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The war was over.

Two long years of death, pestilence, destruction, and fear were drawing to a close. A lone standing church looked over a freshly turned graveyard; its bell blown by constant winds that echoed the lingering screams of the perished. The Whiskey Gulch below purged itself of the vermillion taint of spilt blood. The railway laid in eerie silence. Abandoned and rusting cars lined its track, and not a living soul could be seen traversing the distance to the foothills. This once populous frontier had become a ghost town.

And then came the second war.

Two new armies gathered; those that had survived, and those that hadn't. Infested with demonic spirits drawn to the pain and suffering of the bloodshed, the former enemies, heroes, and beasts of the past war and those of ages past clawed themselves from their graves to reap for their Masters a fresh deluge of souls. Deafening thunderstorms blew over the open plains and howling blizzards encased the once safe pass in deadly ice and snow. Hearing the unearthly howls, the remaining heroes gathered to protect their loved ones and waited for the first strike.

Are you ready to claim your place in the war?

There is no place for honor here - no time for pity. Be ruthless, be savage, and you might be lucky enough to keep your name off the tombstones to come.

Story by NeoTypic

[edit] See Also