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There's an evil moving through the land, a curse. Communities large and small alike are being destroyed. Towns are being torn apart, people are being killed, and worse. The few people who have managed to escape its clutches are seen as mad and crazed. The stories they tell too disturbed to be true, the visions of which they speak too hideous to be believed. Others of saner mind have visited the remains of towns which have been overcome and return to tell of ghost towns. The buildings destroyed and derelict, each facade carrying the scars of decades of neglect. Towns which had recently been alive and vibrant are now as dead as the people who used to live there. Few of those residents are to be found, those that are, are ripped and torn beyond recognition, the remains the bones and playthings of the scavengers of the land. Wolves, cougars and other creatures now prowl the streets that they would once have feared to tread.
The stories as to the cause of this curse are as varied as the people who tell them. The destruction comes at the hand of God, cleansing the land of sinners and unbelievers. Some talk of the Indians, the dark native magic being used to bring down vengeance on the people and their towns. Others talk of a great dust storm stripping the towns of the people and leaving only the shattered remains of a life gone by. The last story is only whispered, muttered, the story itself is mixed and confused, people fear that to give it a voice will be to bring the evil to them: they speak of The Baron.
One thing is for sure, now that the Curse has
arrived nothing will ever be the same again.