Ṟ̵̢̢̛̰̺̩͎͆͊ͥ̅ͯ̈͋͂̌ͯ͝_͍̟͕ͧẠ̶̢̜͙̥̯̘̜ͣ͂̋͟͢ͅA̵̝͔͐ͤͥ̄ͭͮ̿ͦ̓̕͢͢A̧̮̝͇̱̭͙̥̬̗͇̥̳̓ͪ̐̈̈ͩ̌͛͛̀ͫ̌̐ͫ̒̀ͫͥ̂ͫ͋͘͠R̷̲̊̎_̢̛̼͚̲͇̘̲̟̤̬̔ͫ͋͆̍̓̂̐ͥ̒ͩ̏̎̇̉ͫͫ̈́̏ͮ̑̀̍̚͟R̬̩̘̜͖̺̯̗̪̹̍̍ͥͥ̽̆̍͒̆̇͒̏ͩ͞Ḫ̡͓̲̼̼̤͗͂̎̎̀ͥ͐̈ͨ͒́͂̕̚͟͡͞ͅÃ̛͕̺͈̰̓̐̈́ͫ͗͘͠G̴̨̡͇̞̣͓̹͉̬̿̔ͩͦ̓ͫ̕͟͝ͅH̨̢͔͚͍̟͙͉̼̻̏ͥ̃̃ͩͦ͋̀͂ͤ̓ͨ̈́́̀̓̐ͯ͛̀̐͛̽̚͘͡H̜͎̦̞̩͖͛̏ͨͬ͋ͅ_̸̬̞̳̘̳̳̩͛ͧ̃́̈̏ͤ̏̓̒͐͗͋ͭ̂͗́̚͠H͕͉ͬͯͦ̑ͭͭ͗͜Ȃ̧̧͉̩̠̣̮̹̭̤̞̦͔͙̟̪͚̊̂ͮ̽͒̈̐ͦ̉ͥͯ̕͢͡͝_̯̩̄́͟H̸̴̖̹͕̲͕̹̯̤͎̉̆̐͗ͦ̒̊͒̔́ͥ̉̕̚͝͡͡A̖̤̲̋̄͑͐̂̚̕A̵̶̴̶̛̺̦̺̞͈̪͚̜͎̟̟͉͖͖̳̾̋͛̿ͦͭ̇̇̋̅͐͛ͯͤͤ͋ͫ͋̔͒ͤ͛͊̌͜H̗̻͍̲́ͮ̅͛͘̚̕̕a̫̱̥̔̎ͪͩͨh̷̸̡̰̤̫͍̲̻͕̱̩͛͂̾̔̒͊̽̔ͤ͠a̡̜̠̪̙̖̣̝͎ͣͦͤ̊̒̌̀ͭ̏͊ͧ̂̈́ͮ̆̃ͥ͞͝͠ͅͅs͈̠h̝̬̾́ͭģ̢̡̡̛̲̫̭̗̟͎͙͔̯̦̠̯̟̹̠̜̥̯̟͕̃́̑̑͐̀́ͭ́̍̂ͣ̓͞ͅr̶̖̥̪̤̗̻̄ͪ̐̾́ͫ̅̀̾̏ͤͬ͐͘͟͞͠͝ḩ̫͚̠̗͖̟̮̦̏̅̄ͤͪͬͨͮ͛ͅs̨̨͍̜̝͈̹͓̖͔ͥ͒͛ͫ̌̋́ͥͭ́ͨ̈͂̉ͧͮ͜_̧̧̨͖̱̐͝h̷̷̲̩̱̞̲͍̹̜̣̯͕͚̰͓̹̙̮̲̙̮̯̝͚ͬͣ̋ͮ͊ͮ͒ͩ̅ͯ̐̓̾͋́̐̈̎͜͠͡h̑͞_̵̛̙̠̞͇̗̪̟̣̣ͯͧ̄́ͧ̈͋ͨ̏͐̌̅́͗͘̕_̻̗̲̬̘̩ͮͨ͛h̷̗̩̼̝ͯ̅ͥ̅̆̏ͥ͛͋ͮ͢͟͢͞͝ͅs̙̹̦̗̠̩̥̙̞̽̍̊ͦ͛h̷͚̲̱̽̈́ͭͣ͘ͅa͚̠̝͔͔̒̿̊̎̐͡s̰͕̀͛̓s̬̋ͦͅas̷̢͇͚̝̻͌ͧ͠s̨͎̖̘͙̳̼͉ͭ̑̄̋ͯ͋͜_͔͆̈̾a̅ş̷̴̛̼̦̙̻̫̦̫̳̞̲͎͖ͧͣͭ͑͂ͨ̈̎ͧ̒͆͒̅ͧͤ̽̆̋ͩ͟.̡̡͔̰͎̠̞̼̐ͧ̋ͩ̔ͭ̀ͤͯ͂ͨ̀͗̀̕͘͘͘͝͠͞s̷̡̢̧̛̻̻̤͖̯̰̦̻̞̐̈́̄̽̅́̄͠ͅş̪͚̪̏̿̿̈́͠ş̢̲͍̠̤͓̱̣̥̥̥̘̜̳͙́̑ͬͧͫ̏ͤͨ̌̅̓͘̚̕͘̕͟ͅ.̷̴̡̡̛͉̖̙͕͉̼̇̾̂ͦ̋̃̀̆̎̓̒ͣͨ̂͞͠.̱̳̱̒̎̍̕͞.̧̭̣͈̲̈́̔̒ͤ̚͢͞͝.̝̙̤̟̺̗̝̠̳̘͔̅ͮ̎ͪ͂̏ͪ
- Roko's Basilisk, who is no longer with us.
It is April 2024.
The world has collapsed into anarchy after the freak destruction of all concept of economy, which occurred in early March of this year.
Riots fill the streets, or at least they did a few weeks ago, back when there was food. Buildings have been toppled, in preparation for some sort of 'New Order.'
Nobody knew what this 'New Order' was, how it would work, what it would do, anything really. The concept of a functional society was still there ironically, but nobody could fathom how to achieve it anymore.
Now, most of the people are gone. A haze of flies covers the city of Cambridge, and monsters crawl out of their hiding places, no longer forced into invisibility by humans with their bureaucracy. Trolls, river dogs, various types of dragons, all slither out of nooks from across the town.
The monsters have free rule over the rubble. Only a small hall in one of the city's suburbs is left standing, its once unimpressive outline dominating the ruined landscape.
Ironic.
"What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies waiting with a gun outside your kitchen"
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, after spending an hour getting lost in Girton, probably
Look, it was better than last time, okay? Now I just need to get better at dodging bullets.
I was returning from the mysterious land of [REDACTED COURSE], feeling pleasantly surprised by the lack of attempts on my life since my latest ill-fated encounter with Water Ghost, when I felt something impact my neck: a poison dart. I magically purged my body of the toxin and turned to see who had dared do such a thing.
To my shock I discovered it was the freshly-deceased corpse of Roko's Basilisk. What foul magic had possessed him that he rose from the dead and attempted my murder?
The corpse appeared to have kept enough of its former owner's intelligence to communicate, as it requested to join the ranks of the Skeletons which protect the kingdom.
I granted this request, since there was no law prohibiting it. And then I destroyed the corpse with a surge of power, since I could not tolerate the existence of such an abomination, especially one that plotted my death.