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.