can like both but dislikes on either comment will not be counted into the tally, only likes.

Failure to follow these simple rules and placing a dislike either on frogs or toads will result in me thinking you're retarded.

That is all

Frosch oder Kröte???????

Oh mein Gott! Diese Höhle ist voller Frösche und Kröten!!!!!! Sehr gut.