Screams coated in fear and terror rode the wind as the sight of wolves indulging themselves on the bodies of the fallen took place. They ripped and tore through the throats and flesh of many as expressions of agony and despair were plastered over their faces. Their last moments overshadowed by the gaping jaws of the mutated wolves as they cried in needless abandon. They were left for dead as the sole survivors of the group ran in an act of desperation. Their chests heaved up and down as they ran relentlessly, fueled by the fear that drove them. Minutes flew by as they proceeded to gradually slow down. Coming to a stop near one of the many aged buildings of a ruined city that were left neglected by both the people and the wastelands.

They entered the building as people collapsed against the aged walls. Sweat and darkened crimson blood adorned their bodies as they released sighs of relief. Relief from how they could out maneuver the wolves, and relief for surviving another day in the wastelands. Their clothes were similar to rags as they were torn to but tatters of cloth. Covered in the viscous crimson liquid of both their comrades and the wolves. Over that was their armour, maimed with the scars of war and battle. In their hands an assortment of weapons ranging from wooden staffs to small knives as they were laid to rest next to them. They each held pained expressions as the darkened blood and guilt that adorned their souls began to take its toll...

“Fuck, Fuck! Fucking Stalkers were everywhere! I thought this area was clear of them!?”

“I-I don’t know Scorch bu-”

The man’s words fell upon deaf ears as Scorch mercilessly split is head into two. Blood squirted forth as an axe was buried knee deep into his head. Seemingly absorbing the life apparent in his eyes as they too began to dim into a lifeless and empty ornament. They adorned his slowly paling body as the axe was tugged forth, a mess of gray matter accompanying it.

“Does anyone else have something to say!?! Well?!”, Scorch, the leader of the raiders yelled. Maybe it was because of his blood stained body or his intimidating figure but what followed was only silence. They turned their heads or looked to the ground in terror as Scorch proceeded to channel his anger towards them. His insatiable rage.

“Damn right no one does!”, he glared with a writhing hatred as his animosity for the group swept over them.

‘Fucking pushovers...’, he knelt down as he proceeded to wipe away his blood stained axe on the fallen man’s clothes. Wiping the darkened blood on his hands as he did so. During this time a slender young man walked next to him staff by his side as he spoke with a great clarity and charm.

“Scorch, I think what’s best is to scout the area before making any type of encampment. What are your thoughts?”, the one who had proposed this was Joel, one of the most talented mages in the group. He provided Scorch with the plans and tactical maneuvers whilst he himself stood in the backlines, firing spell after spell. He was the brains so to speak. Joel stepped closer to the stubby and short figure of Scorch as he watched him wipe his axe.

“We took heavy losses so I think it would be best to find a place recover for now.” he continued.

Scorch sighed as he pushed himself from the ground. He looked to Joel who held a calm and collected face as he glared into his eyes. Contradictory to his appearance he was deceitful, treacherous, and cunning, a puppetmaster of sorts.

‘Fucking elven bastard…’, Scorch thought as he looked into his calming brown eyes. He hated the guy but it was at times like these that the mages intelligence took the spotlight. He groaned as he decided to comply with his demands.

“Alright… Everyone! Move out! You know what to do!”, they groaned and turned in response as they lifted their weapons from the floor. Some limped out the doorway as they proceeded to scout the remnants of this long forgotten city. Leaving but Scorch and Joel in the remnants of the building as they conversed about the loss of their raiders.

“Joel… ah shit, I know we aren’t exactly friends but... how are we going to explain… this?!”, Scorch gestured to the remainder of the raiders in the city as he cried out in irritation.

“You do realise he is gonna kill us! That bloody Demon! He’s going to rip us limb from fucking limb!”, Joel looked to him as his long pale ears twitched upon referral to this ‘Demon’.

“We’ll… we’ll think of something later… just leave it to me Dwarf.”, Joel looked at Scorch with eyes of resolve and determination as he seemingly sported a face of friendship. But if it were all a facade, a mask fabricated and made all for his demise? Who knew. Instead Scorch glanced to the city of ruins as he couldn’t bother to think much more. He let out an exasperated sigh once more before gesturing for the elf to follow as they trailed the fellow raiders.

The sight of countless barren buildings wasted by the nuclear fallout was a common sight for the group as they continued to stride through the debris and vague patches of vegetation that littered it. It was all silent before the piercing shout of someone in the distance caught their attention. Scorch looked to Joel as they both began to run in a great fervor. Jumping over boulders and walls of the like as they moved in on the man’s position. The scene of a sole person standing atop of a mound of rubble took his sight.

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“What happened here?” inquired Scorch. He stepped towards the mound of rubble before climbing up with his short and stumpy limbs. Struggling before he finally grasped the top of the mound. Having finally made it, he placed his hands on his knees as he turned to look at the base of the mound.

“Better not be somethi-”, his words fell short as the sight of a fallen Dreadbear took his sight. It had a darkened matted coat covered in a viscous crimson liquid. It’s eyes nothing more than tendrils of meat as they danced to the winds will… and it’s life, well, that was no more. It surprised Scorch as he stood there dazed by the emergence of such a monstrous beast.

“Shit! These things are at least level 40 or higher!”, Scorch exclaimed. He stepped towards the crater before he dropped next to where the Dreadbear lay. He stumbled as he picked himself up from the ground, limping as he went to touch upon its fur. In turn he began to smile in satisfaction and greed as it’s coarse and dense coat met his fingers. It was a great material to use for the production of armour, and with such a large amount, well, that just made it better.

“Yes this would do… this would do nicely… maybe with this he could forgive us!”, Scorch laughed in complete joy and delight as it echoed throughout the desolate ruins. The people around him distanced themselves from him as his piercing laughter entered their ears. After his little outburst, he looked to the other seven or so people as he questioned them with his gaze.

“Well? What are you guys doing?!? Get to work!”

His face suddenly changed to one of great contempt as they all slid down into the crater of where the bear lay, driven by the fuel of fear.

‘Lazy shits…’, thought Scorch as he turned to watch over the dreadbear’s corpse. His mouth arched into a smile as he once more laid his eyes on it.

‘Am I blessed by the goddess or what?’, he gazed on before hearing the entrance of Joel’s voice moments later. It’s soft and honeyed tune entering one ear and out the other.

“I recommend we be wary… Scorch, I think someone is still here, the one who killed this thing that is…”

“Oh really now? Well, it should be fine… after all, we have seven level twenties and two high twenties. I think we’d do jus-”, Scorch was cut off as once more a scream escaped the mouth of someone nearby. Reverberating throughout the air as it shrouded the group in a great silence that followed afterwards.

“The fuck is it no-”, the appearance of a darkened blue figure contrasted by the crimson blood that adorned it’s body came to view. It knelt upon the ground as it straightened it’s posture upon releasing it self from the bear’s reach. It staggered before gradually keeping itself upright through using the bear’s carcass as a support. Upon closer inspection it held a split cobalt visor that befitted the rest of it’s armour. On the majority of it’s figure were lines engraved into the armour, perhaps due to the way it was manufactured. It proceeded to scan it’s surroundings pistol in hand as it’s eyes came upon a dwarvish like man. It looked him over from head to toe before finally the sound of a hoarse voice came through.

“Thank you… now, who are you again?”

*Dmitry Sokolov*

Dmitry stood there perplexed and thrilled by the view before him. He glimpsed over the people opposite of him as a newfound joy within him surfaced to mind. They were all seemingly of different races as they sported different appearances and builds. A few were lean and tall, others short and stubby, and a small few had scales that adorned their bodies. But nevertheless they were similar to him, and that was enough he thought.

He then laid his eyes upon the one closest to him. He had a short build accompanied by stubby limbs, an orange beard that protruded from his chin, and an expression of confusion and fear painted onto his face. He inched away as he tripped over a piece of rubble positioned behind him. Falling next to the group with him as he lifted himself from the ground with the help of some stray debris. Dmitry awaited their response before gradually realising something was wrong. It was the mood and atmosphere, it just wasn’t right… But his thoughts were disrupted by a sole word that pierced through the ruins.

“SENTINEL!!!”

‘What…?’, thought Dmitry as he watched them raise their weapons in quick succession. Their faces expressed anger and terror as they went into offensive stances.

“Why the fuck is a Sentinel all the way out here?”

“Who knows! But if we don’t kill it now it’ll kill us all! Quickly!”

Having heard the man’s words they charged at him as they encroached on his position with hatred and contempt present in their eyes. In the background mages prepared magic as they supported the frontlines. Bathing them in a great luminescent light as they became faster and stronger. Their eyes were later glossed over with a crimson red as they bared their teeth in anger and rage. No fear was present in their eyes as they pressed on with even greater resolve. Dmitry however stood there speechless as he became panicked and confused.

‘Wha… What did I do wrong? Why?’, the sight of them approaching taunted him as time slowed down. The constant thoughts of ‘Why?’ and ‘What did I do wrong?’ replayed in his head like a broken cassette tape as they came closer.

‘We’re.. Practically the same aren’t we?’, he watched them as the weapons were inches from his armour as the sounds of them parting the air with their speed and power entered his ears.

‘What did I do wrong...?’, they slashed and pierced against his torso as he flew back into a pile of rubble. An outburst of sound similar to that of a whip being slashed through the air entered the groups ears as Dmitry’s cries of pain and gasps for breath were muffled by it. He proceeded to cough from the strength of such an attack as the start of tears began to accumulate at the rims of his eyes.

‘Am I… what’s wrong…?’, he looked to his right hand as he clenched it. Tears unconditionally trickling down his cheeks as he thought on.

‘I’m so confused…Is it what I am? Do they hate me for what I am? Because i’m… different?’, his emotions boiled as what was left of his sorrow and confusion became rage. Trailing it a wave of calm and tranquility as he was cleansed and soon brought forth into reality. The harsh, harsh reality of the world.

“Is it dead? Did we actually take it dow-”

The man’s words were suppressed by the sound of debris and rubble crashing into the ground as Dmitry surfaced from underneath.

‘No… I’m not in the wrong…’, he thought.

‘It was them… they are in the wrong… they are’, he looked to them as he too smiled with what little rage he held. His eyes glossed over with a killing intent as a need to fuel his hunger for blood called him.

‘And so… I will show you…’