Krish looked around. Of course they could not get out of the woods, but there was something else going on. The forest was filled with shadows. Not the type of shadows that everyone had seen. These shadows were different. These shadows were setting fire to the trees. As Krish stared At the flames, they realized that it was not the shadows but a large creature who was above them and what they thought was the shadows was actually a creature. This creature was so large it covered the whole woods. Krish Panicked and called the leaders over. When they saw the destruction that was happening. They tried to help everyone get out of the woods. What they had forgotten was that people can't leave the woods once they come in.
“Gurtle?!” Krish freaked out. “What happened to you?”
Some of the other members of tragedy came over when they heard Krish Freaking out.
Krish Followed Balrog-Gurtle Trying to figure out the way out of the woods. But no matter where they went there was always a dead end or too many trees to walk through. There was only one thing to do. Head back try to find the journal entries and see if there was a way out. But after hours, nothing. By then, everyone had started trying to put out the fires. Just as they successfully put out a lot of the ground fires, balrog-gurtle Returned. The soon come back here yeah job today she never does it I come back from school and do it yeah but I'm not gonna get up now because she's lazy you have an eraser with you don't you yeah good he black scales shimmered in the sunlight, which usually should have been pretty, but this was terrifying.
“What is that?!” Someone screamed.
“A Balrog!” One of the leaders exclaimed in fear.
“One might wonder what a Balrog is….” A voice murmured from the woods.
“Usually, they tend to be a towering dark creature with razor-sharp horns - quick to strike, and with deadly precision,” someone recited from a book.
“Well that sounds amazing,” Krish replied sarcastically.
As the trees continued to burn, they started to fall. There was now a path that seemed to wind far into the distance, where,, just maybe, there was a way out. Everyone ran down the path. The path ended soon. Unfortunately, not in a good place. It was right where the balrog-gurtle Was resting.
”honestly, I say we turn back…” one of the campers whispered fearfully.
It was just a second too late. The balrog woke up.. Everyone screamed, running in random directions. Krish grabbed onto the tail, Which caused the balrog to take off into the air and make their way To the main cabin and other cabins. Thankfully, there were other people there, but it wasn't like anyone could do anything much besides save Krish From falling to their de@th. This was because their hands had slipped off the tail and, they were falling. There were some people at the bottom ready to break their fall. Everyone watched as the balrog-gurtle Continued flying in a circle above them and suddenly it started to get warmer. There was a large fire right behind them. The fire, it was on the main cabin. There was no more water to use and people were panicking. Again.
“Hopefully we get out of this alive!” Krish was trying to use sand, hoping it would help put out something.
“You’re not the only one,” came another voice.
And as they watched it fly away the fires started to vanish, which they hoped meant that as long as it wasn't nearby,. Then the fires would go away. That was false. It was r They hadn't noticed. it was so warm out, that the rain who's barely noticeable. The thing is it started pouring. All the fires were out and Krish made their way back to the woods to tell their cabin members what happened.

“Water… gurtle doesn’t like water in this form…”
“ I am not scared anymore.”

676 words

claimed! please contact me on my profile when it’s my turn to write, this is so hard to keep track of ahaha
if I don’t respond within 10 minutes, feel free to skip me

Ayla stood in what was left of the Thriller cabin, anxiously fidgeting with her hair. “I should go help…” She whispered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she headed out of what was left of the cabin. The gurtle balrog thing, was still terrorizing the camp, smashing things and breathing fire. Ayla ran to the reck of once was the word war hut, now smash and burned to pieces. But plenty of weapons still lay in the broken wood and ashes. Why is everything made out of wood? Pretty much ALL of us set stuff on fire sometimes she thought as she picked up a sword from the rubble. Ayla went out to find Gurtle Turtle the Balrog, “Gurtle Turtle, Gurtle Turtle. Heh, good rhyme.” She murmured to herself. Gurtle Balrog was still burning and smashing things, in that cute little pirate hat. Where did he get pirate hat? Wait, Gurtle uses he/him pronouns, right? Ayla’s mind begane wondering again. Focus! She watched Gurtle Turtle the Balrog, STILL smashing and burning things, while other camper where trying to hit him with frying pans, or swords, or bows and arrows. Well, they’re not trying to HIT him with the bow part of bows and arrows, just the arrow part, she thought. Ayla charged at Gurtle Turtle the Balrog, aaaand, was knocked over and sent flying a bit, great. Well, that wasn’t really her current thought, even if it was, it was in the background for her main thought at moment (and what she was saying currently) was “AHHHHHHH WAHHHH AHHHHHHH ACKKKK OWWWWWWW” As she smashed into the ground “Ow ow ow ow, stupid stupid stupid, ow ow ow ow.” She cursed under breath as she slow got up. Her sword was no where to be seen, “Shoot, shoot, shoot!” She screamed, which turned out to be a horrible idea since then Gurtle Turtle the Balrog tried to SMASH her with his giant huge foot (Foot? Fin? Paw?), and she was just able to dash out of the way with her quick mantis legs, before his foot smashed into the ground, sending dirt and campers flying. “Wait, hang on” Ayla said to herself as she thought a moment “We don’t HAVE A MOMENT!” Screamed on camper, who was trying to smack Gurtle Turtle the Balrog with their frying pan. “My mantis legs! They’re dangerous!” Ayla said, now grinning evilly. Readying her mantis legs, she ran at the Gurtle Turtle Balrog, screaming, and slapped him with her sharp, bladed mantis legs. “HA!” She yelled as she slapped him.

426 words <3

⇾ Side Story … ⚘

“Smarlls!” Poppy cried as the mascots came into view. “Benny, Jim, Saturn!”
Hope is an ibex, a crab, a dragon, and a planet-being, striding in over the mountaintops.
Poppy decided that she was done being poetic.
Poppy waves her frying pan triumphantly, gladly shouting for joy and praising the glories of SWC.
Poppy practically cartwheels with excitement, except Poppy has no idea how to cartwheel, so instead she falls directly onto her face. It's a pathetic, embarrassing fall, but everyone has turned their attention to the mascots that no one is around to see how completely inept she is at all things athletically.
The battle was in full swing, but even greater was the hope pouring into the crowd.
People were shouting, sobbing, throwing down their swords, hugging each other, cheering, and breaking out bottles of non-alcoholic mango champagne.
Which is totally natural, of course. It's not a result of insanity.
SWC saves itself. It does that every time.
It's a group of insane people. (Occasionally) chaotic people. Strong people. Funny people. Smart people. King people.
Amazing people.
This is what happens when a bunch of people join together in this sort of way. Everyone comes together three times a year for a month of fun, support, and camaraderie.
Nothing matches it.
Yeah, people betray each other in wars. They send hours of late-night writing to one another, praying that no one will be awake to finish it. They bicker over the leaderboard, trying to knock each other down. They argue about who's cabin is better (though everyone knows which one is superior).
But in all honesty, none of it really matters that much. Sessions come and go, but somehow the friendships and laughter lasts longer than all of it. Cabins change, dailies change, nearly everything about this camp changes through the years.
But what never changes is the passion for words and the friendship that marks every single aspect of SWC.
The cheers that rise out of the campers echo through the air, off the mountains and the cabins, back to the ears of the thrilled campers.
Smarlls's hoofs clomp loudly on the ground, as Benny clacks his pincers and Saturn adjusts his adorable crown on his adorable head. Jim is cheering louder than everyone, and the sound is… deafening.
Poppy stands in the midst of the joyful chaos, gripping a handful of pencils. The smile on her face couldn't come off, even if Poppy tried.
All is well.

⇾ 413 words ⚘
⇾ thriller cabin ⚘

500 words

Chuey was exhausted. It had been a long, tiring day of fighting–not only against the Balrog, but against cabins who had taken advantage of the chaos to set enemy cabins on fire. Betrayals, traitors, weary cabin mates…she was facing a disaster. Sighing, Chuey sat down to put out the fire, even though she was sick of the smell of smoke by this point. After all, if she didn't do it, who would? Her cabin was in shambles–not that that was unique to Fan-fi. Everyone was tired, and the Balrog was still rampaging, albeit with less energy. Campers had been fighting against it all day, and it was finally beginning to weaken. But it wasn't enough. They needed more. Chuey took a quick break, gazing sadly at the rubble lying around camp. Good grief, when she'd signed up for this, she'd been anticipating lighthearted mangoes and arson, not this. This…this was total destruction. And it was all Gurtle's fault. Growling to herself over the injustice of it–She'd seen Gurtle's true nature, but had anyone listened to her? No! She was like…like a rebel. The word settled around her, and slowly she nodded. Yeah. Chuey was a rebel. An outcast. Not in matters of friendship–she had lots of friends. But she stood against the Scratch writing camp mascot while everyone was still defending him–“Oh, he's just eating a couple of links, he's just hungry, look at his cute, beady eyes.” She'd seen this coming. No, no. Rebel was all wrong. She was a herald. One who could see what lay beyond. Yeah, she liked that better. The herald of doom. Doom to all enemies, doom to traitors, and most especially doom to Gurtle. A smile slashed across her face. Balrog-Gurtle didn't stand a chance. Because Chuey had seen him, and Chuey knew what was going to happen, and unable to stop it in time, Chuey was going to make it right and save them all. She left her cabin behind and struck out into the rubble, working to clear it away from the remains of the Main Cabin. She'd hidden something inside, something she'd never thought she'd have to use. But times were desperate, and the fires weren't going out. She walked quickly along the ruined, scorched halls until she reached a tiny, ash-covered, circular door. Blowing the dust and ash away, she reaching for the gleaming golden knob and gently opened it. Beyond lay intense brilliance, suggesting full daylight wherever the door led to, and as she blinked away the sudden light she could dimly see rolling green hills and mounds, into which were set circular doors much like this one. Her smile widened as she wriggled through. If she couldn't find enough help in this world…well, she'd just have to seek it from another one.
She was a rebel. A herald. And now a quester.
And she'd bring Balrog-Gurtle down if it killed her.
(Although she really, really, really hoped it wouldn't)

So the gang continued happily forward to rescue the people of SWC, but they didn't get far when they ran into an obstacle on the way! It turns out that they were simply unable to continue on because they ran into a muddy ditch. Quicksand-like and slick, it was very difficult for the gang to make it out of there.
“I think it's a tar pit, actually,” Churchill corrected the narration.
“You know what else is like a tar pit? The stifling stench of capitalism!!” Marx insisted to the group as he fell more and more deeply into the tar pit, much to everyone's concern.
“I think we're gonna be stuck here,” Sandy said worriedly, surveying the group around her. Smarlls, Marc Mangosen, and Monty gazed at her worriedly as well. “Smarlls, can you go on ahead?” Smarlls was the only one who was basically free of the tar pit.
“But you guys need to come out???”
“We'll be fine,” Monty pointed out. “If we like stay still and hold onto a tree branch or something… I'm not sure, but the main cabin is more important! We're not gonna die here if you leave us alone, I promise.”
Sandy, Churchill, Marx, and Marc Mangosen all gave the ibex similar reassurances, and so Smarlls turned around and headed in the direction of the main cabin, throwing one regretful look back at the people in the tar pit before setting off at a full trot.
“Well, I guess Smarlls is gonna save everyone without us, then,” Monty grumbled. “In the meantime, how exactly do I stop sinking?”
“Pull really hard on that branch over there, maybe,” Churchill pointed to the tree branch in the distance. It was a tree root, as a matter of fact, but the gang minus Smarlls didn't particularly want to waste time with technicalities.
“You do it, Prime Minister,” Marx told Churchill. The Marxist was sliding deeper and deeper in, with his chin almost touching the surface of the pit.
“Alright,” Churchill agreed, and grabbed for the roots. He managed to pull himself out of the deep pit, although not without leaving behind his top hat, and then reached out a hand to help Marx as well. Sandy and Marc didn't particularly take the prime minster for the athletic type, but he did manage to pull out Marx with surprisingly little difficulty. Then the two of them helped out Sandy and Marc as well, and so they ended up chilling next to the tar pit and doing their best to brush off the tar.
“I'm going to take a nice long bath when this is over,” Marc said stiffly.
“Hey, at least we don't have to fight now,” Sandy said. There was basically no point fighting with tar-stained clothes and a ridiculously long journey back to the cabin, given their… tar-ness. The SWCers would've probably defeated the Balrog-Gurtle or whatever it was attacking the cabin. They were in good hands.
“Well, I guess I'll just eat this then,” Marx said as he gobbled up a mango.

508 words!!

can I claim? =0

never mind skip me

Claiming for side story as well as spot in main story if possible-
I'm typing but seems as if the story is wrapping up!

Nom poofed back to her cabin and ended up on her desk. She wondered what had happened with Bagrog so far and glanced out the window. He was still spewing fire out at the fellow campers. She sighed, longing to help, but she did not know how… a fly buzzed in her face and she swatted it away. Then she looked at her smoke bombs, she had an idea, she started writing in her journal what she would do. She slumped, two more messages and then she could enter the war. Nom was a new camper, she had joined late and felt lonely. She had already caused confusion in the poor Fantasy cabin. She covered her face in embarrassment. “Two more messages…two more messages,” she repeated. Hopefully her time would come soon. The door suddenly flung open, a panicked camper scrambled in. His face covered in ash, “ITS CHAOS OUT THERE,” he panicked then immediately hid under her shelf of messages and stories. “Agreed,” she looked on. If only she could help…

172 words -nom

SIDE STORY: 513 words

for her birthday last year, lark had been given a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. they were really quite remarkably effective, she thought, unaware of the chaos happening all around the nearby camp.

rightly figuring that her cabin could handle the wars against the other cabins, lark had taken to the forest to make a traditional celebratory souffle. the premise of a campfire cooked souffle seemed slightly absurd, but how else was she supposed to surprise her cabin? it was, in hindsight, perhaps not the most considerate idea. but who had expected gurtle to attack? certainly not her.

so, right before cabin wars had begun, lark had scrambled to the nearby grove of trees, with her bag of baking ingredients in tow. she connected her headphones via bluetooth and scrolled briefly through spotify before settling on some folk. joni mitchell was back on spotify, and naturally she was perfect for this occasion.

there was the small issue of starting the fire, however. she'd watched enough survivor to have a vague idea of what to do, and she'd been to many a campfire, but it seemed like her glasses couldn't focus the sunlight enough to light the pile of twigs she set up. maybe she needed a better base?

she could have always run back to the dystopian cabin. she probably SHOULD have run back to her cabin, and then she would have noticed the epic battle going on. then she would have cast all thoughts of souffles aside, and joined in. but it was kind of a long walk back to the cabin, and she'd just gotten to her favorite song on blue. maybe she'd try just a tad more to make this fire all on her own.

so she started from the base up, beginning with leaf litter and tiny twigs, and progressing to logs and the like. it looked, by all means, like it could catch on fire. the problem was it wasn't. then, just as she'd begun to reconsider, a flaming chunk of debris fell from the sky, clear evidence of the gurtle's destruction. but also, on fire! a perfect little firestarter for her souffle. taking a branch and lighting it on the debris, she then lit her campfire.

sure, flaming debris was a tad concerning. but she chalked it up to standard cabin wars, and chose not to worry about it. after all, worry never baked a cake! or a souffle, for that matter. and she was going to make her celebratory souffle.

so she got out the frying pan from the parcel she'd brought, and began to whip together a mixture of eggs and other souffle-like ingredients. There were eggs and milk and flour, and all of those other things you need to make a soufflé, which, of course lark was perfectly aware of. placing the baking contraption she made over the fire and pouring the mixture into her pan, lark waited on her dish to rise. then she felt the ground vibrate beneath her. It was quite odd, and frankly would likely not be good for the soufflé.

Side story - 723 words

Kit really wished she’d read Lord of the Rings right now.
She’d gotten the gist of what a balrog was. It was pretty hard not to, with one rampaging around, burning the camp down. But she didn’t know the details… Did it have any weaknesses they could exploit? Would it still have those weaknesses when it was also a turtle?
Normally, she would just check Lord of the Rings Wiki, but her computer had been destroyed, crushed by a falling pillar.
Script was in ruins. The whole camp was in ruins. Everything was on fire, much more than normal, even normal cabin wars. For a camp that worshipped arson so much, they were surprisingly unprepared for a fire-breathing monster.
Kit really should do something. But what? She hadn’t been trained by the frying pan cult. And she didn’t have bug powers like the Thriller campers. She was just an actor playing a child who wants to play with fire, and playing with this fire wasn’t going to do much good. She realized she’d even been slacking on her acting role… Not that it would matter, with the theatron destroyed.
Normal cabin wars she could handle. She loved normal cabin wars. But not this. Cabins were hardly even warring each other today, too, everyone was so busy with Gurtle the Balrog. Of course he chose cabin wars as the day to strike.
What had happened to him? Was he planning it all along? Or did something about this day of chaos get to him, turn him into this beast?
Did it even matter?
She was actually relatively safe just hanging around the wreckage of the Script cabin for the moment. Balrog-Gurtle had already come through there, and was currently busy elsewhere. Still, sitting around here wasn’t doing any good. She should go help. She should go fight. Somehow.
She wasn’t completely powerless, was she? Maybe she could… summon the goats? The old goats from Adventure November 2021? She wasn’t sure where to find them, though… Wait, didn’t Fairy Tales have goats this session? Were the goats okay? She should check if they were okay.
Then it came to her - the bridge trolls! Maybe they could help somehow! Maybe if she convinced them that the Balrog was trying to eat the goats, the goats that the trolls wanted for themselves, they’d help fight it? She wasn’t sure how much good a couple of trolls would do against this beast, but it had to be better than nothing. And if the Balrog ate the trolls… Well, then the trolls wouldn’t be able to terrorize the goats anymore, so no harm there.
She took off running, past Fairy Tales, and to the troll bridge.
There they were, under the bridge - Grumpy and Lovely.
Kit stopped to catch her breath. “Hey- trolls,” she panted. “There’s a- thing. The Balrog? The… the monster that’s destroying camp. It used to be Gurtle- Never mind. The point is, can you help fight it?”
“WHY ME HELP YOU?” said Grumpy.
“Because it’s going to eat the goats if you don’t,” Kit lied. At least, she hoped it was a lie, hoped Gurtle wouldn’t actually hurt the goats.
Grumpy scowled. “BUT ME EAT GOATS.”
“Yes, I know. But if you don’t stop this thing, it’s going to eat all the goats, and there won’t be any left for you! You don’t want that, do you?”
Grumpy stopped to think about that, still scowling.
“Lovely, you want to help, don’t you?” Kit looked at the pink troll desperately.
Lovely shook their head. “That thing seems scary.”
Grumpy nodded. “YES. BARLOG TOO BIG. ME NO FIGHT IT.”
Kit decided not to point out that Grumpy had said Barlog, not Balrog. “But- But if you don’t fight it, it will destroy everything, even your bridge!”
“THEN ME FIND BETTER BRIDGE. MAYBE ME GET INSURANCE IF BRIDGE DESTROYED.”
“Do you… have insurance on your bridge?” Kit asked. She was surprised the trolls had any idea what insurance was.
Grumpy didn’t answer.
Kit sighed, exasperated. “Are you going to help us or not?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Fine.” This was getting nowhere. “But you’ll regret this when you have no bridge to live under and no goats to eat.” She stomped off. What a waste of time that was.
She should probably check if the goats actually were okay…

Side story!

Luna sighed heading back to her cabin. If she was being honest, she just wanted to ignore the whole battle and against Gurtle. She had enough of this. The first stage. Denial.
She walked along a cobble-stoned path like the grass wasn’t on fire and she wasn’t trying not to choke on the smoke and ash like she had already done several times. She walked towards her sibling cabin dystopian to drop off a batch of cookies like people weren’t screaming and burning, destructive flames weren’t being hurled at cabins, trees, and campers. She skipped along as if nothing weird was going on and people were also having a normal cabin wars day.
She knocked on Dystopian’s door, which she pretended wasn’t creaking and falling apart in front of her. A camper opened it. “Hello,” she chirped. “I have a little present for you!” She handed them a basket of mangoes. “I promise you, it’s not a war,” she grinned. The camper looked at the basket, then at her, then at the Chaos outside the cabin.
“Are…you…insane?” The camper gaped at her. “It’s literally destruction and terror out there.”
“Where?” Luna turned around, pretending she didn’t see anything. “Are you okay?”
The camper paused. “I don’t even know anymore,” they sighed and closed the door on her. She felt kind of bad for twisting the truth like that on the camper, but she shrugged anyway and headed back to the main cabin. The roof had collapsed, so she decided to head to Sci-fi instead. In her other hand was a sticky note she planned to post on a cabin. She fanned the sticky note, letting it dance on the breeze as she sauntered down the path, totally “oblivious” to her surroundings. A few campers stopped and stared at her, bewildered. She didn’t mind and smiled at them. Their faces turned into horrified looks of pure shock and she didn’t turn back to them.
She came to Sci-fi and knocked on her door. She pretended she didn’t hear an earsplitting roar behind her and more campers going insane. She “didn’t” even notice. No one answered the door. She sighed and knocked once more. Again, no one answered. “Oh well,” she said to herself and stuck the sticky note under the door where she was sure they would find the war she had just sent them.
She went on her way once more. Someone cried out for help. She paused. She could pretend like they didn’t just cry out. But she was a better person than that. They cried out again, half-sobbing. Luna turned around, heading into the midst of chaos. “I’m coming!” She called. She could barely see anything. It was red and dark. “Where are you?”
“I’m here! Please help!” She raced in the direction of the voice.
She slowed to a jog as she ran into the forest. “Where?”
“Here!” They were closer than she expected, and she sank to the ground and searched through piles of debris and rock. The person stuck out a dirty hand that she almost missed if she hadn’t looked up. “I hear you…” The camper was not completely buried, but ash and soot covered their face, blending them in with their surroundings. Luna got up and pulled them, slowly getting them out of the ashy mess.
“Thank you-” they said, limping a little.
“Of course. Are you hurt?”
They nodded and Luna helped walk them back to camp. She couldn’t help wondering what would’ve happened to this camper if she kept up the act. She sighed. Nothing good, and it would be all her fault.


604 words

The Conclusion

Aurora was exhausted. They’d been following Poppy around for a while now, yelling at just about everyone to help somehow, someway. And now…
They looked up at the sky as Jim Flabsdz soared over their head, the immortal sky dragon pirate scooping up a piece of what used to be the Main Cabin and hurling it at Balrogurtlegon, who staggered a bit, reacting with a deafening roar. Saturn Peeles came next, telepathically lifting motivation mangos and procrastination potatoes, hurling them at the beast. Although he started off eating them, there were just too many, and he collapsed, but not without sending out another blast of hellish flames, causing chaos as the previously celebrating campers began to bolt out of the way.
Aurora was split from the rest of their cabin, tripping over a fallen tree from where the Tragedy cabin used to lie. They let out a whimper and scooted away from it as it caught flames, glancing around for any safe place. Deciding on the Sci-Fi cabin, which was partially made of something that was at least slightly fireproof, Aurora fluttered their wings, landing on the roof, turning to watch the mascots battle. Campers had also begun to take up weapons themselves, running towards the black-scaled monster, screaming their best battle cries. Aurora slumped onto the roof, far too tired to keep going. They had tried a few arrows, and a few frying pans, but they just weren’t working, and now they were just ready for all of this to be over.
Luckily, hope had begun to arrive.
Smarlls slammed his horns into Gurtle, who was struggling to get back on his feet with the campers and Benny beginning to clamber on his back. They had swords, frying pans, maces, bows, even pieces of what used to be their beloved cabins… Aurora almost felt bad for Gurtle. They were very aware at the destruction they had caused, the amount of fear and anger that had boiled up within them and everyone else… they had heard people scream and cry, watched plans fail, experience those who brought up their fellow campers with poems and stories…they were all writers after all.
Yet, a piece of Aurora still hoped…that Gurtle would be okay.
The ground erupted into flames, campers fleeing as the Balrogurtlegon let out a deafening roar. Aurora saw Benny fall off his back and into the fire, and Smarlls bolt out, rolling on the ground to douse the flames. The monster stood up once more, visibly exhausted, but he wasn’t finished yet. He wouldn’t stop until every single camper was gone.
Aurora felt a drip on their head.
Looking up, they saw the clouds above the camp. They assumed it was just smoke and ash caused from Gurtle’s reign of chaos, but it was actually real rain!
As it began to pour, Gurtle let out a weak roar, the rain sizzling against his scales. *Of course,* Aurora thought. *Water puts out fire. It’s in every video game!* The ground became cool again, the red of the landscape fading into brown. The red pulsing between Gurtle’s scales started to fade, the metal under Aurora’s hands cooling as they got drenched. With the beast weakened and the fires extinguished, the mascots returned, the campers beginning to cheer their names as they rushed at the monster one final time.
“Smarlls!”
“Saturn!”
“Benny!”
“Jim!”
Gurtle tried to breathe out fire, only coughing out smoke, before getting pinned down by Jim, Benny giving him a harsh pinch. Smarlls dug his horns into his scales, and using whatever space magic they could wield, Saturn blasted him with a pulse of glowing white and yellow energy.
Gurtle fought, trying to run away. Aurora frowned and flew down, being called over by Violet, Faith, and Poppy. The group had made a plan that could save Gurtle, and were ready to execute it.
“GURTLE!” They called out, holding up mangos. Aurora saw a bit of the turtle they loved as the dragon turned to look at them. “It’s okay…” Aurora whispered, approaching him. “We don’t want to hurt you anymore…just stop destroying everything…please…”
The other mascots stepped aside as the weak Balrogurtlegon opened its mouth to eat the group’s mangos. They gently lobbed them into his mouth, and he consumed them slowly, before beginning to evaporate, his massive form becoming smoky and fading away. Aurora put a hand over her mouth. Were they losing him?
When the smoke cleared, the mascots and the four campers crowded around what remained. A Very Exhausted Gurtle laid there, beginning to fall asleep. Aurora smiled and scooped him up, before turning to the rest of the campers.
They held the sweet little turtle in the air.
The camp burst into cheers.
And high above them, on their thrones, the tyrants began to awaken…

Thriller || 800 words || ~16000/15000
Cabin Wars Final Boss Complete
(I hope)
(Please hosties I’m begging you I’ve tried too hard to fail now)

Haha Luna was here for the finale XD

--Artsy_Girl-- wrote:

Haha Luna was here for the finale XD

Chuey is also present and accounted for the finale!!

TwT Summer wasn’t able to write anything but she’s here to celebrate with yall

ChueyTheCat wrote:

--Artsy_Girl-- wrote:

Haha Luna was here for the finale XD

Chuey is also present and accounted for the finale!!

Along with Krish

Can I join the finale party?

The best of all possible worlds. The giver of blessings. None of that meant anything anymore.
Wild was done trying to justify what was beyond them. They were so small, so insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. Their actions didn’t change much. They were no prophet. It was not up to them to influence the decisions of others.
Scratch Writing Camp would always change, face betrayal and destruction, then spring right back, all the better for it. It was because of this perpetual change that its core values were able to persist throughout the years.
“So yeah, maybe it’s pointless to even try to shape the universe the way I want it,” Wild announced to the ravaged landscape. “But you know what? Sitting here and grieving about it is SO boring. If there’s one thing I CAN do, it’s write an interesting story.”
That was what it had all been about, all along, wasn’t it? Seven sessions, and each time, Wild had chosen to be there for a reason. To be with fellow writers, to compete and have fun, to learn and improve, but above all, to make their own story an interesting one. So, though it may not have mattered in the end whether they took action or did nothing, Wild chose the more interesting one.
“Chuey!” Wild called, striding up to her confidently, no longer walking for Gurtle’s sake, but for their own.
Chuey paused in front of a circular door, looking exhausted but determined. She squinted suspiciously at Wild. After all, they hadn’t parted on great terms the last time they’d seen each other.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first,” Wild apologizes, nodding their head in concession. “I’ve had a lot of tough realizations all at once this Cabin Wars.”
Chuey looks surprised, but smiles. “You may have predicted the roleplay curse, but it turns out I was the herald all along. Herald of doom- but this time, it will be doom to Gurtle.”
Wild gives a half-smile. Maybe this time, it was Chuey’s turn to have a character arc about delusions of grandeur. Far be it from Wild to interfere. Raising their weary arms, they high-five once more.
“Good luck on your quest,” Wild replies, glancing at the door.
“See you when it’s over,” Chuey responds softly, leaving the unspoken ‘if we survive’ hanging in the air for a brief, bittersweet moment.
Wild continues on their way, approaching the thick of the battle. Several campers had fallen- poisoned mangoes, flaming attacks from Balrog-Gurtle, and pure exhaustion had taken their toll. But Wild was proud to see that even more continued to fight. No matter how dire things became, SWCers didn’t give up. In fact, they tried even harder under pressure.
That familiar thrill ran through Wild’s blood, too. It was the same adrenaline rush they got when speedrunning a weekly or submitting a daily at the last minute. It was only when faced with a great danger, whether they be a deadline or a flaming monster, that Wild could achieve great accomplishments and feel more alive than ever.
Wild spies Poppy in the center of it all, the other SWC mascots surrounding her, larger than life. But for all their magnificence, Wild could only focus on Poppy silhouetted against the light of the fires, frying pan in hand. Her glorious words seemed to sparkle all around, invisible but resonating in every camper’s heart just the same. Words were what brought them together.
Wild picked up a frying pan off the ground, laughing slightly at the absurdity of it. It represented the insanity of their creativity, the thing that brought them to this camp in the first place, and now, the thing that just might save them. Gripping the frying pan as if it belonged there in their hand, Wild slipped into the mass of campers, who were already beginning to celebrate, having witnessed the coming of the other mascots.
Energy flowed through the atmosphere, the thoughts and emotions and words of so many writers who had been through so much. Writers who fought to defend their home, not the buildings, for those changed every session, but the elusive sense of belonging that came from simply being together with other amazing, chaotic people. It didn’t matter that everything had been destroyed. Stories could not be erased so easily. Wild drank in the elated sensation.
They belonged here. They didn’t need Gurtle to bless their writing. Everything Wild needed to write to their fullest could be found in the other campers, and within themselves. Raising their frying pan high, they faced the looming end of Cabin Wars. Would it be over now? It didn’t matter. They would keep going regardless. “For SWC!” they called.

789 words, Thriller