Swamp of the Damned
by TJ of Creation
Highlights include randomization of gameplay based on difficulty level and the expected Creation solo level features.
Another solo level that's sole purpose is fun and challenge of play. Many hands have touched this project and it has benefitted from each revision before this final release.
Play, explore, enjoy. Oh, and watch out for the dead, some of them have a tendency to not stay put when you put them in their grave.
April 10, The Unknown Lands,
My men are tired. As the marsh thickens, they grow wearier. With each step, they are bogged with murk as we press onward. Twice a day, we stop and strip from our armour to remove the leeches from our backs and legs. So far, three have died from the sickness carried in these swamps. Our reserves of food and water are dwindling. I fear that it is going to get much worse before we reach drier land and that we may never again see outside these dead woods.
We aquired our guide through the marsh in the small village of New Armin weeks ago. My father had always warned me never to trust a coward and I do not trust our guide. He is a superstitious fool, spreading his folklore through our ranks like a plague. He says these swamps are haunted. He tells the story of a betrayed King of Armin, his vengeful sons, and of the Civil War which left the bodies of hundreds of soldiers dead in a violent bloodbath.
During the day, the stagnant stench of death is doubled by the heat of the sun. At night, there are unholy howls as the wind whips through hollowed, dead trees. My men claim to have seen something lurking behind us. I have caught a glimpse of something hiding in the dark trees, but we have yet to catch anything. Something is in this swamp; that much is certain.
Our guide tells the old ghost story of the lost castle of Armin -- supposedly, the ruins are somewhere in this vast marsh -- where the spirits of the fallen and betrayed wander the swamps to feast on the flesh of the living. With each day, my men believe him more. With each step further away from home, they are more afraid.
Weakened, hungry, and sickened, we press on. This evening, our guide ran in terror as the howls began. I am starting to believe there is something unholy wandering these swamps.
I pray to Wyrd I am wrong.
For full credits and level information see the ReadMe enclosed in the archive.
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