Small Town Sinner
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- Votes 8
- Parts 2
Dirted converse pave a sad trail up upon a church hill. You hear the bells ringing as people pile in to bless and bath themselves in the blood of Jesus Christ.
You see a church with no God present, only a sad withered man that has so sense of direction. You see a dictator that rules with an iron fist and lays hands upon the ones he holds dear. All you see is the ghost of a man who may have once been an angel in disguise. All that is recognized now is a leader that bleeds the same blood as the devil.
Theres a small town named Nockfell. Within this town you'll find a secret so great that God dare not interfere.
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The year is 1964, but the surface has not felt human footsteps for nearly half a century. The Great Retreat of 1919 forced the remnants of civilization underground after World War I spiraled out of control. The war did not end-it merely burrowed deeper. Poisoned by mustard gas storms, chemical fires, and plagues, the surface is a wasteland of twisted metal and abandoned battlefields. Cities stand as hollowed ruins, their streets buried under layers of ash and dust. The sun is a faded memory, its warmth replaced by the choking heat of oil-fed infernos. Humanity crawled underground, carving vast tunnel networks and cavern-cities in the bones of the earth. Here, in the damp dark, people breathe recycled air, eat fungus grown from the dead, and drink from seeping cracks in ancient stone. The tunnels are endless, a maze of bunkers, collapsed mines, and fortresses built into the rock. The deeper one goes, the easier it is to forget the surface ever existed. War never ended-it just changed battlefields. Two factions, trapped in their endless conflict, send wave after wave of soldiers to die in the tunnels. The Golden Empire A militaristic theocracy that foolishly believes that God has not yet mankind. Their soldiers march in formation, clad in gold-plated armor, chanting hymns as they die for a war they cannot win. The Royal Nation A fractured, industrial war machine, where duty replaces faith. They ration food, force conscription, and manufacture war endlessly. Their soldiers wear hate on their sleeves, marching toward death with polished bayonets. Neither side will surrender. Battles are won and lost over mere yards of dirt, trenches collapse under the weight of bodies, and chemical gas drifts through the underground like creeping death. The surface is dead. The underground is soon to follow.
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