When los campesinos overthrew the corrupt landlords of el Corazon, La Republica was born. Catching the envious eye of the Federal Empire, it didn't even take a year for hope to die.
The blades, bullets, and shells rained down from the North; butchering the dream of La Republica and ending the War of Eagles before it even began. In the Northern Frontier farmland is scorched, settlements erased, mountain passes collapsed, food poisoned, and it was all in vain. The Federal Empire's naval superiority allowed them to strike at the very heart of the country. Los Yanquis got to choose their battle, and they won it, but the fight still smolders in the hinter country.
Your militia regiment was broken, disbanded and the remnants returned to San Pedro de Los Saguaros, the hinterland hamlet you called home. Barring a bleeding younger generation, nothing here has really changed. El Jefe, Don Crescencio Hurtado de Mendoza, still lurks behind the high walls of his hacienda, keeping your familia in perpetual debt slavery and near starvation. Accepting money from the Federal Empire to keep the region pacified, reasoning empty stomachs can't bear arms.
Yes, things here haven't really changed, but you have. You've seen comrades die in droves, perforated with Gatling gun fire, confettied by artillery shells, the dark things dragging away their corpses, and the wanton sac & ruin left by the Northern army. Your brothers and sisters weren't torn apart so Don Mendoza could smother their families while sitting fat and happy.
So long as you breathe, the Republican Eagle can still take flight. Don your spurs and load your guns, time to take the fight where the devil makes his nest.
Your militia regiment was broken, disbanded and the remnants returned to San Pedro de Los Saguaros, the hinterland hamlet you called home. Barring a bleeding younger generation, nothing here has really changed. El Jefe, Don Crescencio Hurtado de Mendoza, still lurks behind the high walls of his hacienda, keeping your familia in perpetual debt slavery and near starvation. Accepting money from the Federal Empire to keep the region pacified, reasoning empty stomachs can't bear arms.
Yes, things here haven't really changed, but you have. You've seen comrades die in droves, perforated with Gatling gun fire, confettied by artillery shells, the dark things dragging away their corpses, and the wanton sac & ruin left by the Northern army. Your brothers and sisters weren't torn apart so Don Mendoza could smother their families while sitting fat and happy.
So long as you breathe, the Republican Eagle can still take flight. Don your spurs and load your guns, time to take the fight where the devil makes his nest.
"Donde el diablo hizo su nido" is a condemning turn of phrase akin to "middle of nowhere."
This is a weird western set in the northern frontier of a Mexico that never was during Polk's War combined with the black metal aesthetic of Shadow of the Demon Lord. Mix in El Topo, The Holy Mountain, From Dusk Til Dawn, Brutal Nature, House of Penance, Blood Meridian, & One Man's Hero. The opening adventure is the Battle of Chapultepec mashed up with Worms of the Earth.
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