The house at 1206 Spooner Ave is a place gone wrong. In the last 50 years, 18 people have died there, & you can feel it. In the dark hours after 2am, no one ever hears music from a darkened room.
Description:
PLACES, LIKE PEOPLE, GO WRONG They turn off the path and head into the shadows, becoming something other than normal. Black places filled with blank rooms, closed doors, and empty hallways lined with dust. In these places your voice catches in your throat, the air seems to hum, and bad things happen. People get hurt. Objects vanish. Misery flows like the water from the loose faucet in the bathroom. Hate hangs in the air like old paint. It smells of time and circumstance, and something just a little beyond the world. It smells like surrender.
The house at 1206 Spooner Ave is a place gone wrong. In the last 50 years, 18 people have died there, & you can feel it. In the dark hours after 2 am, no one ever hears music from a darkened room.
Description:
PLACES, LIKE PEOPLE, GO WRONG They turn off the path and head into the shadows, becoming something other than normal. Black places filled with blank rooms, closed doors, and empty hallways lined with dust. In these places your voice catches in your throat, the air seems to hum, and bad things happen. People get hurt. Objects vanish. Misery flows like the water from the loose faucet in the bathroom. Hate hangs in the air like old paint. It smells of time and circumstance, and something just a little beyond the world. It smells like surrender.
The house at 1206 Spooner Ave is a place gone wrong. In the last 50 years, 18 people have died there, & you can feel it. In the dark hours after 2 am, no one ever hears music from a darkened room.
Description:
PLACES, LIKE PEOPLE, GO WRONG They turn off the path and head into the shadows, becoming something other than normal. Black places filled with blank rooms, closed doors, and empty hallways lined with dust. In these places your voice catches in your throat, the air seems to hum, and bad things happen. People get hurt. Objects vanish. Misery flows like the water from the loose faucet in the bathroom. Hate hangs in the air like old paint. It smells of time and circumstance, and something just a little beyond the world. It smells like surrender.
A recovery team dispatched to a small Caribbean island to recover a missing operative finds themselves involved in much more than a simple extraction mission.
Description:
A DEA agent has gone missing while investigating a "biogenic" company operating out of a small, private island in the southern Caribbean. The government has contracted with the PMC branch of Eastern Horizon Security to find out what happened to their agent, and to retrieve him, if possible. But the team will quickly realize there is a reason that the government has hired an independent PMC instead of sending in their own agents, and the only people who need to be extracted are themselves. Before they become Officially Denied.