Kickoff written by Alexeii

The Hunt; Human sludge

Man condemned to sloppy misery

As I stagger backward, a wave of terror crashing over me like a tidal wave, I feel my body betray me in the most horrifying way imaginable. It starts with a lightly tingling sensation, like thousands of tiny needles pricking my skin from within. I clutch at my chest, hoping to alleviate the growing pressure somehow, but it only worsens spreading fast like a malevolent fire through every inch of my body.

The pain intensifies, searing through every fiber of my being as if I am being consumed by flames from the inside out. I can feel my muscles convulsing in spasms, twisting a contorting in ways that surely defied natural order. Panic surges within me, a primal flight instinct urging me to flee, but my own limbs refused to obey, weighed down by the overwhelming agony coursing through them.


I try to scream; to call for help even in a realm of nothing, but my vocal cords betray me. Their once-familiar function now twisted and melted by the same forces ravaging my body. My words,
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my miserable plea for help, dissolved by a guttural choke, barely cohesive as human. Desperation claws at my throat as I fight to make sense of the nightmare unfolding within me.


I gasp, sludgy substances blocking the air from coming out of my lungs as all that comes from my lips is a pitiful gurgle, my hopeless words succumbing to the relentless onslaught of liquefaction.

My skin bubbles and oozes, sloughing off in grotesque sheets and layers, kind of like a frying onion, as I collapse to the ground, helpless against the inevitably unstoppable tide of transfiguration.

Each movement sends waves of excruciating agony rippling through me, a cruel and constant reminder of the inhumane fate that awaits me.

I try to speak again, to piece together some form of words, to plead to this creature for mercy, but all that emerges from my dripping lips is a sickening gurgle, thick with the viscous fluid of my melting flesh that had long begun to fill my throat. Tears mingle with the
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molten meat streaming down my barely recognisable cheeks; the last remnants of my humanity melting into a pile of fleshy sludge.

It looks down at the thick puddle, eyes narrowed with distaste at the pitiful sight before it. The hunt hadn’t even tried to put up a fight. It had just accepted its fate in the saddest way possible. All those millennia, just for the one it had been assigned to allow itself to be condemned to its death without a single thread of resistance.

As they begin to move the sludge to a clear glass flask, 0 9 1 supposes they can still get some fun from hunting the other unassigned hunts running in panic around outside.

They truly do get such amusement in feeding on the terror that fills the hunts’ eyes to the brim. 0 9 1 takes a sip of the shuman soup.

Admittedly, this new experimental method of mine doesn’t taste all that bad. Just a little… They glance down at the remnants left sticking like gum to the rug.
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