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Brief
Run. Run. Run.
Is all you can think of as you force yourself to run through the thicket. But you were not here a moment ago—right? Why are you here? As you snap a branch running past it, you notice movement along the tree, but you don’t stop. You see sunlight, just a little farther. And there you go. You burst through the wall of trees and plant yourself on the ground… This is not my home. A jungle of greens and browns opens up to a large field of tall, brownish grass up to your shins, slightly damp soil slipping around your shoes. The ground makes its way forward, revealing a…town…as it seems. The jungle continues out to your left side right up until the edge of the village, a flash of blue visible just between their edges. Off to the right is a continued plain-looking field. The grass does nothing more than continue until you can see it no longer. And when that grass meets the sky, it looks beautiful, but not in the way you would expect. There is a darkness of to the right, an unnatural darkness that seems to peak over just the horizon, swallowing everything past it. But the darkness is not the only thing, a bright light emanates from your left, almost touching the horizon of your other side. It doesn’t look like the sun, not in its size—too large—not in color—too orange—and not in heat—too cold. You suddenly realize there is a chill in the air, not one carried by wind or clouds, but one permeating all around you. This bugs you because, as you know it, light produces heat when you bathe in it, but it does nothing of the sort. Then, looking off to the left, you notice a small figure moving towards you, slowly—fast?
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A New World
Run. Run. Run. Is all you can think of as you force yourself to run through the thicket. But you were not here a moment ago—right? Why are you here? As you snap a branch running past it, you notice movement along the tree, but you don’t stop. You see sunlight, just a little farther. And there you go. You burst through the wall of trees and plant yourself on the ground… This is not my home. A jungle of greens and browns opens up to a large field of tall, brownish grass up to your shins, slightly damp soil slipping around your shoes. The ground makes its way forward, revealing a…town…as it seems. The jungle continues out to your left side right up until the edge of the village, a flash of blue visible just between their edges. Off to the right is a continued plain-looking field. The grass does nothing more than continue until you can see it no longer. And when that grass meets the sky, it looks beautiful, but not in the way you would expect. There is a darkness of to the right, an unnatural darkness that seems to peak over just the horizon, swallowing everything past it. But the darkness is not the only thing, a bright light emanates from your left, almost touching the horizon of your other side. It doesn’t look like the sun, not in its size—too large—not in color—too orange—and not in heat—too cold. You suddenly realize there is a chill in the air, not one carried by wind or clouds, but one permeating all around you. This bugs you because, as you know it, light produces heat when you bathe in it, but it does nothing of the sort. Then, looking off to the left, you notice a small figure moving towards you, slowly—fast?
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321The Devastatingly Brutal Victory Party.
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