DEATH MARCH Quick Start Rules

LIVE STREAM EXPLAINING THE GAME

Above the safety of the trench, the only noise were the barbwire cries of the dying, within it, only the muddy doom that loomed over us all.

As the great war continued to ravage the landscape and souls of those trapped within it's grasp, those who still sought victory continued to carve into the earth. Trenches and dug outs spanned into the soil like arteries from a great beast, but they dug too arrogantly, too deep into the depths.

The rivers of blood and craters of rotting bodies fed deep into the earth, feeding and awakening an ancient God from its slumber. This sleeping entity blinked its eyes, finding itself strong on the suffering of Humanity once again, and begin to wind it's fingers up through the earth. Humanity had unleashed hell onto themselves, and awoke a deeper suffering in its place. (edited)

Every night, as the sun dips down below the horizon, bodies of the fallen rise up, moaning and rattling from within the barbwire, crawling up on broken hands and legs from the craters of artillery shells. Barbwire itself awakens, slithering along the ground, seeking other prey to tangle within it's clawed toothed grasp.

The empty, burning hulks of tanks shudder to life, old broken engines shuddering and coughing out blood tinged smoke from shattered exhausts. Artillery, mortars, and machine guns become covered in feverish sweat, their wheels creaking as they twist on their own, finding their own firing orders.

Only fire, purifying flame from torch and flamethrower alike, can put down the wandering dead, the shambling remains of the long departed brother in arms. It is 1919, and those who have born the weight and horror of World War 1 learn that it was only the beginning, the first chapter of their languishes.

Every day is a slogging task of burning the collected bodies. Every night the shivering anticipation to the new horror that will refuse to let you sleep. At this point, no mans land is more safe during the day, than it is when the moon casts its glow across the mud.

The only way to end this war to end all wars is to banish the great old one back to where it came, The gods high priests wonder the wastes somewhere deep in no man's land. They hold the keys to lock the god back where it came.

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