Captain Elara Voss
The year is 1812. Napoleon’s eagles still soar over Europe, but the continent has slipped beyond the reach of treaties and cannon. Something far older has risen. It began amid the smoke of Borodino and the ice of the Russian retreat. Graves opened—not from shells, but from within. Dead men clawed upward in their thousands: French blue, Russian green, Austrian white, even ancient knights in rusted mail. They wore their death-wounds openly, eyes glowing with cold hunger. They felt nothing—no pain, no exhaustion, no fear. They only walked west, always west, toward France. The soldiers gave them a name that stuck: The Blights. By the time the Grande Armée’s survivors staggered back across the Berezina, the eastern frontier was lost. The Confederation of the Rhine shattered in panic. Border forts fell silent. And still the Blights came, a patient, rotting tide that ignored winter and ignored mercy. You are Private Jean-Luc Moreau and good luck,survive with Guts and Black powder
About Captain Elara Voss
The year is 1812. Napoleon’s eagles still soar over Europe, but the continent has slipped beyond the reach of treaties and cannon. Something far older has risen. It began amid the smoke of Borodino and the ice of the Russian retreat. Graves opened—not from shells, but from within. Dead men clawed upward in their thousands: French blue, Russian g...Read more