Poniższa gra jest sesją anglojęzyczną dla czytelników wieku 18+.


[MEDIA]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S530Vwa33G0&t[/MEDIA]

The land of Hell comprises one main continent, and a few smaller islands around it. The continent itself is a gargantuan landmass of deserts. Volcanic mountains dot the highest points of the north, while depressing dunes of ash and sand are blown by the winds and carried onto the frozen southern regions.

The largest part of these lands is Middelheim. Near its southern borders, just past the mountains, there’s a lengthy, dark chasm, ripping through the earth, with its jagged edges pointing towards a hole deep enough to break any vessel unlucky enough to fall into.

It is in this depth, at the very base right near the far end of the ravine, where a small human town of Canyoncreak was built. It is one of the few, happy places, in the abysmal land of the discarded and forgotten.

The town is meager in size. Afraid of losing their lucky blessing, the citizens strive to keep their home a secret, inviting new souls rarely and in trifling amounts. Nearly thirty puny houses are cramped by the mountainside, each built from sandstone. It’s small, it’s personal, it’s barbaric. It’s also, however, home.

The burnt of people found there are among the most trustworthy souls of Hell. Even without official structure and laws they manage to keep themselves together through kindness, understanding and dedication. You will often find the middle-aged blacksmith Milwood trying to recover iron from the cave’s deposits for tools he will give away freely, only to get free drinks at the barkeep’s inn, and be fed with whatever demon meat the scouts brought back.

Speaking of the barkeep himself, the humble man spends most of his days without leaving the establishment whatsoever. Each morning is spent cleaning the floors, tables, and dishes. Even though, most of them were already cleaned yesterday. It is through simple work and routine, rather than ambition, that souls of good men find peace in the endless life of Hell. Still, the routine can become tiresome.

That is the precise reason of the bar’s prevalent customers. Be it the tired scouts that keep looking out for whatever wanders too close, or the mayor worried about the townspeople need’s. Both he and Margaret, the scout’s captain, often sit down in solitude, only to await troubled people’s company. Whether it would be the homeless Robert who sometimes gets sick and needs someone to persuade the doctor into helping, or the Bruno the merchant, who needs protection for his travels away from the crevices’ jagged walls, every soul will be attended to.

Whenever the barkeep does leave his sanctum, it is an odd event. Sometimes driven by politeness. Whence the blacksmith courted his daughter her father didn’t spoil the mood of his establishment, but rather reprimanded the man in his own abode.

Thankfully, pleasing reasons for his leaves are more numerous. In example, once each month he will bring a brand-new bottle of wine to the priest. He will leave at the very break of morn, taking the stone-laden streets of the dusty town, taking a route through the yet to be busied courtyard, lamenting over the broken fountain and turning straight towards the small chapel.

The priest Antonio is surprisingly popular for a believer in Hell. It is common for the inhabitants of Canyoncreek to praise Cao Dai, whom they see as true god, for the blessing of their quiet town. Antonio himself will also pray towards Black Maria, whom he recalls from his life. Somehow, he never expects the wine to arrive, shunning from taking his regular gifts for granted. In exchange, each arrival of the barkeep is a pleasant surprise, and the two tend to sit down for a chat, and a game of chess.

It will be bewildering then, to mention that the heroes of this story are non-believers. Among the trio is Thomas Sobbeh. Once a capable fighter, now a merchant consumed by his studies of social structures in Hell. Perhaps being able to get his hands on books was the biggest privilege he gained as a shoprunner. He would also bestow gifts of empathy upon his clients, providing considerably low prices. Ones that would be highly appreciated by people such as the scouts, among whom was Drip, and another, less considerable man.

The first of them was on the last day of his break, and busy with a task most worthy of hell. Driven by a spiteful request, he has taken upon himself the goal of assassinating the mayor. Peace of Canyoncreak wouldn’t be disturbed for long, and the money in the eyes of Dripp was worthy. He awaited for the Mayor to drunkenly leave the bar. He did so near each morning. Then, the scout tailed him, and raised his weapon when the two found themselves on an empty street.

The mayor turned suddenly, looking in Dripp’s direction with wide eyes. The scout was unsure of why and how, until he noticed that the town’s head wasn’t looking at him, but beyond him, at the city walls.

This being the last day of Dripp’s R&R was also the day of the other scouts’ team return. Composed of four people, the small group of souls was tasked with helping the trademaster Bruno leave the canyon. They’ve escorted him swiftly, hunted lesser beasts on their way back, and froze at the town’s sight. Something was wrong.

The sound was muffled by the thick, high walls of sandstone surrounding the city, but long before approaching the team had seen small shapes descend into the town. Three out of the men looked at the fourth, and simply pointed him at the town. He was the lone wolf, the eagle scout, the tool they used to probe danger. Now, they wanted him to check the town. Having no other choice, he headed for the secret entrance. A small tunnel dug around the wall, the true exit of Canyoncreek, separate from the unmoving gate.

As he creeped through the claustrophobic tunnel, he began hearing the sounds of battle, or perhaps slaughter. Finally he came to the end of it and looked into the city. Harpies and Tengu, two types of winged viles that live in the mountains, have descended in overwhelming numbers upon the town. This seemingly unprovoked attack was a scenery of horror. Men and women tried to flee or fight, losing by the dozen. The man could saw entrails of his former colleagues dotting the town’s streets.

Suddenly, a stinking face looked right into the crevice. The town’s drunk wanted to flee through it and ran into the scout. The two didn’t like each other, which is to say the scout had no respect for the drunk, and pushed him away for his own safety. Right after, the scout began retreating himself, back the way he came. Soon however, sounds of battle began coming from the other side of the crevice as well. His party has been spotted. This way was no good, the town was in chaos, and the tunnel wasn’t safe. The one thing he could do however, was sneak through the confusion towards the peackeeper’s barracks. They may be able to hold out the building, or at least hide in the basement.

At the time of the attack, Thomas, the merchant’s assistant was sitting in his room reading a morning book. The vicious descent of demons startled him, and the ensuing carnage got his mind racing. What should he do? Where should he go? The merchant was out of town, the blacksmith and peackeepers would probably run into battle. Could he help them? Well, not really. If he could get to his shop and hide in the hidden basement however, he would be safe.

Taking his chances Thomas ran onto the streets and between the people, taking the more covered areas and trying not to stick out too much. When he was near the town square, he saw the priest and a couple believers fight off harpies. The priest paid heed to Thomase’s presence. “It is you people” he said “you never believed in god. We should’ve set you right! You wasted his patience!” the priest proclaimed, and a fantaic from the crowd rushed at Thomas with a pitchfork. The young shopkeep dodged, but not completely. The weapon got stuck in the side of his hide armor. The resistant piece of cloth proved invaluable, and allowed Thomas to rip the weapon out, jump forward and choke the bastard by clenching his throat.

It was an ineffective manner of combat, but the occasion wasn’t prime for a fencing match, and the gun remained at the store. Laying on top of his adversary allowed Thomas to resemble an innocent carcass. When the harpies broke through and murdered the priest, they omitted the laying merchant and his victim.

Thomas sprung into a hectic dash the moment he felt safe. There wasn’t time to waste and playing dead wasn’t going to spare his vessel. He took a few turns and arrived at his shop. It was swarmed. Not by demons, but men. The Mayor waved to him “we’re taking supplies for the fight. We had to break the doors for it, we’ll sort it out after we’re through”. It made sense. The people were used to taking things from him in case of an emergency. Problem was, they swarmed the store. It was a matter of minutes before it became a major battlefield, and in this crowd it was impossible for him to even retrieve his weapon. He needed a new plan.

“Come with me” said the homeless man to Thomas, tugging on his shirt. “The doctor has a hideout” he promised, trailing along. He was drunk and limping. He knew it. “Go on ahead. Don’t let me slow you down” the drunk said. Thomas accepted and went on a rush towards the doctors place. However, as he was getting to the cave’s entrance, a Tengu flew from the sky and swooped at him with an extended leg. Thomas just barely dodged and drew his rapier. The opponent landed, turned around and rushed at Thomas.

In the meanwhile That Guy made his way to the barracks. The building was closed from the outside. A couple of tengu got inside and whoever saw it decided to barricade the entrance, imprisoning them. This was bad. He was out of ideas, his party was outside, he never really gave a shit about anyone in town enough to know any hideouts. He learnt that the store is being raided for supplies, and that the scouts are there to mount the defense. There was really no other option. He could either pray like a fool, or make his stand and hopefully save his vessel. If not, he’ll just find another. Maybe a demonic one instead.

Drip decided not to murder the Mayor. He hated his guts, but knew how important a leader is during crisis. The two knew what was going on however. This would be Drip’s last escapade in the town. No point doing a job he wasn’t going to stay around long enough to get paid for. He needed to survive, and then flee Canyoncreak. Luckily, he knew one place that could offer him safety: the tunnels at Doc’s place.

Drip took his time. He moved slowly in crowds, and quickly when alone. He saw men fight near the merchant’s store, and dying one after that one, even

That Guy was dead.

Not having the luxury of time, Drip continued onward, only to find another body right on the way to Doc’s place.

Thomas was dead.

And it wouldn’t be long until Drip found why. A wounded Tengu with a rapier pinning his wing to his side walked out of the shadows, ready to fight Drip just like he fought the merchant moments ago. Drip took a blow from him onto his shield, but it broke. He swiped with his sword and cut the bastard’s neck open, but the Tengu managed to hit him at full force in the head before collapsing.

Drip stood above the dead Tengu, hearing a distinct, metallic sound in his ears. His face became wet from blood. After a few swaying steps towards the doc’s cave, Drip collapsed.

Drip was dead.

Drip, Thomas, and That Guy all awoke inside a small cell. They were in a decently-sized room whose small portion was cut off from the rest with iron bars. Sadly, they found themselves on the other smaller side of said bars, with no access to the room’s exit. As Drip got up, he noticed multiple scars and suture marks on the other two men, and then, looking at himself, he realized that his arms aren’t his own. It took awhile for it to sink in, but his arms have been replaced by the blacksmith’s. The other guys had similar changes made to their bodies. Someone has butchered their vessels and put them together with parts of other people, and now, said person kept them locked up.