dlthedescent

[dlthedescent]

I accidentally stumbled upon this fanfiction about 3 weeks ago, and I’ve been reading intently every day I have free time, and I just gotta ask, as a massive fan of Dying Light; will Crane’s selflessness and instinct to protect others affect his new, monstrous instincts?

Yes, I know the beast within is kinda…tamed…for now, but…

Oh, and also, I’m REALLY hoping that Crane, as an apex of the infected, is at some point able to “communicate” with Volatiles.

Things like telling them to stand down, or hunt, etc.

Sort of like an Alpha, I guess.

Thank you very much for stumbling and enjoy the fic!

As for the question, as far as this fic has gone, that's sorta been tackled a few times but it is a thought further down the line now that we're in Harran Arc. Now for the communication with infected, it's not something I've thought of with brainstorming on Crane's mutation and may not for this fic since the mindset I had was "infected don't like him one bit, even as an infected". That saaaaid...it is an interesting idea for a future Descent sequel but, maybe not for Crane but for someone else. :3c So thank you!

[dlthedescent]

TWENTY-SIX: BACK TO SQUARE ONE

Stability slowly returned to Train Depot. 

Spike couldn’t believe it as he reached the entrance. He had thought they’d lost the entire Depot. Everything had gone to hell . 

Yet, not everything in the station was lost. Some were injured and others were grieving, but they still had their lives.

Another day to survive.

The question, could they fully recover? It gnawed at him but Spike pressed on, directing his men to stick to the protocols: keep the Virals out, tend to the fallen, and check the defenses for any holes. 

Every second counted—noon was already approaching.

Spike passed the station and moved into the Loading Bay, sifting through the debris. He found one of the lead engineers, leading a few rookies to douse the last of the flames.

“Demir!” he called. “That explosion-”

“It’s alright,” Demir assured him as he settled his crossbow aside and rubbed his bruised shoulder from the recoils. “That lady and her friend held the line long enough for us to do a patch job.” 

“Jack?”

“That her name? They couldn’t have come at a better time.” 

“Any injuries?”

“Few scratches. Lost three during that breach… And…”

Demir’s glance shifted towards the one thing Spike couldn’t ignore even if he tried. 

The inferno had died down. But the twisted, scorched remains of a train were a painful sight… All that hard work, gone in an instant.

It would have been D-Day in two days… All they had been missing was getting ready to tear down the Quarantine wall.

Demir sighed, exhausted. “We’re not getting out of Harran, Spike.”

Spike clenched a fist, fighting off the creeping resignation. That had been the entire goal—getting everyone he managed to save out of Harran. Those from the Slums, and the Border.

They were almost ready…

But Spike steeled himself. If he were to break like he nearly did on top of the rooftop, then he might as well call it quits and leave.

“We’ll continue this at the station,” Spike said firmly. “…Mark my words, I’ll get everyone out.”

“Yeah… Sure.” Demir was rooted in his spot. But he wasn’t one to mourn over a train—Tunc had been lamenting over the burning Hilzi for the last five minutes. So eventually, he headed to the station.

Spike hurried off, searching for the woman in red and her hooded companion. 

A minute later, he skidded to a stop once he spotted them by the container.

���Jack.”

Spike could have sworn he saw a dark look on her face. But it vanished as she turned gracefully, with her charismatic smile.

“How’s everything holding up?”

“Good. Thanks to you both.” Spike said, exhaling a mix of relief and exhaustion. “...That offer still on the table?”

“Always,” she replied. Her quiet friend didn’t object, either.

Crane watched the man waver. No. More like he couldn’t be more happy to hear her answer. Spike needed all the help they could get.

“Follow me.” And Spike hustled down the tracks, leading them to the Border station.

What was once a place for travelers to relax and wait for departures had been repurposed into a base of operation for the engineers

Among the blue-uniformed workers with soot, sweat, and blood, a few stood out—former station and train staff. While they lacked the experience to understand trains, that didn’t mean they couldn’t help however they could.

The air was heavy, however. Their numbers had thinned in just an hour, with some shaken and some holding themselves together. Two medics in waterproof jackets worked quickly, patching up the injured. Few dared ask what had gone wrong.

Losing a Safe Zone was one thing. Trying to recover it was another.

Spike led the Runners to the heart of the station: the dispatch room, where Demir had arrived moments earlier and wasn’t alone. 

Two figures sat near the radio: a stewardess and a radio operator with his hand on the gooseneck microphone, both frazzled. In a corner, a man sat sniffling, his swollen eyes and red nose that Crane wondered if he had lost something precious during the breach.

“Demir,” Spike broke the silence, “are there any other trains we can use?”

“You’re serious?”

Before Demir could start, the operator exploded from his seat. The chair slammed against the wall with a thud .

“You want to try this again?!” Andrej snapped, voice thick with frustration. “Six weeks! Six weeks of  just…waiting.”

Marisol, the stewardess, with six years of service, was well-known for her patience under pressure. She had managed her team, stayed organized, and calmed displaced passengers when crises arose. But nothing in her training could have prepared her for the past several months. 

“Andrej-” she tried to calm him down.

“We’ve been living next to a Quarantine Wall, for fuck’s sake!” Andrej gestured wildly, unable to contain his anger. How absurd and terrifying the very idea was for six weeks . “Sinan warned us this could happen and look at where he is! Dead! Along with half of the crew!”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Everyone in the room had seen the bodies and no one argued back.

To Andrej and Marisol, watching death on a screen had been gnawing with fear and dread. For Demir and Tunc, they couldn’t save as many people as they had wished, despite all the best defenses and traps Spike’s team had prepared.

The two newcomers were the quietest. Crane glanced at Jack, expecting her to intervene with her magic but she stayed quiet, watching. 

Sometimes, some explosions were for the better. Let the fire out and the quarrels end instead of turning them into wildfire. The steam had already left a boiling kettle before they entered the dispatch room—Jack stepping in now would make things worse.

The problem was Spike.

Never had Crane seen him…falter. Not once. But he could see the mask slip a little. Spike wrestled with every ounce of control he had in him, gaze averted.

For the first time, Spike now looked both emotionless…and emotional. 

“We’ve put everything into this harebrained plan when we should be looking for alternatives. Any alternative,” Andrej barked.

“If you got ideas, why don’t you share them, you prick,” the red-nosed man mocked.

“Tunc,” Demir warned but the tension hung thick.

The operator’s anger still fumed but just like Tunc in his corner, he was too mentally drained to throw a punch back.

But Andrej had his eyes burned into Spike.

“Maybe I will,” he muttered. “I’m not wasting another minute in this God-forsaken place.”

His cold glance swept the room, expecting anyone to follow. Abandon the train idea. No one moved—not even Marisol.

Seeing that he was alone in this futile protest , Andrej’s scowl deepened. He shot one last look at the two Runners—faces he didn’t know but faces he couldn’t trust.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to leave the suffocating room.

“We’re back to square one. Whether you like it or not.”

Bam!

The door shut behind them.

Andrej’s outburst left its sting in the room. Square one , the worst kind of news to hear in their whole situation. 

The worst thing to be in after putting so much effort into surviving.

And for what…?

The first to break the heavy silence was the stewardess. Unintentionally, with a raspy cough. Shaking her head at how poorly things had gone, Marisol stepped forward, her professional poise intact out of habit.

“I’m sorry,” Marisol apologized on Andrej’s behalf“...He didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t waste your breath, Marisol. He’ll come to his senses,” Tunc grumbled, fed up in his chair.

Demir, however, heaved a deep sigh and focused on the conversation instead. “...Whatever train we have left isn’t gonna cut it. And the ones that already left the Loading Bay… They’re out there. Somewhere.”

“But they’re dangerous.”

Jack’s voice cracked through the tension in the air. Her rigid demeanor was gone; hands in pockets, wide smile, and taking a casual posture about herself.

“Four months is plenty of time to turn them into Viral breeding grounds,” she added.

Tunc frowned. “Sorry, who are you?”

Spike cleared his throat. “Jack Brecken,” he introduced, first gesturing to her before motioning to the hooded man next to her. “And…”

Crane flinched, caught off guard by the introduction. 

“...Kevin.”

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

[dlthedescent]

TWENTY-FIVE: A HERO'S RETURN

The ride was quiet—tranquil, even—but uncanny.

Crane stood at the bow, watching the scenery drift by. After everything he'd seen—the horrors and deaths—the peace almost startled him. How long had it been since he heard birds chirping and insects humming?

Far too long.

Caroline's boat slipped from the channel into a riverbed untouched by the undead. Against his hardened skin beat the morning sun above and the cool breeze from the water below.

But Crane knew better than to let his guard down. The peace wouldn't last. Above them, the Strait's highway stretched over with its looming shadow. Somewhere up there, he spotted movement—slow, staggering shapes—and faint, incomprehensible groans carried on the wind.

Stragglers huddled in the shade, and deeper within nearby tunnels, the Volatiles waited for night.

"Here we are," Jack's voice broke the silence, and Crane followed her gaze. "Harran."

The edge of Harran, though.

Further down the canal, low-rise buildings crept over the tree line. The urban architecture looked no different from Scanderoon: pillars of smoke rising into the golden horizon, the dreary atmosphere, and the haunting wails in the distance.

It hit Crane like a slap to the face, returning to where it all began. Not in the same light as coming back 'home' but heading to Harran's Borderway from a very long road trip.

And his fears about the state of Harran were neither unfounded nor proven. He wasn't close to the Tower, the Slums, or Old Town—miles away from anyone familiar. The only relief was that, somehow, the city hadn't been nuked off the map.

Now he stood at the threshold. The truth was waiting ahead. The same, suffocating questions buzzed loudly inside his skull.

"The Outskirts aren't too far from here either," Jack pointed from the helm, shining her warm grin. "...We could take a detour."

Did he show his anxiety again without realizing it? Once more, she offered baffling options to him when Jack made it her goal to go to Harran.

"Your call, mate."

Crane hesitated, only realizing himself. Nearly standing from his seat, his neck stretched out like a bird's as he stared at the approaching skyline. He exhaled and propped himself down.

"...Stay the course."

Again, Crane was grounded. Again, Jack didn't pry on his anxiety and relief. And again, he did not attempt to deflect his behavior. She gave him space and waited—as she said, she had all the time in the world.

At his own pace. Yeah, right. He could barely organize his thoughts when it came to Harran.

The joking offer, however… helped lighten the weight on his chest. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea, either…

But Kyle Crane couldn't keep running forever.

The boat trip had stretched for hours, winding through channels, with the Strait guiding them. The advantage of having a boat was blissful: no trudging through roads or tunnels filled with nests.

If only he had managed to get his hands on one in the past. Of course, Harran's infrastructure had never allowed for such vehicles.

When they would reach land, the Border would be an entirely new territory for Crane.

"Bzzt-zt! You reached Harran yet, Jack?"

Miles from Scanderoon, the comms crackled with a voice they wouldn't hear again for a while. They'd already said their goodbyes before leaving the Junction, but the young runner's presence felt like a breath of fresh air in the heavy atmosphere.

"Just made it to the Border," Jack replied.

"Is it as bad as Scanderoon?" Siv asked.

"Can't say for certain until we dock."

One deep sigh escaped the comms. Dodging the question wasn't what Siv wanted to hear, but she'd been down that road before. So Siv never pushed further, for the best.

She likely shared the same kind of worries as Crane did. A local from Harran, worried about her mother, friends, and family.

How small his world had become since awakening as a sentient zombie. Then it stretched further, bit by bit. First from meeting Jack. Then from a kid named Siv.

"If you've got something on your mind, now's the time to spill it," Jack urged, pulling back on the throttle and slowing the boat to a crawl. "Reception's horrible out here."

"Geez. Thanks for putting my mind at ease."

"I don't sugarcoat things, Princess. This might be the last time you hear from us."

"Yeah… You found Peri. Do…do you think you can find my mom?"

Omph, what a way to put the Retrieval specialist on the spot—Crane could see it in her body language, despite Jack's attempt to hide it.

It was a tall order; after four months, was it even possible to find anyone still alive?

But Jack didn't know quits

"I can try."

"...'But it might not be what I want'."

Siv was smart; keeping her hopes low had become the norm.

"Give me the details," Jack pressed. "If she's out there, I'll find her for you."

A deep sigh came from the other end. "She's a nurse. Eva. Worked at Harran City Hospital."

"Got it."

"And Jack? Freakazoid?"

Crane recoiled in surprise. He never thought the young Runner would call him—yes, with that nickname but he wouldn't hold that on her. Regardless, it was a sign that she was warming to him, despite their past hiccups.

"Good luc-zzzt!"

And that was it—the last call with civilization. A final wish of good luck they'd hear.

It was nothing new to Jack—dropped signals had become routine since leaving the Outskirts. Holding a conversation for more than five minutes felt like a rare miracle these days.

And just like that, silence crept back as she steered the boat down the narrow concrete river.

"So," Freakazoid broke the quiet and counted each name with his talons. "We got Umit, that girl's mother, and your cousin."

Then gave a narrowed stare at Jack.

"You don't find this overkill?"

"I thought you liked playing the hero." A low blow. She heard his muffled grumble beneath the scarf. "I'm still on the clock, mate. Bad for business if a Retrieval Specialist doesn't do their job."

"Yeah," Freakazoid didn't buy anything she said one bit. "Mind explaining to me more about your job?"

"What's there to explain? Find the mark and bring it back to the client," Jack dodged the question.

"That's oversimplifying it and you know it."

She shrugged. "Yes, well, professionalism's overrated. There's been times I've gone off the books before. I even have my eye on one particular mark."

She pulled a crumpled photo out of her sling bag she'd lifted during a forced interrogation with the GRE's boss. It was a priceless little gift: the face of Kyle Crane.

Freakazoid raised a hairless eyebrow—a fourth, really? "Someone I need to know?"

"Personal." Instead of showing him, Jack slid the photo back into her bag. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Huh. Must've gotten under your skin."

"You could say that." Her smile softened for a moment, then vanished as she spotted something in the distance.

"What?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she twirled the boat sharply, letting it drift until it lined up with a checkpoint at the end of the canal.

"I was afraid of this."

Crane followed her gaze to the culprit: a large metal gate stood their way. The standard to control water flow, but most importantly, to prevent a virus from spreading through the waterways.

There was no easy way past for a boat. Everywhere he looked, as far as the eye could see, were high concrete banks.

The only option would be to abandon the boat and climb out of the canal. And Crane had absolute confidence the brunette wouldn't be too keen to leave Caroline a second time. And then there were the quarantine walls.

"Is there another way in?" he asked.

Jack shook her head. "It's either through there or we cut through the Countryside."

Crane stiffened. His head whipped toward her, wide-eyed, horror written across his face.

"That'll take a day or two. No telling how safe that route is…" Jack explained, unaware of his sudden demeanor.

The Countryside.

The place where everything had begun for Kyle Crane.

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

[dlthedescent]

INTERMISSION I-IV: BEFORE WE PART WAYS...

Segment taken from Side Quest Story: Lending A Hand

The prosthetic arm looked crude and clunky, a skeletal framework of scrap metal, bolts, and screws. It was functional but basic, powered by an old battery pack.

Nobody expected miracles, but the flaws became more apparent the longer Noam worked on it. The biggest issue was the fingers—they had to be controlled manually with joystick switches, requiring clumsy extra steps.

Clank!

Two fingers and a thumb clamped too hard, shattering a cup in the test.

Jack's eyes widened, alarm bells ringing in her head. There was no way they would put this on the lad and everyone agreed silently.. Noam swept the shards away, terrified as the fingers twitched, almost as if the contraption wanted to grab him, only stopped by its heavy weight.

"That's a bear trap," Freakazoid stated the obvious.

"You don't have to tell me twice. Doesn't help that it needs a 35-kilo battery, and a controller that short-circuits!"

Frustrated, Noam yanked out the wires, watching the disastrous metallic beast power down.

"Alright. What do we need?" Crane asked.

"Nothing," Noam replied, slumping in his seat. "Hate to break it to you, but you're gonna need hardware. Know anyone who can help?"

"If we were in the Outskirts, the Grads might have an idea," Jack offered.

"Any chance they can help out?"

Jack shook her head. "It's hard enough traveling along the Coastline without the military breathing down our necks."

Crane wasn't an engineer, but he knew this mechanical upgrade was a long shot. The prototype on the table wasn't even the first attempt.

"...What about asking Tolga and Fatin?"

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief for hearing the worst suggestion possible. Noam, however, looked confused—those names weren't as infamous to him as they were to both Runners.

Crane already regretted the suggestion before he said it. They were the last people on Earth he'd ever want to ask for anything.

"No," Jack said firmly.

"I don't like it either," he admitted.

"Absolutely not."

"They're difficult, sure-"

"That's not my problem. You're asking two mad scientists to work on a child's arm."

"They're not going to strap a rocket launcher on him," Crane said, though Jack immediately picked on the slight doubt in his voice, narrowing her eyes further.

Because he could actually see those two do the impossible. Not for a kid, hopefully.

Still, what other options did they have?

"Let me talk to them."

All of a sudden, Jack crossed her arms, brow furrowed. Why?

This was the first time Freakazoid had volunteered to talk to someone, let alone two people Jack could barely tolerate.

"I mean, sure. Give it your best shot."

"Trust me. They'll make that hardware for us."

No backing down from Freakazoid—another first for Jack. Was he really sold on the brothers' brilliance for making that harpoon gun? Jack glanced over to Noam, hoping for an alternative. Another safer option.

"I got nothing," Noam said, still lost in the conversation. Any solution seemed better than his failed contraptions so far.

Jack didn't feel any more confident, but she decided to let it play out.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered, both amused and puzzled, as she walked out of the garage.

Crane followed, initially confident. But as soon as he left the garage—with no one paying attention—he groaned, his steps feeling heavier.

"...Maybe they won't recognize me. My voice's fucked anyway."

Quest Stories, Special Delivery, Out With a Bang and Lending a Hand can be found at these links: FFN and AO3.

[dlthedescent]

Happy 5th Anniversary to Descent Blog

Hiya followers!

It's five years since I made this side blog for my Dying Light fanfic but technically, a year younger than when I first published it on FFN and AO3. And for those 6 years in total, I cannot thank enough of the support and love for something that I started with "I see the potential in the story, I want to write it, I'm gonna write it or so help me."

And here we are. Ahahaha, no end in sight. please send he-

I didn't have anything planned for an anniversary. But the best I can give is some updates coming:

Two chapters will be uploaded next week (as long as no hiccup from life), one being the intermission chapter and one starting the Harran Arc. Yes, it's finally coming.

Another minor thing I've been doing on the side is giving another overhaul cleanup on the previous chapters. While I'm in a neverending cycle with errors and grammar mistakes, hah, this is to streamline the writing a bit more. I've written so much over the years and started planning out something original to challenge myself as a writer, I wanted to put my skills to the test in cleaning up the old chapters. As well as make way for more creative thoughts in newer chapters, especially with expectations on my thoughts of how the Beast DLC may go. Would some plots be nicely connected and what could I further explore, bringing from the old to a new Descent 2 fanfic (TBW) in the future, etc.

The changes aren't gonna be too massive in changing the story, the plot will remain the same. You just will see that word count be a bit shorter than like...over a million words in total or something.

There are some things also cooking in the background but they're too early or rough to talk about it at this time. But for now, again thank you for reading and rereading and enjoy Descent. I wouldn't have gotten this far, without you guys.

[dlthedescent]

So with the DLC coming some time this year, it has given me some creative juice here and there. That said, all I've done in the last week was give a fixer-upper to Mad Jack's design.

Like it's been a couple of months since the lineart I did and I was like...yeah too stiff. TIME TO UPDATE!

now...to color...ugh.

Also hello Lyy, I know you're gonna go feral again on a wip here

[dlthedescent]

Nothing like drawing more dying light to keep living another day

[dlthedescent]

im disappointed btw

[dlthedescent]

DL: Descent Short Stories: Lullaby

This is one of several short prompts I had written within the Descent world but didn't put in the fics cuz they're short. I didn't think much about sharing them before because most are random stuff. But this is one of my strongest so here you go. Also, I dunno if this is required but tw for child death? Even though it's a Screamer? Regardless the theme here is a bit heavy.

For some reason, a district of Scanderoon stirred.

It was nosier than usual. The child whimpered, mixing crying with laughing. He couldn't understand why today, the others were making so much noise.

Was it food? Noise meant the big ones had found a prey. He was hungry but he would have to wait until much later, when the food had lost its freshness.

Then came the horrid screams.

And that stopped the child from wailing. He hunched up like a little scared animal and listened carefully. He was small - he couldn't fight even if he could.

There was noise. Something was happened. Something actually frightened the bigger ones. He heard a hiss - a show of dominance - followed by a painful yelp and a thud.

Run! Run from the outcast! the infected communicated to each other.

Outcast?

He thought it was the really, REALLY furious ones. But they came out at night-

Behind him, light suddenly beamed in as the beaded curtains were pulled back.

No. Something came to him!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the Screamer burst. Warning the danger to leave him alone. Warning the big ones to come help.

"Arrgh!" whatever was behind him hollered in a hoarse voice, covering its ears. But instead of backing away and fleeing like the other dangers had done approaching the child, this one kept going. "Stupid ears!"

The child turned and saw it. The outcast.

It was even bigger than the scary ones at night. Menacing-looking and something was all wrong about the outcast. It didn't smell like the others, it acted weird!

Those silver-blue eyes frightened him.

The Screamer screamed even louder, as loud as his tiny lungs could make.

At first, it seemed like the outcast was giving up. Leave him alone.

Then it suddenly lunged after the infected child.

In panic, the child stopped screaming and quickly ducked under a boarded doorway.

"Dammit!" Crack! Thud! The boards were bashed down but the child ran out of the house and down a covered walkway.

Run! Run like the others told him to! He had been told to run even before. Something was always going to catch him and kill him.

Because that something had once killed someone. It wasn't another Screamer like him but he faintly recalled something like that - a figure in red being eaten up.

And now it was his turn. Something big was coming to eat him up as well!

He had to find another hiding place. Somewhere dark.

Somewhere safe.

"Hm-hm hm hmm-hm-hm

Hm-hm-hm hm-hm hm-hmm."

It was soft.

But also familiar.

"Hm-hm hm-hm hm hm-hmm.

Hm hm hm-hm hm hm?"

The Screamer scrambled to a clumsy but slow halt. A sudden, long-forgotten feeling of sadness overcame the fear and in its daze, it was drawn to the humming from inside a building.

Someone used to sing that to the child long ago. Someone they couldn't remember other than the hazy flashes.

"Hm. Hm-hm-hm-hm, hm hm-hm hm-hm hm hm."

A shape came into view the closer he got to the humming. Human-shaped. Prey but dangerous too.

He needed the bigger infected to come take the prey down and once they've have their meal, he could scavenge for the scraps.

But he didn't scream this time.

The prey was adorned in red.

Someone had worn red before in those flashes.

That someone was crying for some reason in the little fragments inside the child's empty head. She was also holding him - both of them terrified.

But she kept on singing the same tone his prey sang. The stranger from his memory sang him a lullaby to make all the worries go away.

For the first time, in the longest time, his eyes watered. And suddenly, for a split second, he remembered.

Mummy!

He wailed. Bursting out but his throat was all so sore from the screaming. He just wanted to cry.

All these feelings felt alien to him and yet, he realized he had felt them before. He couldn't make sense of everything but there was one thing made clear.

He was scared. He was being chased. He was alone. But now she was back!

Mummy! He wished she could hear him! He ran up to the prey in red with open arms.

And all his pleads were answered. The human stretched out her arms to him.

He embraced her and felt her hands wrap around his bald, boil-covered head.

His mother, who wore a blood-soaked, locally-designed dress. He was a little boy with his mother, hiding from monsters outside their home.

Finally! Finally, he wasn't alone.

Why did he forget her? What happened to them?

It didn't matter anymore. He was reunited with his missing mother.

But he still hadn't had a bite to eat!

And his mother still smelled like prey.

Mummy! Please! I'm hungr-!

SNAP!

It was a loud pop that resounded throughout the infected's body. Suddenly, he couldn't breath. He couldn't move - his arms and legs dropped.

He couldn't sink his teeth on meat. Blackness flashed in his vision as he tried to look up. But he couldn't.

Mummy. I'm scared.

He remembered saying that to the human. And that human hugged him so tightly. After that, it was a blur.

His prey still continued to hum. She held him tightly, rocking back and forth.

The fear disappeared.

"It's ok. Mummy is here," he remembered his mother's weeping. Her lullaby.

"Mother takes care of her child. Mother takes care of their home. Mother works day and night. Mother prepares for the next day."

Yeah.

He was safe with Mummy now.

And she would be with him the next day.

Gradually, his undead heart finally stopped. A gloved hand reached over his dry eyes and closed them shut. The prey laid him down, arms crossed and finally, the poor infected boy was at peace. The 'outcast' joined, standing not too far from the prey.

"Good night, hon," the brunette in the red jacket - his reaper - whispered.

[dlthedescent]

With the Beast dlc coming up and with the hints so far, I could see myself take a different writing in Descent from here on out (thankfully the large time gap between DL1 and DL2 gives that leeway). That said, I have gotten some comments and yeah it's a whole different take than my Freakazoid take.

And to be frank, I'm not too concerned about potential changes. Fanfics/fanarts are meant to be fluid and adaptive, and surprisingly, Dying Light is one of several that has a lot of potential for creativity freedom and character exploration. So I'm open to whatever Techland gives for this DLC and I don't mind at all adapting to the new content for Descent because who knows, it might open more ideas! Moreover, I'm happy with what I have so far is good enough that there doesn't need to be any severe changes to past chapters. Concept art, most likely (something I need to go back).

With that said, it's a good thing this happened. Because 1. the art for Freakazoid was still concept drafts so I don't mind refining the design based on new info (which means I CAN DRAW CLOTHES ON A HUMAN-ISH BODY AND NOT A FULL-MONSTER-ISH BODY YIPPEE!). And 2. it made me remember my damn timeline in Descent was that it has been four months since the Following in Descent.

I'm pretty sure NOW thinking of it, four months of infection and mutation is not gonna be as drastic as a full-fledged volatile or hunter....

[dlthedescent]

Thoughts on the new DL game trailer?

Not quite what I was expecting, considering he's literally a volatile/turned creature in the finale of The Following, but I'm hyped nonetheless

Hello! I have seen the new trailer and usually with game/DLC trailers, I keep my expectation low until after the day of release (with how the state of games are nowadays). That's not saying I'm veeery hyped to see an old friend of the DL community. As for what this revelation entails for Descent? Who knows. I don't see that detail as problematic for the current and future fics.

I will admit one thing: I did have a concept idea that gradually over the years, Crane gets cured or healed by the mutated virus itself. Now I have more reasons for those ideas, cough.

[dlthedescent]

is there anything new??? Art??? Or progress on a new chapter

Hello! Sorry for not getting back to you sooner, but I have been busy with life and family. As of late, yes, there is progress on a new chapter, as said before, it's still an interlude chapter. No art atm as I'm focusing on writing and work as well.

I apologise for the radio silence and hope for your patience in the future. I'll try to find time and work on the chapters. Thank you.

[dlthedescent]

Random ask from the ChronoSeth guy! Loves the art for the Freakazoid in the sets and excited for the next chapter!

Thank you very much!

[dlthedescent]

Jack Brecken will she eventually figure out that the bloke she was tasked to look for had been her partner in crime this whole time Freakazoid

Sorry for the late reply but stick around and you can find out between these two. Who knows, might be unexpected.

[dlthedescent]

Chinese(Simplified) Translation of The Descent

Super announcement to make for Dying Light lovers who enjoy DL fanfictions! A Chinese(Simplified) translation of Dying Light: The Descent has been started and maintained by the wonderful @is-gw. Give lots of love their way and if you have been looking forward to reading a translated fanfic, here is the link: https://b23.tv/283Mkh9

[dlthedescent]

I've decided to dump some art stuff to show: 1. I'm still alive, 2. the fanfic is still alive, and 3, here's Freakazoid (aka Kyle Crane).

There was a loooooooooot of experimenting before I got to the above set of drawings (as you can see my black-lined sketches in the next set.

Additionally, Freakazoid hasn't been the only character I've been working/revamping for a while. New Mad Jack design.

I am gonna have a hard time coming back to this piece cuz I can forget how to render after some time ahahahah.

i try.

anyhow I hope you enjoy these art pieces.

Am I gonna be able to finish a lot as well as continue the fanfic this year?

....i'll get back to ya all on that eventually _(:Ⅰ」∠)

[dlthedescent]

I've been drawing a lot of DL zombies lately. I just think they're cool