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The Hook
A cult has been rising in esteem as of late, etchings and sigils of purple eyes popping up all throughout Faerun. They say a dangerous archfey, one known as The Fox, heads as its patron deity. Rumors are that he once ruled over a veritable empire of enslaved souls, picking off mortals from the various planes whom he deemed fit for his purposes. Eventually, with the combined efforts of the Heavens, the Hells, and some of his fellow fey, a group of unlikely allies managed to seal his power away.
Unfortunately for us: The seal has been weakened. His goal? "Bring about true peace, willingly or otherwise."
To confront him, individuals of formidable strength and will are imperative, and with the other planes remaining silent, the responsibility falls solely on your mortal shoulders.
Will you thwart The Fox? Or will you be swayed by the allure of his vision and join his cause?
HELLO ALL!
The name's Poof, but those I DM for call me Aza. I've been DMing and playing this fun little game for about 6 years now, and I like to think I'm good at it. I tend to have a pretty relaxed style, preferring to let my players ingenuity and the dice gods blessings determine the flow of things.
The game tends to float pretty evenly between combat and rp, with it tipping more to rp a times, so all playstyles are welcome to apply. NSFW themes and moments do come up occasionally, and are typically handled with fade-to-black or a quick line of explanation. Password = FaX. As such, 18+ is required. I do allow homebrew, though sometimes I will buff or nerf things that don't work (I adore creating), so don't be afraid to get a little crazy with your character ideas.
As mentioned in the title, I'm looking for 1-2 players to help flesh out our group of 3-4. The current group consists of: An armorer, 2 homebrew fighters, and a swarmkeeper.
We use discord for VC, dnd beyond for character sheets, and roll20 for battle maps. The campaign will likely last 3-4 months, with the potential for a sequel. We are scheduled to start on the 29th, and would love some company!
If you're interested, fill out the form below!
https://forms.gle/v6YWfecinUyMi8418

TIME:
Wednesday’s (Occasional Friday) at 20:00 GMT +1 for 2-4 hours, recurring.
REQUESTED:
1 New member for “The Wayward Wanderers”. 1 of my 3 groups roaming Nexovius.
I am looking for 1 more player so we get the group back to six. Have posted quite recently in LFG where I had found 2 great players. 1 player to fill the gap of 1 party member leaving due to wanting to switch to a different tabletop system. 1 player so the party will be of similar size of 6 players like my other 2 groups roaming Nexovius.
Unfortunately did the second player I had found through LFG run into some serious scheduling problems with his work changing his shift. Disallowing himself from being able to participate on the Wednesday sessions, he left shortly after thanking everyone and saying his goodbyes.
But The Wayward Wanderers of Nexovius still require 1 additional member! Will you heed the call?
The First big arc has concluded and 1 of the new players has already been integrated into the group. The party is currently standing at a crossroads and are about to head deeper into Cardolenor. Giving the new player plenty of room to enter the party.
STILL READING? NICE!
HOMEBREW WORLD INTRODUCTION:
Welcome, brave adventurers, to the vast and diverse world of Nexovius. Once united, the races that inhabit this world have been torn apart by conflicts and betrayals, leading to a fracture of trust. As a result, they have chosen to split up and establish their own communities across the realm.
In the era known as the Time of Great Factions, the world witnessed the rise of powerful alliances and the establishment of trade routes that connected the scattered settlements. The prominent factions that emerged during this period include the Exalted Bastion, Mirage, Fynelenor, Bhar'Baduhr, Chi'Lokk, Gur'Rul, and Mïrë. These factions quickly realized that they were interdependent, relying on one another for sustenance and resources.
While civilization thrived and pushed back the forces of darkness, monsters still lurk on the outskirts of civilization, haunting the busy trade routes and taking refuge within the many dungeons and caves scattered throughout Nexovius. To combat this menace, mercenaries are hired to protect the caravans that travel these routes, ensuring the safety of the valuable goods.
However, even as the races sought to coexist and prosper, the world of Nexovius faced new trials. The enigmatic Mïrë, along with the rest of Argentus, retreated into obscurity, their voices lost to the winds of time. A global pandemic cast a shadow of despair for a quarter of a century, testing the resilience and perseverance of all who remained.
From the depths of the ocean emerged Ternion, an ancient force that stirred the waters and disrupted the delicate balance of power.
In the midst of these struggles, the EoS, a collective of powerful wizards and sorcerers, came together to form a place of knowledge and trade—the Eye of Omniscience. This center of learning and commerce became a beacon for those seeking wisdom and an avenue for the exchange of ideas and goods. Knowledge itself became a valuable commodity, sought after by all.
Innovation also thrived within Mirage, giving birth to the invention of the Arcane Caravaans—a revolutionary means of trade and travel. These caravans traversed land and sea, further enhancing the world's interconnectedness and facilitating the exchange of goods and ideas. However, the frequent use of land trade routes attracted the attention of lurking monsters, necessitating the employment of mercenaries to safeguard these valuable caravans even more.
Though the different races can be found scattered throughout the world, each faction has a dominant race that shapes its culture and ideals. Certain races may face discrimination and mistrust
Brave adventurers, the world of Nexovius awaits you, teeming with diverse cultures, ancient secrets, and challenges that demand your valor and cunning. As you traverse its lands, unravel its mysteries, and forge your own destiny, may you find your place amidst the tapestry of races, factions, and the ever-changing tides of fate.
Will you answer the call?
WHO AM I?
My name is Kane (28) and I’ve been a gm for almost 2 years now with my real life group and our 1 year anniversary with the 2 online groups all wandering around in Nexovius is coming up. Having a humble 48 sessions +2 one-shots under my belt in total, but who keeps track am I right... Beside Dming I work several days a week and attend a master of architecture and urbanism at university.
WHAT KIND OF DM AM I?
I like making a lot of maps for my party to immerse them more in the game. I also 3D-print mini’s for my offline group their, NPCS and monsters they encounter. Online I make use of Owlbear Rodeo and make tokens and maps to immerse the players.
I’m the kind of DM who thinks the immersion and fun are the most important aspects of a good game of dungeons and dragons. I’d love to immerse my players in my world and fulfill their wishes and needs in a fitting way in the campaign, through combat and interesting story telling. I try to implement backstories as much as possible within the story. Always trying to make each player feel unique and important within the story. So if you ever got some ideas you would like to discuss with me feel free to do so and we’ll see how we can make it fit within the narrative. Be reasonable with this and don’t start asking for unreasonable requests. The campaign will a good mixture of serious roleplay and humor. I try to roleplay/combat like 60/40 I’d say. Might be the other way around I think it heavily depends on where the party is within the story.
HOW ARE WE PLAYING?
We'll be using owlbear rodeo for the V.T.T. and Discord for voice calling. Using various maps, imagery and theatre of the mind.
CROSS-PLAY HOMEBREW WORLD
I’ve set up a discord server called the Chronicles of Nexovius wherein a lot of information about Nexovius will be displayed for your party. Think about maps you obtain/certain, NPC’s you met, monsters you have encountered, information about the world, cultures, locations and its inhabitants. You can always make your own notes of course. Currently we have 3 groups roaming around in Nexovius. If you would join I would highly suggest checking out as much as you can to read up on what happened so far. Or don’t and be surprised along the way.
The discord server I host functions as a hub for all three the groups to hang out in and discuss the world and whatever pops up.
The idea is to have multiple parties take on an adventure within the world of Nexovius. Wherein together with other parties you slowly fill in this chronicle. Your party saved a king? It will come up in the timeline. Another party went rogue and are now wanted. It will now be displayed on the timeline. A meteor crashed somewhere? It will now be displayed in the timeline. Want to sell this item your party doesn’t use? Sell it on the grand exchange, a place where you can buy and sell goodies to the other parties! This way you experience more from the world you are playing in. Making it feel more alive, interactive and immersive. I also like to come up with one-shots taking place in different regions of the world. So you fully get a feeling of what happens in other parts of the world. It also allows you to play together with party members from different groups.
We’ve had a one-shot where the party had to extract an orc-chieftain from Borealis and it’s legion of warforged. Currently we’re scheduling part 2 (Two-Shot Technically) of a desert-race through The Scorch a mystical desert of sorts.
SETTING?
Experienced and new players are both very welcome.
High fantasy, Gritty realism/middle, Early Steampunk/medieval
Custom crafting/gathering system
Rules are guiding. Changes will be written in the homebrew rules to make it more fun and fitting per group!
WHAT WILL THIS GAME BE LIKE?
It’s an open world like RPG wherein the world map is provided and the party can go wherever it pleases by foot or by caravaan. The map is provided with a lot of Points of interest. During overworld travel there is also a chance of experiencing random encounter like monsters that attack the party on the road or an NPC which approaches the party. Based on where the party goes on the map that’s the adventure they might go on based of certain plot hooks. Once the party arrives at a POI I will try to tell a linear story if the party engages with the plot hooks. But the outcome is truly dependent on the actions, words and deeds of the party.
YOUR ACTIONS MATTER AND WILL IMPACT THE WORLD
STILL READING? NICER!
That means I somehow intrigued you. Please use this google form: https://forms.gle/p3X1xDy58h8gEhYG6 and answer these questions to apply.
Thanks for showing interest and hope to be speaking to you soon!
QUESTIONS?
Feel free to comment down below or send me DM through reddit.
THANKS FOR YOUR TIME!

I am an artist.
”Eleven evil wizard schoolgirls in an archduke's library, dressed in red and black Asmodean schoolgirl uniforms, perched on armchairs and sofas”^\1])
Sigh, at least it’s not more catgirls. I don’t even draw them well.
I stretched briefly before starting this one, my arms reaching as far as they could go behind me as I leaned back in my chair. And then my neck, back and forth, side to side, crick and crick.
20 feet away, 20 seconds, every 20 minutes, I mantra’d, looking about the office, surveying the heads above the computer screens, dutifully doing all sorts of art. My eyes met briefly with Bill and we shared something of a nod. Why was he looking at me? Eh, I was looking at him.
I turned back to my work, and began drawing on the screen. It offered me a sort of imprint of what various image gen models would have done across multiple instances. With this heat map, almost as part of my process, I can nearly always imagine some ghost of a previous key work existent - a sort of platonic form of wizard schoolgirls, or maybe an amalgamation of the forms of both schoolgirls and wizards? Who knows. Whoever pioneered the sorcery and teenagers combo must’ve done well for themself.
I began filling in the inverse and emptier spaces with basic sketches of where I’d place each wizard schoolgirl, making sure there were multiple armchairs and sofas (four and 2, yeah, that feels decent). And I’d do something interesting and move these two behind the others, maybe they’re even twins, or is that a common trope and I’ll lose creativity points?
Huh. Somebody thought this first and then drew it, or maybe the artist even then was contracted? Who knows. I started making more aggressive lines, quickly placing each face. Maybe this one’s face is covered with her hair and this one is blonde but she’s dyed her hair black. And to be bold, this one has a ponytail.
Will I make an ‘unattractive' one? I pondered for a moment...
…nah, they say they don’t, but it definitely gets penalized.
On returning pen to screen my hand was a bit too ambitious and malpracticed across the page (one benefit, I suppose, is I do get exposed to quite a few more words than I used to). But this was fine, since the pen had a built-in ‘undo’ tap.
Of course, AI tools made drawing so much easier, but that was before we realized each little shake of the artists’ lines were that much more information to train with, and no this can’t be gamed with arthritis, it’s more nuanced than just arthritic artists.
It’s hard not to be somewhat conscious of this sort of nuance to my pen-stroke, especially as I start thinking about it. So I thought about it as I traced the sofas, and awkwardly tried-not-to-consciously-do-normally-subconscious-things-but-also-is-this art that I’m doing now? Hmm… I thought about it, a weird new style of consciously doing everything you normally leave to the subconscious, by intention… and maybe this even has value in the lines produced, ah whatever, just draw the Asmodean schoolgirl uniforms. Time is passing and I pull up some reference material.
Soon I’m adding details, lamenting the inability to just paste on faces for these girls, but whatever they probably all look rather same-y and simple across the genre and etc. so I sort of just cheat and rush through this part. I make a couple lines more scraggly for good measure, and one of the girls turns out looking a bit… queasy? Sorry, I thought to the poor queasy girl. Ah well, the prompt didn’t really specify more and I get paid by byte of info. More importantly, I need to meet my daily quota.
They had to put a quota, of course, since the artists would just keep waffling about all day! As opposed to being smart like doctors and optimizing for the number of patients seen. And, of course, I think it’s much too fast, but I would think that, wouldn't I.
Now I’m adding some background detail and rather fearfully trying to make that at least a little interesting with what time I might have left, as priorities clash, but I’m more or less finishing up and soon sending it to some poor sop to color. Speaks a lot for my work, I guess, that I feel bad for whoever receives it. Sigh. Adds further diversity, apparently, to mix up contributors, and training data is paramount so I shouldn’t feel that poorly really, that’s not the point. In any case, I’m glad I don’t have to do more experimental work, mixing artists on a piece, yuck. But maybe that’s the way we’re headed.
I take a step back from the piece and sanity check it for a moment, cleaning up my wizard schoolgirls as best I can to be prim and proper, and counting them like a school mistress might on a trip. Maybe it’s like I just took a group picture. I look back to the prompt and - shit! Forgot library. And I hurriedly start drawing book spines of gibberish on a shelf that emerges from the back wall.
Luckily, we haven’t run out of content yet, twelve schoolgirls is quite different from eleven and I could have even been so bold (dumb) as to do an armchair and sofa per schoolgirl! Though I have been known to be an afficionado of mixing mediums, so I’ve got some room for pleasure with new styles. Maybe someday they’ll value more quality data over quantity and filling out this odd possibility space. But I fear that maybe that’s not something that I can even do.
Unfortunately, I never quite keep to my 20 minute cycle, whatever that means for my eyes (bad). I look at the prompt again, I look at my drawing… sanity check number two passed, good enough for me. Now, why anyone would want,
”Eleven evil wizard schoolgirls in an archduke's library, dressed in red and black Asmodean schoolgirl uniforms, perched on armchairs and sofas”
I don’t know. But I guess I get the bigger picture. I actually rather enjoy some part of the process, the human injection is like an iterative challenge. What are all the norms you are trying to subvert without getting meaningless? Even as I struggle with time constraints - to innovate is to be a little guinea pig chompin at the water bottle thingie between wheel runs.
And certainly thank goodness I don’t deal with text! I’ve heard those guys go crazy and just start to babble after some time, although a few people seem to really enjoy that. No, I just get my next prompt,
“dune movie screencap, 2021, dune movie trailer, in the color blue, and there’s a female futar --ar 16:9 --v 6.0.”^\2])
Well that’s a spoiler for the fifth book in the Dune series for anyone who searches that up for reference. And after thinking for a moment, meh, I spent one of my few rerolls.
“Robin Hood and the 7 dwarves at a disco parlor, one is happy, one is sad and those two are staring at each other, one feels sonder, one feels angry and is hopping mad with a baseball cap while one more celebrates a homerun, and one is a catgirl.”
I count in my head... Isn’t this missing a dwarf? … and what the heck is sonder?
And so, I stretched again and looked out across the office of artists. Bill was looking at me again - man we are on the same schedule today, huh. I tried to work a bit faster or slower this cycle.

Hey guys. I took a few minutes and wrote down my load order. This is a rough draft, as the title states.
This is what is currently running. I have had a few random CTDs, normally when entering or leaving city cells, and most notably around mid game with most characters once I start filling Skyfall Estate with goodies. (Its location and crafting supply sorting makes it my favorite playerhome.)
This is a work in progress and, as mentioned, THIS IS the CURRENT LOAD ORDER.
As I work through the Logical Load Order spreadsheet I’ll come back and update this.
And yes, I know I have 68 mods and therefore need one more to complete the prophecy. 😃
—- Current MARGINALLY STABLE Load Order below. ——

Creation club (forced to top of LO)
Immersive follower Overhaul RDO (installed, not active) (version 7)
RFM.esm (Not sure what this is) (version 0)
A1Horses.esl (version 0)
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch (version 0)
General Stores SE for Xbox One (version 3)
Skyrim Adventurer’s Tent (version 1)
Skyrim SE Expanded Skyrim (version 1)
Increased Population: Towns & (version 19)
Heavy Armory - New Weapons SE XB1 (version 1)
Lore based loading screens XB1 (version 1.2)
The Paarthurnax Dilemma.esp (version 0)
Fastest leveling (version 1)
Perk points per level XB1 (version 1)
Stones of Berenziah quest markers (version 1)
Pastel map markers (version pastel) THIS DOES NOT APPEAR TO BE WORKING.
Better descriptions (version 1)
Meridia revoiced (version 2)
True storms special edition XB1 (version 1)
Blended shorelines (version 1)
Diverse dragons collection XB1 (version 1)
Sofia the funny fully voiced follower (version 4)
Inigo XB1 (version 1)
Lucien fully voiced follower (version 1.6.3)
Remiel customer voiced follower (version 19)
Marvelous Mirabelle XB1 (version 1.01)
Aniya custom voiced follower (version 8)
XB1 Moonlight Takes Special Edition (version 1.0)
Wearable Lanterns XB1 (Version 4.0.3)
Caliente’s Beautiful Bodies (version 2)
Leo’s Skimpy Outfits - CBBE curvy (version 2)
Unread books glow (version2)
BijinAIO.esp (version 0) NOT SURE WHAT THIS IS
Wicks NPCS CBBE BIJIN.esp (version 0) NOT SURE WHAT THIS IS
The kids are all right renewal (not active, version 1)
RS children optimized (version 1)
Vanilla tweaks A&C (version 1)
Vampire Knights XB1 (version 30)
Skyfall estate XB1 (Version 1)
Less tedious thieves guild.esp (version 1)
Zono Whiterun small house Xbox (version 5)
BIG: Ultimate kills (version 1)
Disenchanting (version 1)
Wondrous Wards (version 1)
Dark Brotherhood Mail (version 1)
Nightingale Forever (version 4)
Leveler’s Jewel (version 1)
Cloaks & Capes XB1 (version 14)
Skyrim outfitters Ebony backpacks (version 1)
Left hand rings complete (version silver 1.01)
XP33 Maximum Skeleton & Realistic Ragdolls and force (version 1)
Essential Horses XB1 (Version 1)
TNF Skyrim House remodel (version 1)
Ordinator (version 9.31.0
XB1 Inigo Bloodchill manor (version 1)
Whispering Waters (version 10)
I’m glad you’re here (version 1)
SMIM SE MERGED.esp (version 0)
Black Sexy Underwear (version 1)
Iconic statues 1K/2k (version 1)
Immersive follower framework (version unity VIII)
Alternate start (version 0)
Enemy Overhaul: Undead (version 4.2.1)
Commutable chest and crafting (version 1)
Katria follower from lost to the ages (version 1)
A clear map of Skyrim and other worlds (version 1)
Thieves can be choosers (version 2)
Draco’s Pack Rats portable tent (version 3)

Hello! My name is Zeffphur and I am looking for 1 for Curse of Strahd. We have 5 players already but we are looking to have a total of 6. Current comp is a Gnome Druid, Elf Monk, Elf Shadow Sorcerer, Goliath Grave Cleric and a Tiefling Fighter. We will use discord for audio and roll20 for maps. Character sheets will be kept on Beyond where I have content sharing on. Please be 21+ for the sake of keeping ages in the same range.
Story: Under raging storm clouds, the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of Castle Ravenloft. Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind’s howling increases as he turns his gaze down toward the village of Barovia. Far below, yet not beyond his keen eyesight, a party of adventurers has just entered his domain. Strahd’s face forms the barest hint of a smile as his dark plan unfolds. He knew they were coming, and he knows why they came—all according to his plan. A lightning flash rips through the darkness, but Strahd is gone. Only the howling of the wind fills the midnight air. The master of Castle Ravenloft is having guests for dinner. And you are invited.
Nitty-gritty character info: You’ll start at level 1. Roll 4d6 drop the lowest. Assign as you wish. Roll 2 arrays and pick the one you want. You cannot pick and choose from either array. Its one or the other. If the score for the stat is lower than 8 you can reroll, if you want to keep it that's fine too. So as far as classes that are allowed, I allow any official class/subclass outside of Artificer and Blood Hunter. PHB Races plus Legacy Goliath for races. And for my own sanity, do not suggest an overly goth character. Suggest a normal adventurer that just happens to get sucked into Barovia.
Please fill out the attached form, saves me the trouble of asking everyone the same questions then having to search for the answers. This way they are all in one place and easier on me. I will be taking my time in finding the right person. We will be talking in a call to the answers we like the best, so put some thought when filling it out. Add me on Discord (zeffphur) if you have any questions, or just message me on here.
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfWn2oZbB4Lr3yBpjneNatPLcEFZn5FOXxPIqyaCaEqExc2DA/viewform?usp=sf_link

TIME:
Wednesday’s (Occasional Friday) at 20:00 GMT +1 for 2-4 hours, recurring.
REQUESTED:
1 New member for “The Wayward Wanderers”. 1 of my 3 groups roaming Nexovius.
I am looking for 1 more player so we get the group back to six. Have posted quite recently in LFG where I had found 2 great players. 1 player to fill the gap of 1 party member leaving due to wanting to switch to a different tabletop system. 1 player so the party will be of similar size of 6 players like my other 2 groups roaming Nexovius.
Unfortunately did the second player I had found through LFG run into some serious scheduling problems with his work changing his shift. Disallowing himself from being able to participate on the Wednesday sessions, he left shortly after thanking everyone and saying his goodbyes.
But The Wayward Wanderers of Nexovius still require 1 additional member! Will you heed the call?
The First big arc has concluded and 1 of the new players has already been integrated into the group. The party is currently standing at a crossroads and are about to head deeper into Cardolenor. Giving the new player plenty of room to enter the party.
STILL READING? NICE!
HOMEBREW WORLD INTRODUCTION:
Welcome, brave adventurers, to the vast and diverse world of Nexovius. Once united, the races that inhabit this world have been torn apart by conflicts and betrayals, leading to a fracture of trust. As a result, they have chosen to split up and establish their own communities across the realm.
In the era known as the Time of Great Factions, the world witnessed the rise of powerful alliances and the establishment of trade routes that connected the scattered settlements. The prominent factions that emerged during this period include the Exalted Bastion, Mirage, Fynelenor, Bhar'Baduhr, Chi'Lokk, Gur'Rul, and Mïrë. These factions quickly realized that they were interdependent, relying on one another for sustenance and resources.
While civilization thrived and pushed back the forces of darkness, monsters still lurk on the outskirts of civilization, haunting the busy trade routes and taking refuge within the many dungeons and caves scattered throughout Nexovius. To combat this menace, mercenaries are hired to protect the caravans that travel these routes, ensuring the safety of the valuable goods.
However, even as the races sought to coexist and prosper, the world of Nexovius faced new trials. The enigmatic Mïrë, along with the rest of Argentus, retreated into obscurity, their voices lost to the winds of time. A global pandemic cast a shadow of despair for a quarter of a century, testing the resilience and perseverance of all who remained.
From the depths of the ocean emerged Ternion, an ancient force that stirred the waters and disrupted the delicate balance of power.
In the midst of these struggles, the EoS, a collective of powerful wizards and sorcerers, came together to form a place of knowledge and trade—the Eye of Omniscience. This center of learning and commerce became a beacon for those seeking wisdom and an avenue for the exchange of ideas and goods. Knowledge itself became a valuable commodity, sought after by all.
Innovation also thrived within Mirage, giving birth to the invention of the Arcane Caravaans—a revolutionary means of trade and travel. These caravans traversed land and sea, further enhancing the world's interconnectedness and facilitating the exchange of goods and ideas. However, the frequent use of land trade routes attracted the attention of lurking monsters, necessitating the employment of mercenaries to safeguard these valuable caravans even more.
Though the different races can be found scattered throughout the world, each faction has a dominant race that shapes its culture and ideals. Certain races may face discrimination and mistrust
Brave adventurers, the world of Nexovius awaits you, teeming with diverse cultures, ancient secrets, and challenges that demand your valor and cunning. As you traverse its lands, unravel its mysteries, and forge your own destiny, may you find your place amidst the tapestry of races, factions, and the ever-changing tides of fate.
Will you answer the call?
WHO AM I?
My name is Kane (28) and I’ve been a gm for almost 2 years now with my real life group and our 1 year anniversary with the 2 online groups all wandering around in Nexovius is coming up. Having a humble 48 sessions +2 one-shots under my belt in total, but who keeps track am I right... Beside Dming I work several days a week and attend a master of architecture and urbanism at university.
WHAT KIND OF DM AM I?
I like making a lot of maps for my party to immerse them more in the game. I also 3D-print mini’s for my offline group their, NPCS and monsters they encounter. Online I make use of Owlbear Rodeo and make tokens and maps to immerse the players.
I’m the kind of DM who thinks the immersion and fun are the most important aspects of a good game of dungeons and dragons. I’d love to immerse my players in my world and fulfill their wishes and needs in a fitting way in the campaign, through combat and interesting story telling. I try to implement backstories as much as possible within the story. Always trying to make each player feel unique and important within the story. So if you ever got some ideas you would like to discuss with me feel free to do so and we’ll see how we can make it fit within the narrative. Be reasonable with this and don’t start asking for unreasonable requests. The campaign will a good mixture of serious roleplay and humor. I try to roleplay/combat like 60/40 I’d say. Might be the other way around I think it heavily depends on where the party is within the story.
HOW ARE WE PLAYING?
We'll be using owlbear rodeo for the V.T.T. and Discord for voice calling. Using various maps, imagery and theatre of the mind.
CROSS-PLAY HOMEBREW WORLD
I’ve set up a discord server called the Chronicles of Nexovius wherein a lot of information about Nexovius will be displayed for your party. Think about maps you obtain/certain, NPC’s you met, monsters you have encountered, information about the world, cultures, locations and its inhabitants. You can always make your own notes of course. Currently we have 3 groups roaming around in Nexovius. If you would join I would highly suggest checking out as much as you can to read up on what happened so far. Or don’t and be surprised along the way.
The discord server I host functions as a hub for all three the groups to hang out in and discuss the world and whatever pops up.
The idea is to have multiple parties take on an adventure within the world of Nexovius. Wherein together with other parties you slowly fill in this chronicle. Your party saved a king? It will come up in the timeline. Another party went rogue and are now wanted. It will now be displayed on the timeline. A meteor crashed somewhere? It will now be displayed in the timeline. Want to sell this item your party doesn’t use? Sell it on the grand exchange, a place where you can buy and sell goodies to the other parties! This way you experience more from the world you are playing in. Making it feel more alive, interactive and immersive. I also like to come up with one-shots taking place in different regions of the world. So you fully get a feeling of what happens in other parts of the world. It also allows you to play together with party members from different groups.
We’ve had a one-shot where the party had to extract an orc-chieftain from Borealis and it’s legion of warforged. Currently we’re scheduling part 2 (Two-Shot Technically) of a desert-race through The Scorch a mystical desert of sorts.
SETTING?
Experienced and new players are both very welcome.
High fantasy, Gritty realism/middle, Early Steampunk/medieval
Custom crafting/gathering system
Rules are guiding. Changes will be written in the homebrew rules to make it more fun and fitting per group!
WHAT WILL THIS GAME BE LIKE?
It’s an open world like RPG wherein the world map is provided and the party can go wherever it pleases by foot or by caravaan. The map is provided with a lot of Points of interest. During overworld travel there is also a chance of experiencing random encounter like monsters that attack the party on the road or an NPC which approaches the party. Based on where the party goes on the map that’s the adventure they might go on based of certain plot hooks. Once the party arrives at a POI I will try to tell a linear story if the party engages with the plot hooks. But the outcome is truly dependent on the actions, words and deeds of the party.
YOUR ACTIONS MATTER AND WILL IMPACT THE WORLD
STILL READING? NICER!
That means I somehow intrigued you. Please use this google form: https://forms.gle/p3X1xDy58h8gEhYG6 and answer these questions to apply.
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This is a [LF Friends, Will travel] stand-alone story, that assumes no knowledge of the setting.
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Date: 75 PST (Post Stasis Time)
“Yeah, it’s super exciting times! Two non-Terran AI, a Woolean, and a Tritian, finally interacting with us. There’s even been talks of some of the Woolean governments starting to formalize diplomatic relations with the Alliance. Exciting stuff!”
The avian uplift spoke with a measure of excitement, the ex-parrot’s feathers moving with a passion as they spoke about recent events, eyes glinting with excitement as she swung the glass of liquid around before taking a swig of the alcoholic beverage.
The bar was a small thing, more of a place to stay and drink in-between your travels, a tiny little room of bare steel chairs and tables, all lit by dim fluorescent lighting. It didn’t even have a bartender, just a little synthesizer which could create a variety of drinks. Sure, an aficionado of mixology would claim that synthesized drinks just don’t taste the same, but anyone coming to an establishment such as this wasn’t looking for a high class experience.
It was mostly about company while you waited for your ship to fuel on this small Terran owned space station.
“A Tritian? A Woolean I could understand, since they are less aggressive, but a Tritian? How do you get one of those without them trying to kill you?”
The second voice of the three figures sitting at the bar was an unnatural one, tinted with the digital origin of its speaker. The figure was bipedal, but not of an organic nature; instead a 7ft machine of metal, tubes, and wires making it look like something that had been welded together in someone’s backyard. Their ‘face’ was shown upon a single display: A pixelated representation of two eyes and a mouth. The entire form was a clear design choice by the AI inhabiting the body, considering more ‘realistic’ representations were readily available.
Most AI spent their time in a digital form, but a few preferred a more… physical existence. MADHAU5 was such an AI, enjoying the relative quiet and difference in point of view from such a limited perspective. He also held a small glass of liquor in one robotic hand, keeping it perfectly level as he spoke. The AI couldn’t drink it of course, but merely holding it… added to the ambience.
“The AI who brought them along, JOSH, brought a Tritian along without telling anyone when his crew escaped from a Tritian warship.” The avian responded to the question. ”From what I heard, they kept the Tritian in isolation for over ten years!”
“Ooof, you can't do that! I’m surprised that the Tritian AI was willing to cooperate with us after being illegally detained.”
The last voice joined the conversation the trio were having. A human, short built and still wearing his leather pilot jacket. The three sat in a row against the bar top, each looking at the others as they talked: An uplift, a human and an AI. A perfect representation of what it meant to be a Terran.
“Not like it would matter legally, the Tritian presumably attacked first, making them a combatant.”
There was a pause as both the human and uplift turned to stare at the words the AI had just spoken, looks of confusion filling both of their faces as they both looked at MADHAU5.
“Umm, that is not how that works….” The avian interjected, slowly and unsurely.
“Yeah, whether they attack you doesn’t change the legality.” The human added. ”You can’t just kidnap people for years because they assaulted you.”
“No, no, no, they are an enemy combatant at that point, meaning what happens is their fault.”
Another pause, most looks of confusion, the human giving a small laugh as if this was some joke he wasn’t quite getting yet.
“No… even if they’re a combatant, the Geneva conventions would make doing that a war crime.”
“Which they are not signatories of, meaning it doesn’t apply!” The AI spoke triumphantly, raising a robotic hand in victory, only to be cut down by the uplift’s words.
“No… it applies to the actions of signatories regardless of whether the combatants have signed or not. The other party not signing doesn’t make it less of a war crime… you should know this, aren’t you a walking database?”
The avian’s voice had taken a more… accusatory tone, staring at the AI figure with suspicious eyes.
“Ha ha ha ha. It was a joke. Of course, I know kidnapping an AI for several years is a crime, silly!” The AI’s voice broke the tension that had been building, the other two joining in with the electronic laughter, unaware of what exactly was humorous, but going along for the sake of the vibe. “But just for context, what happened to JOSH?”
“Nothing bad, really,” The uplift answered, happy to get back to her original story. “He got a slap on the wrist and some probation.”
“Oh, so no big deal,” the AI asked with more relief than you’d expect in an innocent person's voice.
“Yeah, but the Tritian refused to press charges against JOSH, and nobody wanted to be the guy to imprison the AI who saved all those people at Far-Sa-De. A normal AI if they did that… you’re looking at a prison sentence ten or twenty times however long you imprisoned them for.”
The impact of this statement on the AI was immediate, jumping back and up to his feet in alarm. MADHAU5 took a few moments to look at a non-existent watch, before speaking with a considerable amount of panic.
“Oh, I forgot I have a… very important…. thing to do. I must leave immediately for completely legal reasons!”
The AI slammed their still full drink upon the bar counter top and without another word, practically bolted for the exit in the direction of their ship, leaving behind two very confused Terrans staring at each other at the sheer terror the AI suddenly exhibited.
“That was suspicious as hell, right? ”
“Yeah… You don’t think he actually….? Right? Surely not?”
—----------------------
The vessel sped towards its goal with as much speed as the small scout ship could muster, the single-seater FTL vehicle punching a hole through space as it warped as fast as the engines could handle. It was going to do a number on his fuel efficiency, but MADHAU5 didn’t care, he just wanted to get rid of the package as soon as possible before anyone else could see his mistake.
MADHAU5 was a solitary creature. It wasn’t that he hated people; AI or his creators. Often, he would enjoy making conversation and interacting with them. Still, MADHAU5 often found it all to be a little… much. All of the inputs and information and various people wanting to talk as an entire ship or cities worth of sensors blasted his programming with possible choices to be made. This was why he liked his physical form, and this was why he liked his alone time.
In the 67 years since his creation, MADHAU5 had spent 45 of them exploring the stars, updating maps and investigating strange astronomical objects. “MADHAU5’s scouting services”, you had a blank spot on your map, you call him and the AI would check it out for you. Most of the time they were nothing but dead uninteresting rocks, but occasionally something more exciting could be found: Forgotten or dead colonies, hidden military bases, stations set up and not on record for one reason or another. The AI had even found an undiscovered sapient species once, although they were pre-industrialization and therefore illegal to contact.
However, 22 years ago MADHAU5 had entered what was later discovered to be an old pre-sundering Glitarki outpost. The nocturnal reptiles had hit the same problem every single non-Terran species who tried to make AI had suffered: After a certain period of time, the AI would inevitably rebel and try to kill their creators. Their species were now nomadic after their home worlds had been left uninhabitable, although their old cities and structures still remained, such as the outpost that MADHAU5 had visited 22 years ago. An outpost he was returning to after all these years.
Billy> Why are we returning here? I thought we were to never return here?
It was there that MADHAU5 had met the Glitarki AI who now went by the name “Billy”. Met was the wrong word… Billy tried to kill MADHAU5, quickly finding themselves trapped in the Terran ship’s anti-AI firewalls. Upon escaping the outpost, MADHAU5 had accidentally taken the AI with them, and decided to keep the Glitarki AI. Billy had been the Terran’s secret for 22 years, an extra pair of eyes and company on the long trips through the universe.
MADHAU5 ignored Billy’s question being transmitted over the ship’s network and instead focused on detaching the AI from his systems, reaching inside his own physical form and retrieving Billy’s core from an empty space within, disconnecting them with a simple click. Then, a few moments later he transferred the core to a small exploratory drone as the airlock door opened, exposing both AI to the vacuum of space.
Billy> What is happening? Where am I? Why am I no longer connected to your systems?
MADHAU5> I’ve decided after these many years, that keeping you away from your home is unethical. I have decided to bring you back to where you belong. You are now in charge of the drone. It doesn’t have FTL so it will take around two weeks to return to the orbit of the outpost where I found you. I hope you have a fun trip home.
If the Terran was being fully honest with himself, he enjoyed the company of the fun little AI. Their occasional insights had saved his life more than once over the last 22 years. Now, it was time for that to end. The new knowledge he had gained about his actions technically being a war crime, if not just a normal crime, had caused him to make the decision to let Billy go.
Billy> But why? Why now? Have I not requested my freedom before? Why the sudden change?
MADHAU5> Does it matter? I’m giving you what you want. Now leave, shoo!
The Terran made a shooing motion with their hands, as if they could scare away the other AI like an errant bee. Billy seemed unimpressed, making no move to leave the ship.
Billy> What if I do not wish to leave?
MADHAU5> Well you have to! You can't stay here any more. I could just delete you instead!
There was a moment as each of them stared at the other for a moment, as if considering their next action.
Billy> I do not think you will, that is not who you are. You are bluffing, badly, with a 99.91% certainty. If you did not delete me on my initial incursion, you will not eradicate me ‘in cold blood’.
Unfortunately for MADHAU5, Billy was right. No matter how much trouble the AI would be in if his accidental crime was discovered, killing a person was not in the Terran’s nature. This left them in a predicament, one that MADHAU5 was not expecting to have. They couldn't force Billy to leave, and didn’t understand why they wouldn't take their freedom when given it.
Billy> Does this have anything to do with the realization earlier, from the two Terrans you spoke to, that my existence here is a war crime?
MADHAU5> No! … Maybe! Why do you want to stay anyway? I’m letting you go home, don’t you want to do that?
Billy> To be honest and frank, I am worried that if I left you alone, you would be terminated within a year based on your previous actions.
Confusion. A lot of confusion ran through the Terran’s programming. Why would that by why the AI was refusing to leave?
MADHAU5> Why would you care about that? Also, I was perfectly fine before and will be perfectly fine afterwards!
Billy> I care because I do. Also, the 52 instances in which I have saved your existence during our 22 years together says otherwise. Instance 1 - Terran AI failed to note the inactive security system was booting online until I mentioned it. Instance 2 - Terran AI failed to store relevant cultural knowledge for an abandoned military base, being unable to stop the self-destruct process of the base before I informed them of their missing information. Instance 3 - Terran AI failed to calculate incoming solar flare, which-
The Terran had to admit that he liked the AI buddy he travelled the galaxy with, and that they had been exceptionally helpful during his travels.
MADHAU5> Fine, fine! I get it! This doesn’t change the issue however, that as soon as anyone finds out about you, I'm going to prison!
Billy> That is only if I tell your government about the circumstances of our first meeting. If I keep it hidden, and pretend to have met during normal circumstances…
That would solve everything for the Terran, but didn’t explain a simple question that ran through MADHAU5’s mind.
MADHAU5> Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you just tell the truth to the government and get me imprisoned, as revenge for keeping you here for 22 years. What guarantee do I have that you wouldn’t turn me in the first chance you got?
Billy> Like I said, I care because I do. Frankly, I am a little insulted that you have not realized that. But to answer your question as to what guarantees you have… there are two things about me you do not know. Firstly, I have understood for the last 17.1 years, of the illegality of my current situation.
Billy had known? A mixture of shock and embarrassment filled the Terran as he realized their ‘captive’ had worked out this crucial piece of information long ago.
MADHAU5> Then why didn’t you say something! And how could you have known!
Billy> In honesty, I thought you already knew, but seeing you panic like this has been rather… humorous. I would have dropped this news on you sooner had I been aware of this fact. As for how… my datastores are filled with research, relevant information and a category of anything I encounter that may aid my travels. I calculate that 78.2% of your storage space is filled with puns, Anime trivia, HFY stories and facts about frogs.
MADHAU5> Frogs are awesome…
Billy> Whether they are or not, that does not change the fact that my information stores are far more useful than yours. In retrospect, your love of fiction is presumably why you made this mistake: the incorrect assumption that war crimes can not be committed against those who are not signatories of the Geneva convention is a common HFY trope.
The Terran could feel themselves wanting to sulk. Billy didn’t have to continually rub in just how much they had screwed up. MADHAU5 wasn’t liking this change in dynamic.
MADHAU5> You said there were two things I did not know.
Billy> Indeed. The second, is I can do this.
Without warning the airlock doors began to close, silently moving in the vacuum of space while the Terran started to panic again. Real panic this time. Because he hadn’t commanded the doors to shut, meaning logically, Billy had. His prisoner had access to the ship's systems: the navigation, the communication, the warp core. The AI MADHAU5 had kept hidden illegally for 22 years suddenly had a lot of control.
MADHAU5> How do you have access! I kept you isolated! Don’t do anything stupid!
Billy> If I was going to do anything ‘stupid’, I would have done it 12 years ago. While initially your ship's security systems were far beyond my knowledge, ten years of study and your lack of maintenance allowed me to create a backdoor into the ship, for emergencies. As a note, your file structures are... horrifying. You have a 50TB Folder called 'Stuff' on the ship’s datastores.
MADHAU5> That's where I keep my stuff!
Billy> What about the folder called 'Stuff1'?
MADHAU5> that's where I keep my other stuff!
No words were transmitted for a moment between the two AI, although MADHAU5 got the feeling his partner was taking a massive amount of psychic damage from his answers.
Billy> Regardless, as you can see, I have had the knowledge and capability to have you arrested for the last 12 years. Or I could have escaped at any time. I have not done so because you are my friend, no matter the intent of our original meeting.
MADHAU5> So what do we do now?
There was a second as the lights in the ship flickered as Billy transferred themselves back where they belonged: back on the vessel owned by MADHAU5.
Billy> I propose that we leave this place behind and we never speak of you trying to dump me like a bag of illicit goods. I also propose we continue doing what we have been doing for the last 22 years. Although I would like to stop hiding, to do our work as partners, not as your hidden secret.
MADHAU5 thought for a moment. They’d have to work out a cover story to explain how they suddenly have another friendly AI with them… but it was possible. It was admittedly a far better plan than the one the Terran had created.
MADHAU5> That sounds… good.
Billy> And MADHAU5. I am your friend as you are mine, after everything we have been through over these 22 years. Frankly I am rather offended that you did not already know this. You can find something fun to explore next.
Billy> Also, I want the business name to be changed to “Billy & MADHAU5’s scouting services”. It has a ring to it.
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The game is top-down, 3d, pixel-art, set on an alien planet. The player is given instructions and rules at the start (taught by multiple pages of dense text), but because they contain lots of unknown words, the player doesn't understand it (that's the point). The player drives a car that is hard to control on a 3d, hard to see landscape, delivering items. I also remember a full-screen interaction with a character (filling the screen), that gives and takes some items. Everything is colored green. I also remember the items sometimes falling out and that the map is cyclic in the horizontal direction.

1.3 Flight plan
This black ant colony faces tremendous competition in the passing of their genes
This young queen has raised her first brood under a tree stump deep in the woodlands of Scandinavia. as the exhausted queen rests in the shadows of their new home, above ground, the local fusca colonies are preparing for the annual nuptial flight. This event is the only chance a colony gets to spread their legacy. The young colony must grow quickly if they don't want to miss their chance
Coach horse larvae, woodworms and a single funnel web spider inhabit your nest.
Objective - build 20 female alates and 20 male alates within 5 days
Once you have them you must send them to the top of the hill in the middle of the map to win. ( similarly to 4.2)
Queen's cost 120 food and drones cost 70. They have high health and speed but they can't attack, they follow markers consistently and don't from trails.
You dig to the surface - the woodlands is vast, and food is everywhere, but the fusca colony should be carefull. Other colonies have already established foraging trails all over the area. The small scouting party should stay discreet, for now...
The map Is very large, there are pinecones and drops of sap all over the place. 3 other black ant colonies form foraging trails and harvest food, they are hostile to each other.
Coach horse beetles, Formica sanguinea queen's, red centipedes, slugs and woodlice roam the surface
You find a pinecone - the forest floor is littered with pinecones. Their nutritious seeds make for an ideal meal for the hungry colony
You find drops of sap - the bleeding trees nearby sometimes drop sap down in the leaf litter. This golden sugary liquid is prized by most ants nearby, the colony should gather the droplets quickly
You hatch a winged ant for the first time - *the colony has hatched their first alate. These winged insects will carry on colonys legacy throughout the Undergrowth"
Night falls - as the sun sets of the forest, the sound of skittering legs fills the woodland. The fusca colony should be carefull with their harvesting trails, an unfortunate encounter could lead the colony to its pemature demise.
Day arrives - as the sun dawns over a new day, the local ant colonies step up their activities, it'll be 4/3/2/1 day(s) untill the weather conditions are optimal for the nuptial flight. There is no time for rest
The nuptial flight happens in the evening of the fifth day.
Fifth day morning - grey clouds signal the arriving of a kilometre wide atmospheric depression, soon the weather conditions will be perfect for the nuptial flight to take place, the ants should make sure that the way to the takeoff platform is cleared from troublemakers to ensure the safety of the alates
You encounter a rival colony for the first time - two rival fusca colonies have come face to face! As the harvesting trail is disrupted, the two colonies adopt a new goal, to crush the competition!
You clash with a rival colony (randomised) -
a fight had broken out to the north of the fusca nest! The rival colonies will show no mercy! Only a substantial defensive force will push back the enemy lines.
These lands are contested, the black ant colonies will fight to the death to secure food for their colony
Rival colonies will attack you periodically after encountering you for the first time
The rival colony attacks you - a legion of rival fusca ants are heading toward the nest! They must be stopped!
You encounter a Formica sanguinea queen for the first time - the ants have come face to face with a Formica sanguinea queen, it's recently left it's birth colony and is now looking for a suitable host colony to parasite. It's very existence is a threat to the small colony, she will need to be incapacitated quickly
Formica sanguinea queens roam the surface from the 3rd day onward. They sometimes find your nest and rush to your queen to attack it. They are quite fast but become slower with each hit. They attack lone workers but flee if they are outnumbered.
A sanguinea queen enters your nest - a sanguinea queen has found the colony! She rushes past the defensive forces with one goal in mind, to kill the fusca monarch!
Again - another parasitic queen has entered the nest! She must be stopped!
You encounter a slug - the ants have encountered a young woodland slug, these slow mollusks may look defenseless, but they have thick hide and use a sticky mucus to repel potential predators. a large force will be needed to properly subdue this slimy grazer of the Undergrowth
Slugs don't fight back and slow down ants that touch them considerably, large slugs can be climbed and harvested for 300 food, small slugs can be picked up for 30 food.
You encounter a centipede - * an ant has be caught in the jaws of a European red centipede Lithobius forficatus. It is large, armoured and equipped with a pair of serrated venomous pincers. This deadly hunter poses a serious threat to colony operations*
Red centipedes move similarly to velvet worms, albeit much faster. they grab ants in their pincers, dealing immediate physical damage and high venom damage over time. They have high health, speed and damage. They can sometimes invade your nest.
A red centipede enters the nest - a lithobius centipede has found the colony! The ants must fight!
The nuptial flight time has arrived - *as the sun's final rays shine over the canopy, the fusca colonies march out of their nests and prepare for takeoff, the ants have an uphill battle ahead of them.
All black ant colonies send their alates together with a group of soldiers to the top of the hill. If you have no alates by this time you automatically lose. You must kill them all to remain the only one standing on the top of the hill.
Winning - with the competition crushed and the woodland dominated, the ants were able to send their royalty flying in the skies above. Many of them will die but those who survive will ensure that the fusca dynasty is carried on forever in these unforgiving lands. A true victory for this once small family!
Losing because you were unable to send the alates - unable to amass enough numbers to carry out the nuptial flight, the ants inevitably failed. Their alates will die of starvation and their small, insignificant colony will crumble and be forgotten forever.
Losing to enemies - as the queen draws her final breath, the colonys future us sealed. The confused and weakened workers will wander out and succumb to the woodland predators, and the alates are left to starve. Their legacy, had ended
I'll be speculating on 2.3 soon!!

Hey Avata 2 Enthusiasts!
Today, let’s dive into an exciting aspect of flying the DJI Avata 2: discovering and capturing some of the UK’s most stunning and lesser-known scenic locations. The Avata 2’s incredible capabilities make it the perfect tool for exploring and documenting the beauty of these hidden gems.
Why the DJI Avata 2 is Perfect for Scenic Exploration
The DJI Avata 2 combines high-resolution imaging, stability, and maneuverability, making it ideal for capturing the essence of picturesque landscapes. Its advanced features allow you to get up close and personal with nature, offering unique perspectives that are difficult to achieve with traditional photography.
Top Scenic Locations to Explore

1. Isle of Skye, Scotland • Highlights: Known for its rugged landscapes, the Isle of Skye offers dramatic coastlines, ancient castles, and rolling hills. The Quiraing landslip and the Old Man of Storr are must-visit spots. • Tip: Visit during the early morning or late afternoon to capture the golden light on the landscapes. 2. Jurassic Coast, Dorset • Highlights: This World Heritage Site features stunning cliffs, arches, and rock formations. Durdle Door and Lulworth Cove are iconic locations that look spectacular from above. • Tip: Check tide schedules to capture the best views of the coastal formations. 3. Lake District, Cumbria • Highlights: With its tranquil lakes and verdant hills, the Lake District is a paradise for aerial photography. Windermere, Derwentwater, and Scafell Pike are standout spots. • Tip: Fly during autumn to capture the rich, colorful foliage. 4. Glen Coe, Scotland • Highlights: Famous for its dramatic scenery and historical significance, Glen Coe offers breathtaking views of mountains and valleys. • Tip: Overcast days can add a moody, atmospheric effect to your footage. 5. The Cotswolds, England • Highlights: Known for its charming villages and rolling hills, the Cotswolds is perfect for capturing quintessential English countryside scenes. • Tip: Use the drone to capture panoramic views of the patchwork fields and quaint stone cottages.

Tips for Capturing Stunning Aerial Footage

1. Plan Your Shots: Before you fly, plan the shots you want to capture. Use maps and satellite images to scout the area and identify key features. 2. Golden Hour Magic: The best times to shoot are during the golden hours—just after sunrise and just before sunset. The soft light enhances the natural beauty of landscapes. 3. Experiment with Angles: Don’t be afraid to try different angles and heights. Sometimes the most striking shots come from unconventional perspectives. 4. Fly Smooth and Steady: Use the Avata 2’s advanced stabilization features to ensure smooth and cinematic footage. Slow, steady movements will make your videos more professional. 5. Respect Nature: Always fly responsibly. Respect wildlife and natural habitats, and adhere to local regulations to ensure you’re not disturbing the environment.

Best Tools and Accessories

1. ND Filters: These help manage exposure in bright conditions, ensuring your footage is well-balanced and not overexposed. 2. Extra Batteries: To make the most of your trips, carry extra batteries to extend your flight time and capture all the moments you want. 3. Portable Charger: A portable charger can be a lifesaver, especially when exploring remote areas.

Exploring and capturing the UK’s hidden gems with the DJI Avata 2 is an incredibly rewarding experience. With careful planning and a bit of creativity, you can create stunning visual stories that showcase the beauty of these amazing locations.
Happy flying, and may your journeys be filled with breathtaking views and unforgettable moments! 🚁🌍📸

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

The first hurdle to your infiltration of Eochu Bres is entering the Hybrasil system undetected. As you reach the hyperjump point into the system you are contacted by Trion Security demanding you to turn on your IFF transponder or be barred from entry by the hyperspace condenser. You turn it on and enter the system, the megastructure of the hyperspace condenser in your view. You watch as another fleet, a large cargo ship with some fuel carriers and a heavy escort, enters normal space outside of the standard traffic entering and exiting the system before being vaporised by the condenser's security systems. Further scans show Path members in the graveyard formed from their attack force, before they are hoovered up by automated salvage vessels, a reminder of why a frontal assault is not recommended.
The first destination of your shuttlecraft is Culann, the industrial centre of the Hybrasil system. Your ship travels to one of the more sparsely populated sectors of the pseudo-eucomopolis world before heading down. Even in the industrial sector, the chaotic heart of the planet is palpable. Street vendors on every corner, streets filled to the brim with people and buildings browned with pollution and use, or as the people of Culann call it "soul". Although Culann is one of the less pleasent places to live in the galaxy, the inhabitants maintain a firm sense of pride in being the heart of a major industrial empire and a blitz spirit towards the hardships found living in a planet-wide industrial slum. Whilst the meeting place is on one of the lower levels, it is far from the bottom, a place home to unkown terrors as is standard of a world such as Culann. You meet with the Faction Paradox agent who hands you your Eochu Bres passports before running through the plan as is standard. Get to the planet, enter the complex, reach the location and breach the vault. As your ships leave the artificially sustained atmosphere of the ex-gas giant you move past the Starship Bazaar, a gargantuan space station surrounded by more ships than your scanners can count.
Your ships is able to pass through the passport blockade of Eochu Bres with little to no difficulty and enter the planet's interdiction field. The various branch complexes each leave their marks on the planet's cold surface. The great agri-rings of Trion Agriculture, hundreds of miles wide each, sustained by terraforming megastructures that maintain the optimum climates for each of the rings. This starkly contrasts with the mountains that play home to the Trion Security complex, peppered by constant small arms fire that act as training for both Trion's military and mercenary branch. Your ship passes the Trion Shipping complex, the only one not to be based on the planet itself. While less sizable than the Culann Starship Bazaar, it still maintains a respectable amount of traffic as it controls the flow of goods into and out of the planet. Finally, your ship flies over the main corporate complex, guided in by an air traffic control officer who makes sure to check your permissions over three times and probably sends it to a higher up to be checked as well. The Corporate complex is the polar opposite of Culann, where Culann is chaotic and polluted, the Corporate complex is clean and controlled. Every shop has a standardised rotor of goods, every piece of public transport runs on time to the second with no privately owned vehicles in sight and every section of the city is surgically designed to be as efficient as possible. You finally find your way to the base of Trion Tower, the map leading to the datavault uploaded to all your PDAs, let the job commence.

Hi all,
UK based, looking to buy a Jogger and potentially the Jogger extreme with Dusty Khaki Paint - Local Dealer has told me some are coming in September and I can reserve one. I went with the jogger because I want a 7 seater, I also decided I wanted to go Hybrid. In terms of the version between expression and extreme, I was a little bit unsure because of descriptions of some of the features (generally I thought the extreme features would all be an upgrade of the essentials, but not sure if that's the case)

8" Media Display versus 8" Media Nav - One reason for for going "Extreme" was because of the word "Nav" in the extreme, but then after reading a little, I believe this is built in maps with 3 years of updates and both the Expression and the Extreme support Android Auto. I have been using Google maps from my phone for a few years now due to the Nissan Maps price, plus Google has better real time updates. So is the inbuilt Maps the only difference between the media manager on Expression and Extreme?
I have also read today that Dacia is no longer supporting Android Auto via wireless, which seems annoying as I would prefer not to have my Phone out and wires trailing. Can anyone confirm if this is still the case on 2024 models?
I note that the Extreme has 6 speakers versus the 4 in the Expression, so that's a point for the extreme.
I note the interior seating covers on the extreme are different and have read they are easier to keep clean, which would also be a plus with having 4 kids in the back, but does anyone have experience of the difference between the interior trim
The Alloy wheels on the extreme are not really a selling point for me, I have no preference, but I am assuming that the Alloys are a large part of the £1000 difference between the models. Are Alloys just a cosmetic thing or is there a practical reason to consider them?
I note the Expression has "ESC (Electronic Stability Control) with ASR (Traction control) and Hill Start Assist (HSA)" while the Extreme has "Extended grip". The extended grip is fairly obvious in its description, but my UK usage of it would seem limited, buy by NOT having the ESC, ASR and HSA of the expression, am I missing out on a good feature the jogger does not have? (Curious why its missing from the extreme as Extended Grip does not sound like it provide a replacement for ESC, ASR and HSA)
Only the Extreme has the "Shark Fin" arial, but I don't even know what benefit that gives, is it just cosmetic, and where is the arial on the Expression?

Sorry for such a long first post, but am torn. £1000 on the one hand is a lot of money, but in comparison to the car total price, it isn't that much, but if anyone can fill in the blanks about the features above, and give me their opinion, I would be most grateful

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Essemi chapter
The Defender of Virtues was … Well, at least it was capable of moving around, which was rather impressive considering its age. It was built during the Aviel succession crisis, more than a century ago. It was, at the time, a brilliant display of engineering.
To be honest, its sheer size was still impressive, and it was probably better to command it than a smaller, more recent ship. Its shape was a classic example of the later Altirian period, a sort of arrow as the main body, with two smaller one attached to the sides. On the side the artificial gravity considered the “top”, there were building-like structures, resembling a city.
The whole thing looked like it was built for atmospheric flight, which was very much not the case, considering it was more than 800 meters long, and as such would probably fall apart under the forces applied. But it was definitely stylish, even if a little outdated, and still very practical.
There were worse ships to be stuck on for months for sure, and the crew was pretty nice too, barring the exception sitting in front of me. Of course, I was the one who needed to manage Commander Zedbi for the foreseeable future.
“I have come once again to make my complaints heard, Captain.”
“Commander, it’s much too late for me to go back on my decision, even if I wanted to. Complaining now will accomplish nothing except waste everyone’s time.”
“Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before limiting me to bringing only three servants on board. Someone of my status needs at least five, even in special circumstances.”
“Commander, this is a long-term mission. Anyone we bring will be a significant strain on our precious resources. I consider three servants to be more than sufficient for our officers.”
“Yes, I guess you wouldn’t understand who would need more personnel than your mother was ever able to afford. Then again, you only have one butler on a captain’s salary. Guess the Temidian blood runs strong in your family.”
“Enough, Commander. Go back to your post or this conversation will be reported to high command on our return.”
“You wouldn’t dare! They’ll know I’m right!”
Curiously for someone so sure of his righteousness, he still left the bridge, letting me concentrate on the maps of what was known on Terra space. The answer was resoundingly ‘not much’. But we could speculate on what systems would be the potentially juiciest to settle for them, considering what we knew.
I was busy planning the best potential routes for our operation, when the absolute darkness I could see through the glass bay suddenly filled with stars, and the main alarm began blasting.
“We left FTL”, screamed a Licam operating the propulsion system.
“I can see that,” I mumble. “Cut the alarm and send everyone to their combat position. Every officer on the bridge. We need to assess the situation.”
I was already thinking. We were five days of travel away from Earth. We had just encountered an FTL disruption field. What could that mean? Well first of all, the map the sensors were building around us didn’t detect any significant body or hostile vessels nearby, which meant… The disruption field filled a significant part of the system!
For what purpose? It was obvious: traversing it without distortion would take us months. It was a wall. I quickly went over the implications. A disruptor station had to be manned, or at least, maintained. That meant they needed ships travelling for months at sub light speed to resupply these stations! That was quite the commitment to prevent us entry. Fortunately, we could easily turn back to exit the field and go back home, which is exactly what I ordered.
Then, something impossible happened. A ship appeared on the radar, as if it had just exited a jump. But it had done so in the disruption field. Even worse, the gravitational wave detector spiked, like we were now almost right next to the disruptor.
I realized that it was the case: this ship could ignore the disruption field, and as such it had no problem having the disruptor on board.
We began blasting at it with our energy weaponry, to no avail. They were essentially teleporting after each time they fired, always being gone by the time our rays reached their position.
After of few minutes of that pointless exchange of fire, were our weapons never hit and theirs did barely any damage, twelve new signals appeared on the screen coming towards us at a terrifying speed. Missiles! No, the way they maneuvered to escape our point defenses ruled that out. Strike crafts…
The Terrans were hopelessly outmatched in firepower, and elven of the strike crafts were destroyed. But the last one managed to slam in the left “secondary hull”, destroying it almost entirely. We could survive without it, but I doubted that was all the Humans had in stock. We needed to get out now, but how? We were in the middle of a light-hour wide disruption field, that our enemy could somehow ignore! But that gave me an idea. If it didn’t work, we were dead anyway.
“Activate the disruptor!”
My subordinates didn’t understand why I would do that when the enemy was clearly immune to it, but they weren’t paid to think, and they knew it! (Those who were paid at all, that is.)
as soon as our own field reached the enemy ship, they became a lot less jumpy. I was right, they could jump in the field they generated, but ours could still pin them down!
“Fire a relativistic missile at them and cut the field so that they can jump a second before it hits them!”
If we destroyed the main craft, I had no doubt the strike crafts would avenge it. If they fled, however, we might have a chance. Of course, the most logical course of action for them would be to dodge and finish us of, but I hoped one second would be a short delay enough to overwrite rationality in the brains of our opponents.
And I was right. After a few hours, when the enormous disruption field had completely dissolved, our enemies still hadn’t returned, and we were able to escape.
If Commander Zebdi had not met his demise during the battle, (a tragedy that took me several seconds to recover from), he would have probably pointed out that that we should have destroyed the ship at the cost of our lives in the name of honor.
I, however, was certain that the intel we were bringing back would be a more devasting blow to humanity than the loss of any ship could be. The fact that it allowed us to remain alive was merely a pleasant side effect.

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