Del Sombra looked incredibly distracted. A handful more gods had trickled in. Her gaze would tilt to the door just before one entered, and give a mechanical nod as they did enter. There was little heart in it, like she was only partly aware of her current surroundings. But in truth, she just had her gaze elsewhere for now. Swirling like a storm over the mortal realm. Taking all in at once, and then zooming closer to the much finer details. It was a marvel at how life could progress with little interference from gods. Through the silence, she had been keeping watch over the mortal realm for most of her free time. And only pulled herself away ever so often to go join the goddesses in their hijinx, and of course in Asivar’s battle royals.

Some centuries may be nothing to gods… true. A year was a mere bat of an eye for an immortal. But still… so many misunderstand how far time advances for them. How the mortals adjust to their daily lives. The wars, the inventions, the development. Cities grew more massive, and the architecture changed with time. From the wood and tar walls with whicker roofing, to magnificent buildings and tenements made of stone and shingle. Cities had even grown more dense, where it was less common for a resident to own their own home… and instead shared living spaces with other families.

Children continued playing their strange games. And wild life seemed to have evolved a bit in some areas.

Machines of war grew more intricate, from regular catapults to trebuchets, hwachas, arrow carts, and cannons. And though rare and nearly inconvenient, were firearms. Devilish creations that can punch armor, but were terribly slow and expensive that Del Sombra could only find them in operation under the use of nobles and some adventurers.

What a wonderful world. Well… time to see what her favorite mortal was doing.

[hr]

Far below the clouds of the mortal realm, a Sergal climbed a massive tree in the middle of a bog. Above it was a small shoddy looking treehouse. A creation that basically laughed in the phase of any logical being, and invited only the demented to take permanent residence. With it’s cobbled together foundation in the branches of a tree, rope sloppily made rope ladder, and uneven spacing between boards… a true mason would only cry at the horror. But the truth was… it was made by children.

The massive female allowed every bit of slur and profanity in her native tongue drip from her mouth like a leaky faucet. Some of it was cursing the strange vampiric like giant moths waiting for her below. Some of it was directed to the souls of the children who built the damned thing so high up. And a lot of it was at herself for taking a job… with no pay… from a child.
“FAH! If Reeva did not have such a soft heart, she wouldn’t be in this place! But nooo! She had to listen to a skin bag’s bastard child complain about monstrous voices and whispers in the dark!” She hissed as one of the rungs snapped under her weight, and immediately grabbed hold of the rope.

“Just child’s imagination! NOPE! OH STORM FATHER IT COULDN’T BE THAT SIMPLE COULD IT!? Because the ENTIRE ORPHANAGE IN A SWAMP! A SWAMP! WAS CLAIMING THE SAME THINGS! THEN SOME PINK MENTIONED SOME CHILD’S MONSTER SLAYER CLUB YEARS BACK! AND HERE REEVA IS!”

“ON MONKEY ROPE, CLIMBING UP TO A ROTTING HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FORSAKEN FOG FULL OF AK’ABS! Oh-ho-ho AND JUST AS NASTY AS THEY SAY! ‘Something I could not, and must not recall’ REEVA’S ASS! YOU CAN CERTAINLY REMEMBER THOSE HORRIBLE THINGS!”

The mortals complaints and livid prattling did not cease until she finally had both feet squarely inside of the tree house.

The child made construction was surprisingly large. It allowed enough room for her to stand up straight and walk around. Chairs, charcoal, and ink were all over. Some dolls and fake swords lied around. Drawings were hung on the wall with patches of dried tar. They were all faded. And dust covered everything.

But some searching around lead her to what was the clubs handbook. They were crudely drawn, but the instructions seemed clear… better than what the map was. Each page detailed the nightmareish creatures in the bog many of which she has seen, including her vicious little friends below. But one final page remained…

“… Bogeyman?” She couldn't read the words. But she recognized the picture to many different children's stories.