A World of Monsters. (An Encyclopedia on the creatures of the world of Null, Original Writing.)

[TripleMRed]

Cackler.

[Sketches depict an enormous armored wyvern like beast. However, it has the tell tale armored, eyeless face of the native Hydras of Null, and it seems this is a flying species derived from them. Sketches show it flying in small packs, casting down bolts of lightning from its mouth to targets down below, the lighting powerful enough to forge entire monuments of glass from wherever on the ground they hit. Some sketches resemble more medieval artworks, depicting Stonecutters in armor riding atop true Wyverns battling the creatures in the skies.]

(A note is attached. It reads 'Every Nation has a beast that is their arch nemesis. Royalbacks have the Jaco Killer, Bughunters have the Slycers, and us Stonecutters? We've got these things. Flying tanks with a sick sense of humor who love nothing more than to rain lightning down on those that happen to be in its way. What a bunch of janked off jerks!')

Scientific Name Translation: Eyeless Sky Killer.

Average Size: Ranges between 15-29 meters long from nose to tail tip, highly variable on a specimen by specimen basis due to age and diet.

Average Weight: Average between 20-75 tons, depending on specimen.

Notable Sexual Dimorphism: Females have sharper horns and edges on their armored plating..

Habitat Range: Predominantly in Stonecutter Territory, but can be found in mountain ranges all over the Arisa continent..

Summary:​

The flexibility and mutability of the Hydra and is ability to fill in any niche if given the time to adapt and remold itself is truly fascinating, even admirable. However, not all results of this mutability are relatively benign additions to the ecosystem. Indeed, one of the most infamous divergences from the mainline Hydra family line is the Cackler, an enormous, Wyvern like beast that has terrorized mountain based societies for millennia. None are more familiar, or more embittered, against these beasts than those of the Stonecutter Nation, who due to their mining heavy culture and history, are deeply entrenched in the extensive networks of mountains in their homelands. [A note is attached. It reads 'There's nothing that puts the fear of thunder storms into a kid's hearts like the periodic Cackler Raid Sirens. My birthplace was decked out with anti air equipment, and those things made a game of attacking through the AA fire.]

Hulking in size, the Cackler gets its name due to its signature 'laugh', an ethereal cackling noise they produce both to communicate and as a signal of satisfaction when they locate prey to attack. Cacklers are omnivores with a preference for meat, making them historically massive problems for those that raised livestock in the territories they claimed as their patrol regions. This problem was only worsened as the Cacklers would kill more than was needed out of a sense of amusement, as they can feed upon a single Oliphant or Apo easily but always tend to kill two or three per attack. With the Oliphant beef industry being a prized commodity for trade in Stonecutter history alongside their mining products, this quickly and easily set both parties into a long and brutal feud between one another. If there is one element of their sadistic games that is to our collective benefit, they do not discriminate or care what species catches their attention. As such, things such as Spider Ant or Dream Lotus invasions can find themselves targeted by Cacklers just as much as their targets.

Biologically, the Cackler is covered head to toe in heavy armor plating, extremely durable that in the modern day, direct anti-tank rail weaponry is required to reliably penetrate all but the most fragile portions such as the relatively vulnerable wings. On its own, its weight and mass would prevent it from flying with the size of the wings it has, however, as with many creatures in its size and weight range to achieve flight, Cacklers consume Floatstone in their diet early on in their lives until they assimilate it into special sets of organs dubbed 'flight glands' that assist such heavy creatures in being able to achieve and maintain flight despite their size and density. For Cacklers in particular, they levy this to make themselves extremely durable while still being able to fly, albeit at a slower top speed and acceleration than most. [A note is attached. It reads 'You'd think that would make them easier targets, but I've seen the fights against these things in the air. What they lack in speed, they make up for in agility. They can turn on a dime like nobodies business, and their long necks means they can aim behind themselves to blast a volt on anything chasing them.']

In addition to armor, claws, a heavy tail and crushing bite, the Cackler is also in possession of organs that process Fulgerite into a usable form for use in ranged combat. Unlike true dragons who can make their own elemental breath weapons indefinitely without outside assistance, Cacklers require periodic 'reloading' by consuming Fulgerite crystals or, in a pinch, being struck by lighting. This is a non issue in their stormy, mountainous homes, but it does mean they are running on a limit of shots outside of their preferred territories. They can even use their electrical abilities to electrify their bodies into a sort of shield, one that can even destroy incoming missiles when active. These lightning blasts are so concentrated, that a direct hit can vaporize meters of vehicle armor plating, making any vehicle that is not on the move an almost guaranteed kill. Anti Air units in territories with Cacklers are armored with specialized repeating gauss cannons and anti armor missiles to bring down Cacklers, forcing them to a ground fight where their threat is more limited. [A note is attached, reading ''Limited'. You ever get chased by a grounded Cackler? There's nothing 'limited' about that!']

The biggest rivalry in nature they have is with Wyverns, as the flying dragon relatives meet their distant cousins in the skies in fierce duels until one or both parties are dead or driven off. With Wyvern riding being extremely common among the peoples living around mountain regions, Wyvern Cavalry Corps even to this day find themselves leading their steeds against their mutually hated rivals. [A note is attached. It reads 'Ohoho, don't ask WCC jockies what they think of Cacklers. You'd think they were sailors with what comes out of their mouths!']

In terms of reproduction, it is as simple as it can get: During mating season, males and females join together in non-committal relationships before separating, the females spawning anywhere from 4-7 young per gestation. These young Cacklers are at their most vulnerable, making them ideal targets for Wyverns seeking to kill their hated enemy, causing nests to be protected around the clock. Nesting on their mountains of choice, Cacklers are born and raised high in the cloud layers, observing their mothers movements and mimicking them until they are old and strong enough to fly on their own. Around the time they first learn to fly, they are ready to begin following their mothers on her hunts to learn how to survive on their own, as well as learning the 'games' of attacking and blasting prey down below with near impunity. Once they reach full maturity, they depart to seek out new mountains and Cackler communities to become a part of.

Cacklers are the bane of mountain communities across Arisa, and the Stonecutters in particular have been their favored targets for untold centuries. The two sides bitterly fight one another, the Cacklers mountain homes near unassailable due to the inability to bring about the heaviest firepower under the threat of destabilizing the local geology and ecosystem with the destruction of whole mountains, causing something of a bitter stalemate of sorts. Still, as hated as they are, Stonecutters also use Cackler iconography commonly in their armored aerial vehicles as something of a send up and mockery of their biological foes. [Attached is a note. It depicts a sketch of an Oros woman in a flight armor, helmet in her hands, next to a gunship, smiling at the viewer. Words follow, reading 'Love you, Ma!']

 

[TripleMRed]

Nerve Worm.

[Sketches depict a small, dark colored worm, its various stages of life, as well as its life cycle. The creature appears to be a parasite that burrows into the nervous system of the host before lying dormant. Disturbingly, upon the victims death, the worm awakens, replacing all the victim's nerves before reanimating the body as a zombie like husk covered in black spikes jutting out of the flesh.]

[A note is attached. It reads 'I saw the reanimation process of someone's pet dog once. It was like something out of a Displaced's horror movie, I couldn't look away.]

Scientific Name Translation: Death Eating Worm.

Average Size: 10mm's in larval stage.

Average Weight: .1 ounces in larval stage.

Notable Sexual Dimorphism: N/A, asexual species.

Habitat Range: Continent Wide, largest concentration in the Ethereal Forest biomes.

Summary:​

There are many parasitic species in our world, for wherever there are the evolutionary pressures for life to fill every possible niche, there will be those life forms that evolve to benefit themselves off of other species without anything given back in return. One such species that proves itself a threat more to other than its host is the Nerve Worm. Believed to be descended of Elder stock, the Nerve Worm is a parasitic life form that begins its life as eggs that are unknowingly ingested by the host, or implanted by a transformed host. Upon ingestion, the eggs hatch and the newborn worms burrow into the creatures nervous system, where they then go dormant and await the death of their host. [A note is attached. It depicts a drawing of a dawg with a tiny worm riding on its back, a word bubble over it declaring 'Go, my steed.']

Unlike most parasites, which can only survive when the host is still alive, the Nerve Worm feeds on the metaphysical essences released upon death itself. Being at ground zero of their own host's demise, the influx of necrotic energies released upon their expiration awakens the worm and feeds it immensely, giving it the power it needs for the next step of its evolution. Upon feeding on the death of their host, the Nerve Worm replaces the host's nervous system with itself, growing and morphing into a vast, root like structure to accomplish this. The exact time frames for this transformation varies on host to host, but the maximum time is always an hour at most. Once the replacement is complete, sensory spikes erupt from the host body and the corpse is reanimated. [A note is attached. It reads 'Like I said, I watched the final stages happen. The poor pupper had been hit run through by rebar into its heart, something had exploded in an animal attack. The body was just left there until we could get everything under control, but that just meant it could reanimate without any trouble. Its furry skin shifted and bulged until spikes tore out of it it, its eyes went milky white, and it just stood up, jaw hanging open and blood still oozing out of the wound in its chest. I sometimes still get nightmares from seeing that.]

The Nerve Worm's primary food source is the entropic energies from the death of a living creature, and in a world like ours, there is no end to the feeding. This endless source of nourishment sustains and improves them, causing further mutations as they grow in power and ability. Spikes and tendrils begin to grow even further, making them more adept in combat in order to hunt down and slay others, allowing them to cause the very death they feed on in order to grow further, infecting living hosts to spread their species. While little threat to any Civilized Race, they can wreak havoc in local ecosystems and destabilize local food chains with their over hunting as they kill off keystone species and common food sources in order to cause localized starvation to weaken creatures to make them easier to kill.

As threats to any ecosystem they are located in, their eradication is a top priority for the Hunter's Guild. Their intense war and research against these creatures has found they can only infect already living hosts as the death of a living creature is essential for their initial transformation due to the proximity to such a source of entropic energies upon death. Additionally, there seems to be a narrow but impactful size range in which they can infect, as creatures too small are not worth the effort as they offer too little energy to transform, and to large have immune systems to burn them out. Additionally, Civilized Races appear safe due to their equally heightened immune systems, but Displaced are at risk of infection. Those living in regions at risk of these creatures appearing often have routine vaccination campaigns to immunize their Displaced populations from potential infection, as the threat of a Worm Husk is proportional to the ability to manipulate tool use amongst themselves. [A note is attached. A sketch of a feline man standing in the shadows holding a hatchet is depicted, his eyes milky white, jaw slack and flesh decayed as black spikes erupt from his body. Words follow, reading 'Truth is worse than fiction....']

Overall, efforts to eradicate them completely have met with only mild success. Scavengers such as Cadaver Beetles, Bark Bugs, and Ghuls have the potent acid necessary to eradicate the eggs and larva, but the speed in which they can reanimate leaves little time to get all the bodies in the wild, and they lack true necromancy power that would cause Ghuls to come after them with full force. As such, research and development has begun to look into ways to sterilize the creatures using biochemical methods, though the ongoing research is slow due to wanting to make sure there are no risks to any creatures outside of the Worms. After all, it would be an abject failure in trying to save the ecosystem if you accidentally sterilize it alongside the things causing it to be under threat in the first place.

 

[TripleMRed]

Puppeteer.

[Sketches depict a large arthropod like creature that looks like a halfway cross between a spider and a hermit crab, complete with it hiding within a makeshift shell of materials it collected and molded into a mobile home. The creature is shown spinning webs and hiding in dark places, using their webbing to string up bodies like they were puppets to use for their entertainment. One sketch even shows one 'puppet' being displayed and paraded in front of a large gathering of the creatures.]

(A sketch is attached. It depicts a person standing at the end of a dark hallway, their head slightly slumped as their body is held upright by strings, the tip of an armored arthropod leg barely visible in the darkness]

Scientific Name Translation: Corpse Artist.

Average Size: 9-12 feet/2.7-3.65 meters tall.

Average Weight: 1000 pounds to upwards of a ton.

Notable Sexual Dimorphism: Females are larger than males.

Habitat Range: Caves, abandoned buildings, and underground regions near the surface.

Summary:​

There is much debate in the Nullian scientific community on the nature and prevalence of sapience. While all animals with a funcitoning nervous system is sentient, it is a long standing argument on what constitutes as 'sapient', as the dividing line on our world is thing and blurry at the best of times. Terms such as 'semi-sapient' have been coined in order to attribute high intellect to animals that lack certain traits of Civilized Races such as complex technology or culture, but many believe this falls under the preview of technicalities and the argument only spirals from there. Regardless of how one personally feels on the matter, the scientific community on Null is split between attributing full sapience to the majority of creatures on our world and those who feel 'semi-sapient' is a good enough label to apply to most creatures.

However, if sapience is attributed to the capacity to create, maintain, and propagate culture, then one creature in particular stands out as such in their rather morbid mannerisms. The Puppeteer, also known by various other names such as the String Crab and the Puppet Spider, is a large arachnid with aquatic crustacean like qualities to their appearance. They particularly share a similarity to the common Hermit Krab in that they fashion shells for themselves to hide in when outside of their cavernous homes in the wild using scrap and available materials. The Puppeteer is so named due to their signature trait: Using their webs to string up and manipulate bodies as though they were life sized puppets. (A note is attached. It depicts a drawing of a puppet on strings that resembles a female Oros with a seeing-eye patch.)

While numerous creatures covered in this Encyclopedia have displayed the emotional capacity to be sadistic, the reason for this behavior is that the Puppeteer possesses the same emotional capacity, but with the mind to be interested in what we Civilized Races would consider forms of war. Indeed, it is not uncommon for Puppeteers to spend their time decorating their homes using crudely made paint, their own webbing, or interesting materials or fragments they find aesthetically pleasing enough to display. This interest in art, however, peaks with the idea of puppetry and performance pieces using those puppets. Scant remaining evidence indicates this behavior is not new, but it has also not been an integral part of their species since its inception. While we cannot say with certainty when this behavior started and became popular among their kind, it is easy to assume that contact and observation of early ritual dances and crude puppetry among Civilized Races sparked their imaginations to begin doing the same in imitation.

Regardless of the truth, the Puppeteer species of arachnids love nothing more than to gather with their kind to perform their art, communicating in a complex but difficulty to decipher language of hisses, clicks, and rubbing of chitinous plating. During these meetings, what can only be described as singing made up of harmonized sounds from the participants as they hold contests of artistic skill among themselves can be heard. These meetings are dangerous to observers not fully concealed under modern cloaking technology, however, as Puppeteers are highly intelligent but also highly proud as a species, putting little thought into the life of other creatures they do not have routine contact with. (A note is attached. It reads 'Sometimes, they use the bait thing and don't attack us. It's like they want a live audience and if you give them what they want and clap, they don't attack at all and just leave.')

Their signature namesake is taking other creatures and stringing them up to be used as puppets. While they will obviously use corpses to do so, they actually have no strong preference to do so and will over power and string up life prey for their art as well. Those who have survived the experience state that the Puppeteer injected them with a mild form of their venom that temporarily paralyzed their bodies, but left them fully possable to allow a full range of motion in their performance. Some even wonder if they are fully aware of us as people, as while some have indicated such an awareness, others treat Civilized Races the exact same as any other animal. (A note is attached. It reads 'Han told me about this happening to someone once. He was on the job as a Hunter back in the day when they were clearing out some abandoned ruins. He caught sight of one of his team members down a dark hall way, but it quickly became clear how big of trouble they were in when he got close enough to sense what was directly behind them.')

Regardless of the specifics, Puppeteers do not exclusively use their puppet skills purely for art's sake. Indeed, their most common hunting tactic aside from ambush is to use their puppets as a form of bait, using a mixture of darkness and their puppet to hide the true nature of the deception to lure in hungry or curious prey items to the display, similar to how Shade Foxes will act in rambunctious and inane ways to lower the guard of their prey items. Once prey is near enough, they strike, using a mixture of webbing to bind down their prey, plasma coated strikes from their legs to injure them, and injection of venom to kill them before feeding.

In combat, Puppeteers are durable on their own but not overwhelmingly so, their biggest advantage being ambush and bait tactics. However, as they are most often fought outside of their caves when on an outing into the wider world, they are often protected by a makeshift shell of their own construction, which more often then not includes armor plating of Civilized design that provides them ample protection against non-Armor Piercing munitions. Explosive rounds are recommended in order to dislodge or shake apart their protective shells, in order to render them vulnerable to other weaponry. (A note is attached. It reads 'You'd think AT grenades would be the most useful, but it just blows a hole into the shell instead of blowing it apart. Ironically, high explosive rounds like regular grenades or rockets do the trick of disarmoring them better..')

In terms of reproduction, Puppeteers do not mate for life and will come together during one of their artistic gatherings to mate and produce young. Parents do not directly raise the resulting offspring, but rather they are raised communally, picking up skills and traits from all members of the Puppeteer community. Once they are old enough, they construct their first home-shell and begin the journey to search for a new community of their own, a perilous journey where many meet their final fate before they can find their new homes.

In terms of their relationship with the Civilized Races, they are often the bogeymen of stories told to children in order to scare them into staying close to their parents whenever a Bloodsucker is not used for the same purpose. Found all over the continent in numerous caverns not already home to other dangerous life forms or that have become home to Chimera, they are a present and constant threat to those who are not wary around such locations. Still, their relative fragility, their high intelligence, and their macabre but fascinating sense of aesthetic and art does make them something of a curiosity in many cultures. It is not uncommon for folk tales to feature Puppeteers as their protagonists and antagonists alike, often using guile and showmanship to either win or try and lure the hero into danger. (A note is attached. It reads 'Us Stonecutters cleared them out of our home region's mountains a long time ago, so we don't really do spooky stories with them. Cacklers and Bloodsuckers are what we get told about as kids in order not to wander off.

 

[TripleMRed]

I started this new Journal not too long ago, and I've been wrestling with myself over when to get to the 'big one'. Every Hunter and Knight that survives long enough has, in their career, the 'big one', the highlight that colors their careers going forward, the thing you put in your credentials that catches the eye and gets attention. I could try and pussyfoot around it, but if this goes to my family like it's supposed to, then I think you all know what I'm about to get at. Don't let Hildra see this page, you know why.

Yeah. Him. It was about a hundred years ago, give or take. It had been a few decades since I left the Hunters and joined the military, became a Knight same as everyone else. Now, Hunters get animal jobs, military gets stuff like Spider Ants, Mother Root, Spirit Incursions, all that stuff. But there is one kind mission we get called in to work alongside Hunters, the one thing we are supposed to work together on with no exceptions.
Bloodsuckers.

Our twisted, nightmare counterparts. The things purpose made to hunt us down. The creatures that plagued our nightmares and caused Orosoid society to adopt masks as normal wear until we had wiped them out in the wild. And on that, Red Huey was not the last, but he was one of them. He was young, just entered adulthood. We could tell because by the time we got the green light to go after him, the recon photos showed him going from having a nose to missing one. The tell tale sign that the others of their kind considered him and adult and welcomed him by cutting it off. Since it's only the tip that's removed, the actual olfactory capabilities are barely impacted at all, so no matter what our plan was, it would know we were coming.

Bloodsuckers can smell you coming from over 20 miles away, that's how good their sense of smell is, and over 40 miles away if the wind is strong that day. That's the tricky part of hunting these things down. You can't bomb them: They're too good at hiding and too fast to properly target with saturation bombardments, and too tough for it to work without consistent direct hits.

You can't snipe them with an anti-vehicle cannon: They intentionally live in territories that leave you with little opportunity for long range combat farther than they can smell you out. There was no chemical or biological weapon that could kill or weaken it that wasn't also strong enough to threaten the lives of everyone else there, and since you can't rely on just bots to take a Bloodsucker down, that was out in order for us troops to be in the operational area. And fighting them in melee is a death sentence because, well, they're Bloodsuckers. They're built to kill the toughest sapient species on this planet consistently. I still have no idea how Great Gran Alyxcia killed one, even with a divine weapon and her incredible regen.

Therefore, the best strategy we've found to take these things down is send a small army after them. Bloodsuckers are cautious, because for all their strengths and negligible weaknesses, they are also smart enough to know they can be overwhelmed with enough numbers. So cutting off all escape routes and boxing them in is step one. That is not as easy as it seems, specifically because if we could do that with no problems, we would have come up with more efficient ways to deal with them. So before you can even get this far into the plan, you need to painstakingly map out their routines, because Bloodsuckers are nothing if not creatures of routine when they're not hunting us down.

They have schedules they stick to day to day, and learning that perfectly is key to taking them on. It's a lot of work, and a lot of time, to get right, because if you don't map out their territory perfectly, don't know when they're tired and sleeping to catch them off guard, then they'll have an escape route planned to dodge the hundreds of soldiers and dozens of vehicles you're sending after them when you try to cut off their escape routes.

It took us almost 5 years of planning to get Red Huey's habits down enough for us to plan our assault. He lived in an old, abandoned chop shop, near the site of a town that got wiped out in a Spider Ant war years before hand. Old scrap yards like that are perfect for a Bloodsucker to live in, because after they get used to the smells of rust and overgrowing vegetation, they'll be able to zero in on clean metal and blood that didn't belong in the environment in its territory. It also gives them a lot of hiding places, especially a rust red one like Huey.

The plan was simple: Get their at early morning, cut off escape routes, and then have the automated units distract Huey while we focused fire and had the vehicles hit him until he went down. It's worked before on other Bloodsuckers, with only minimal casualties, but unfortunately we were not prepared for Huey. A normal Bloodsucker, while not panicking, would have their sense of caution work against them when they wake up to being surrounded, their normal escape routes cut off and inaccessible, being overwhelmed by automated forces and calculated weapons fire from afar before being picked off by heavy weapons. That's how a normal, sane Bloodsucker dies.

Unfortunately for us, Huey wasn't just young, he was a terrible mixture of smart and possibly insane. Can't even blame intel for dropping the ball, the thing seemed to switch mental gears from how it was on its routine, like being surrounded by guns and blood was what he wanted.

No sooner did we have him trapped and the first bots took their steps off the transports did it all go to hell. An entire old comms. tower was tipped over to trap the first wave, cutting them off from support and letting Huey shred the bots and their handlers in the vehicles. After that, it all went to hell, with the bastard using the moment of confusion to attack the weakest point near him and sowing chaos. He stayed close to our units to prevent our air support from unleashing all they had on him, while our tanks were forced to hold fire and try and hover back to better firing positions.

A half dozen troops had their throats torn open in half as many seconds, blood and neck viscera flying through the air, the ground slickening with gore and machine coolant as it peeled open vehicles like cans. There is a reason this strategy hinges on the Bloodsucker being cautious to work, because those that aren't cause bodies to pile up in no time at all. 10 deaths in a quarter of as many seconds, twice as many injuries in twice that time that were in reach but not directly in its war path.

One tank was in the way, and its claws didn't even slow down as it sliced through armor plating that can eat strikes from enemy cannon fire and other creatures. As it got to the rear, it was like it knew where to aim for to gut its power systems, the thing crashed to the ground from the surge and then it was tearing a hole in the turret to get at the vitals within, ignoring the Slugger and infantry Rail fire lighting up its back. Treated our attempts to kill it like a fucking rain shower. It was a good thing there was no one manning the turret, thank God for automation, but when he realized that, he got mad enough to grab it by the gun just...

It yanked the turret off and tossed aside the same way a child tosses a toy when playing, only with more anger in its motion.

One mech tried to stab it with a giant sized Heat Blade, but it leaned out of the way and jabbed its claws into the mech's over extended arm at the elbow. Popped it clean off. It wasn't an Oros piloting it, it was a Mortalized Spirit, a Yayai I knew from our unit called Yuchi. I didn't need a clear look when it leapt onto the cockpit and started tearing at it to know it was taking its time with him. I could hear his screams before they just.....cut off.

A much more powerful Magi could have done something to contain the bastard, but I was not that Magi. Hell, the entire reason they didn't send Magi after them was because the only ones available for such a mission were those not strong enough to not end up dying short of good luck anyway, and the Order is understandably careful to avoid feeding their recruits to a meat grinder. However, what I was was near an abandoned but still powered industrial mech. I had to do something, and my guns and powers weren't enough. Nobody's was.

So I hopped in, turned it on, and stormed after the thing. It was the stupidest, scariest thing I ever did: Getting into a fist fight with a thing that drink people like me for we're a juice box, and doing it in a rusted, clunky piece of slag left out to rust for years. It was a miracle I lasted long enough to grab the bastard by the arms, pinning them to its sides, and holding it still for everyone in the area to just unload on the thing. It finally ended when one of our actual combat mechs stormed in, shoved its Heavy Rail Cannon into his screaming maw, and shot a fully charged shot into its head.

They gave me a ribbon for my quick thinking and allowing the mission to succeed with, quote, 'moderately minimal casualties'. Do you know what that means against a Bloodsucker? There were 500 of us on that op. 127 casualties. Huey killed 57 of us before I managed to hold it down and Ramarez managed to shoot a hole through its head. They called her and me heroes. She's the one who killed it, she deserves all the credit. All I did was get lucky with a harebrained scheme, and I wasn't even fast enough to stop over a tenth of us from dying, a dozen more than that number injured.

I still remember the aftermath. The only reason we didn't need to count the bodies was because we just had to look at the Tac-Net to see how many of us went down. I was still in the mech, I was still holding its limp body tight as if I just had to let go for it to spring back to life. If even half of the stories about previous kills of these things were true, it very well could have, and I wasn't going to take the chance of that happening. I held it, my eyes not drifting off while Ramarez readies her own mech's wrist mounted Heat Blade and got to work decapitating it, just to be safe.

Sure enough, as soon as she grabbed its head tight with one hand and started the arduous process of sawing it off with the blade, the body began to convulse, even as it didn't make a sound or anything. It took almost a full minute of constant sawing to finally, finally remove its head and another 10 seconds of the body shaking before it finally went limp for good. It honestly felt like the process was going on and on for hours from my perspective. That's how long it seems to last in the nightmares I kept having for a while after that.

The thing that haunted me the most, however, was when Ramarez held up the things head to the sinking moons' light to inspect it. There was a hole from the back of its mouth out the back of its head, and with the decapitation it was definitely dead. But I swear, under that moons' light, I almost looked like it was grinning, his eyes looking at me. I hope it was just a trick of the light, anyway, because the other possibilities are what kept me in the psych's office for the mandatory psych ups after Bloodsucker missions.

Things like these used to treat us as cattle. They're gone now in the wild, but there's still survivors in captivity. Most of them were born there. I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it: They're a lot like us, minus not being able to speak our tongue. They can't leave the facilities they're in, but they don't seem to mind. Lots of enrichment, and brave volunteers to keep them company and get them used to us as, well, people, not as food. I....Volunteered. I had to see for myself, you know? See that they don't have to be monsters. Got assigned to one, 'Mad Maggie'. She is.....a lot. Of course, I caught the attention of her mother, a wild one they caught long ago. But of course, it's just my luck, isn't it? Maggie's mom isn't some random Bloodsucker. It's one who got very infamous long, long ago.

Empty Palm.

But their story can wait for another day. Right now, I think I've said my piece on what happened with Huey and what it's like to actually fight one of these things. Again, if my family gets this, don't let Hildra read any of these parts.

(Here's the final Comm update for the year! Saved it up for today, for hopefully obvious reasons. Happy Halloween!)