2 May, 2021

Shadows on the mountain

was intended to be a pleasant trip for four college buddies to bond while seeing the stunning Canadian highlands. Jack, Ben, Todd, and Tom had grown up together and stayed close even as they pursued separate degrees at university.

They couldn't help but feel watched as they sat hunched together in the little treehouse they'd erected for refuge. The darkness outside appeared to close in on them, and the rustling of leaves and branches in the wind only added to their anxiety.

The biology major, Jack, was the first to discover anything was wrong. He had always been the more alert member of the group, picking up on minute information that the others had overlooked. Yet as he gazed out into the darkness, he couldn't tell what he was seeing.

"It's probably just our imagination," Ben, the economics major, reassured himself. "We're all a little nervous since we're stuck up here."

Todd and Tom, the twin engineering majors who had always drawn the attention of the girls, were also feeling the pressure. They'd never been in a scenario like this before, and their typical charm and swagger had vanished.

The discomfort got worse as the night progressed. Odd noises resonated through the trees, and a glimpse of movement drew their attention out of the corner of their eyes. Jack was the one who eventually put the puzzle together. "Guys, I fear we're being stalked," he added urgently, his voice low. "I noticed something moving out there that wasn't the wind." The others were terrified as they gazed at him. They knew Jack was no fool, and if he believed anything was wrong, it was most likely incorrect.

They recognized they were fighting for their lives as they sat in the treehouse, with nothing but the sound of their own breathing and the beating of their hearts to keep them company. They lacked firearms, communication, and a method of escape. Yet they were adamant about surviving. They crowded close, plotting their next move and keeping an eye out for any movement outside. Even when terror tried to overpower them, they knew they had to be brave.

Jack, a biology major, had heard rumors of biological changes that came from the mountains, and he had been advised by one of the school's professors to try and do some research, knowing only vague information about the rumors that cults possibly populated these mountains, one of which was those who knew of yog sothoth.

The following are the stories: There is a shadow community of individuals hidden away from the rest of the world in the heart of the Canadian highlands. They are a strange and enigmatic tribe with old customs and rituals passed down through generations. They are a strange and enigmatic tribe with old customs and rituals passed down through generations. Their existence is cloaked in mystery, and few outsiders have ever witnessed their bizarre and unearthly behaviors. Those who have had the misfortune of discovering their secret metropolis, on the other hand, have had a frightening experience.

The city is a tangle of small alleys and winding lanes, with dark stone structures that appear to hover over the tight pathways. The inhabitants are thin and pale, with empty eyes that appear to look directly through a person's soul.

Several people have described the city as a nightmare, with twisted architecture and odd, alien symbols engraved onto the walls. There are no evidence of contemporary technology or amenities, and the residents appear to be living in another era.

The most troubling aspect of this shadow group, however, are whispered whispers about their dark and horrific rites. Others claim that unusual sacrifices are performed to placate old gods, while others talk of human experimentation and forbidden knowledge. Many have attempted to discover the mysteries of this shadow civilization, but all have either vanished without a trace or met a horrific death. It's as if the city is cursed, and any who get too close are bound to a horrific fate.

Nonetheless, life continues on as usual for the individuals that reside there. They are a secluded group with its own set of laws and customs, which they zealously guard against outsiders. To them, the rest of the world is only a passing curiosity, a place of noise and confusion in which they have no desire to participate.

As a result, the shadow community of the Canadian Rockies persists, a dark and menacing presence that hangs over the landscape like a storm cloud. Those that are aware of their presence talk only in whispers, fearful that simply mentioning their name may invite unwelcome attention to their door. For there are some secrets in this world that should be kept hidden. As the night progressed, the buddies were faced with an unthinkable decision. They were stuck in the treehouse with no way out, and the people in the dark seemed to be closing in on them with each passing instant.

Desperate for an escape, they decided to equip themselves with homemade weapons. Ben and the twins gathered pebbles and sticks to use as clubs, while Jack fashioned a wooden spear out of a nearby branch. They headed off into the darkness, their hearts racing with panic, determined to make it out alive. The wind howled through the trees, and the shadows twisted and writhed around them, as if alive with a terrible and malicious spirit. As they proceeded farther into the woods, they began to hear weird whispers and murmurs all around them, as if the voices of the dead were crying out from beyond the grave. Their nerves were frayed, and they were aware that they were walking a razor's edge between life and death.

But just when they believed they'd reached the end of the line, they came across something unexpected. They could see a city in the distance, towering up out of the blackness like a mirage. They were thrilled at first. They were confident that they would find assistance and safety there. But when they got closer, they realized something was seriously wrong. The structures were twisted and gnarled, as though shaped by a dark and demonic power. Weird symbols were engraved across the walls, and the air was dense with a sickening sweet aroma that turned their stomachs.

They could feel the shadow community's eyes on them as they advanced farther into the city, following their every move. They were well aware that they were in terrible danger, yet they had no choice but to continue. The twisted gods of the Canadian highlands' shadow community were beyond human comprehension. Its frescoes and sculptures featured strange, hideous animals writhing and twisting in agony, as though caught in an everlasting suffering. The old and cryptic markings engraved into the walls appeared to move and alter with each passing instant. And the air was thick with the stink of rot, as if the very fabric of existence was being ripped apart by divine powers.

Those who dared to look at these atrocities had their minds destroyed and their souls warped beyond recognition. They witnessed things that no human should ever witness and were subjected to terrors that beyond all logic and comprehension. These warped gods, though, were the lifeblood of the shadow community. They worshiped them with unfathomable zeal and devotion, giving sacrifices and blood offerings in their honor. And the beings they revered were all too real. They were twisted and misshapen, with limbs that stretched and bent in unfathomable ways and eyes that blazed with an unearthly brightness.

They were the stuff of nightmares, embodying all the darkness and terror that lurked inside the human spirit. And for the shadow community, they were the key to unlocking the universe's mysteries, the gatekeepers to a realm of power and wisdom beyond mortal comprehension. Yet those who ventured to go too near to the warped gods met with madness and death. The darkness engulfed them, twisting and contorting their bodies into monstrous shapes that were beyond recognition. As a result, the Canadian mountains' shadow culture worshiped their warped gods in secrecy, hidden from the rest of the world. They understood that the terrors they worshiped were beyond human comprehension, and that looking upon them would lead to insanity and death. But they still worshiped, driven by a dark and dreadful power beyond human comprehension.

As the group progressed farther into the shadow community's metropolis, they became increasingly aware of its occupants. They were shouting in a twisted and guttural tongue, their body contorting and writhing in sync with the drums' repetitive beat. The buddies attempted to ignore them and keep going, motivated by a strong yearning to get away from the horrors that surrounded them. But as they got further, they discovered they were completely trapped in a maze of twisty, winding alleyways and gloomy corridors.

Then they spotted it: Yog-shrine Sothoth's in the heart of the twisted city. It was a colossal black stone monolith etched with the emblems of the twisted gods and encircled by a ring of chanting cultists. The buddies paused, wondering what to do. They understood that approaching the altar meant risking insanity and death, but they also realized that they had no option but to continue. As time passed, they pushed forward, getting closer to the altar with each step. The cultists began to wriggle and twist in a hideous dance of death and destruction as the chanting became louder and more frantic. The buddies equipped themselves with improvised weapons, including wooden spears and sharp stone shards. They were aware that they were outmanned and outgunned, yet they refused to give up. A enormous and terrifying painting bearing the likeness of Yog-Sothoth, the beyond-one, the all-in-one, and the guardian of the cosmos, stood in the middle of the shadow community's twisted metropolis in the Canadian Rockies.

The painting was a creation of unfathomable evil, a memorial to a force beyond human comprehension. It was inscribed in the most ancient and sinister designs, and it seemed to pulse and throb with a sickly green glow that made the eyes wet and the stomach turn. A gaping, churning vortex in the middle of the artwork served as a portal to the furthest reaches of reality. There were twisted and gnarled figures about the vortex's boundaries, the guards of Yog-realm, Sothoth's their limbs and tentacles writhing and twisting in a horrific dance of death and devastation.

And then there came the presence of Yog-Sothoth himself, a terrible evil beyond earthly imagination. It was a mass of writhing tentacles, a shapeless mass of green and black that seemed to defy all logic and understanding.

The terror was overpowering for anybody who ventured to look at the mural. The sheer magnitude and dread of Yog-might Sothoth's broke their heads, tearing their sanity apart. The mural, however, was a source of power and strength for the shadow community. They thought that by making sacrifices to Yog-Sothoth, they would obtain access to the mysteries of the cosmos and the keys to a power beyond human comprehension. As a result, they worshiped Yog-Sothoth in secret, away from the rest of the world. They knew the painting was a portal to a realm of horrible terror, but they worshiped anyhow, compelled by a dark and awful power beyond all comprehension. As the group progressed farther into the shadow community's metropolis, they became increasingly aware of its occupants. They were shouting in a twisted and guttural tongue, their body contorting and writhing in sync with the drums' repetitive beat.

The buddies attempted to ignore them and keep going, motivated by a strong yearning to get away from the horrors that surrounded them. But as they got further, they discovered they were completely trapped in a maze of twisty, winding alleyways and gloomy corridors. Then they spotted it: Yog-shrine Sothoth's in the heart of the twisted city. It was a colossal black stone monolith etched with the emblems of the twisted gods and encircled by a ring of chanting cultists. The buddies paused, wondering what to do. They understood that approaching the altar meant risking insanity and death, but they also realized that they had no option but to continue.

As time passed, they pushed forward, getting closer to the altar with each step. The chanting became more frantic, and the cultists began to writhe and twist in a grotesque dance of death, but before sense could overpower them, they came across the monolith of the there god, and the sight of Gastly one Yog-Sothoth, the twisted and grotesque god that the shadow community worshipped, was beyond all comprehension. Its shape was a terrible amalgamation of flesh and machine, with writhing tendrils and twisted appendages coiling and twisting in a horrific dance of death and ruin.

The creature's face was a gaping mouth of fangs and razor-sharp teeth, its eyes shining with a sickening green light that pulsed and throbbed with its own life. Its skin was thickly coated with a sticky, viscous slime that flowed and dripped from its twisted, deformed shape.

The monsters that lurked inside Yog-writhing Sothoth's mix of flesh and machine were arguably the most horrifying of them. They were monstrous and twisted, their bodies twisted and deformed into unrecognizable shapes.

Others possessed gaping maws of fangs and razor-sharp teeth that dripped with a sticky, slimy slime and tentacles that writhed and coiled in a horrible dance. Others had twisted, gnarled shapes that appeared to defy logic and reason, their coiling and twisting bodies in an eternal dance of death.

And when the shadow population worshiped Yog-Sothoth, they were twisted and distorted into monstrous creatures beyond recognition. Their bodies writhed and coiled to the rhythm of the drums, their eyes shining with a sickening green light that pulsed and throbbed with its own life.

Yog-Sothoth was a being beyond conception, a twisted and ugly deity that lurked deep below the Canadian mountains.

Those who dared ventured to approach its altar would pay the ultimate price, being engulfed by darkness and twisted into monstrous creatures beyond recognition.

And such was the fate of the four pals.

The end

Stranded and alone chased by an unknown force, a group of friends must try to survive in an abandoned treehouse in the midst of the forest with no way to contact the outside world.