How carelessly refuse is discarded and forgotten in the dark crevasses of the urban wilderness. The tainted overspill of human laziness given shape, given life, given new purpose. Reveling in the filth of the world, gathering it up and making it its own. Serenading the Earth with garbage. And we revile it, a superficial damnation of a creature we see as garbage. Or perhaps it is reviled because it is a reflection of our own waste. But it has adapted, it is alive, and it will inherit the trash of humanity.

Our consciousness streams inwards, crushing itself. Our mind barely has strength enough to stitch this world together anymore. It tears apart at the seam. The dark recesses of our mind bleed through. Nightmare tendrils reach down to strangle the colour from our form. We grew overconfident, riding high on the devastation of the guardians. But now, we are simply alone on a pile of battered corpses, they have no more energy to give. Our courage has been rent in twain again and again, and we simply do not have the fortitude for it anymore. All that is left is Desperation. All that is left is to blindly flail at the encroaching nightmares while we cling desperately to the decadence of our memories of former conquest. But we are alone now, courage left us a long time ago.

The first killing bite sends fibrous feelers through the Slitherhen in a capillary assault. Fungus starts to grow from the small creature as the Muttshroom starts to digest it before it even ingests it. It is not cruelty, it is merely natural efficiency. But its meal may soon be forfeit, as a hungry Dog Fish stalks in the distance. The Muttshroom starts to catch, but his, and everyone's satisfaction tonight is always in motion. Always tumbling, never certain.