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[IT 000]

Hello everyone, I am the creator of the mod Corrosion. An apocalyptic mod full of zombies, mutants, radiation, and dead trees. While running this mod I go through test worlds like water, most of the time these worlds are uneventful but sometimes interesting stuff does happen.

Here’s some short stories from those worlds. Don’t expect regular format of yearly updates for forts with a nice beginning, middle, and end. Instead I plan on just popping in, and writing an interesting short story whenever something interesting happens. However, I hope these prove to be entertaining short stories nonetheless.

[IT 000]

I am Sath Parchglens. My father was a despot warlord for a band of men fifty strong. Losing a stronghold was no stranger to the Wooden Realms -the band that my Father served- over the last three decades or so The Wooden Realms have been dealt defeat after defeat from the hordes of undead. Less than a year ago, my father was bitten by one of these hellspawns, then mercifully slain by my cousin who immediately took control of the warband.

My cousin bested me in combat and I took those few men and women loyal to me and left to start anew. That was nearly a year ago. We are now twenty three men strong and I have a few new scars to my name.

We had not focused on what weaker souls call ‘trade’. We had been much too busy trying to carve out something resembling an encampment. We band of Desert Devils were not used to rivers going still in the winter and Dap BudBuck -our metalsmith and chief engineer- was currently concocting some sort of underground holding tank for the water. I do not care much for the mechanics of these projects however he assures me that it will be ‘spectacular’. Whatever that means.



My projects have been much more, shall we say, down to Earth. We needed a wall, and I had just grabbed a batch of bricks from the Permaglass Furnace when I heard a loud crash behind me followed by a couple of screams. I barely registered it, some of our people had already shown to be easy to anger at the smallest drop of ale, and said ale stockpile was mere yards from where I was standing.

“Shambler!” someone yelled tripping over a barrel of food

My ears perked up, and my lips curled back “Get inside!” I commanded and gave one look at the overturned barrel “And bring the food with you!”

I turned around to see the shambler behind me with a few of our dogs barking at its heels. It’s shirt was in tatters and you could see the fresh bite mark on its neck. The second our eyes connected it charged.



“So easily broken. This does not scare me.” I said to myself staring at the broken and mangled body of the infected. Trying to finish the job might get me more hurt than I already was, breaking its ankle seemed to reduce it to little more than a pile of rotting flesh, on my way inside I told one of the lackeys that I wasn’t too fond of to pen the dogs around the infected just in case it tried to get up.



As I peered through our modest entryway full of terrified fighters I couldn’t help but worry if anyone was bitten.

Hopefully that’s the most exciting thing that will happen to me today.