Children of the Death Angel

A nation torn apart by civil war, a republic fractured over irreconcilable ideologies. As the government split, young men enlisted and regiments were quickly formed. Armies amassed, banners unfurled, and bands playing. They went off to war with rifles, machine guns, and grenades. All the while they wore the bright colors, assumed the old strategies, and were cheered as legions confident of a swift victory. They were going to be home by Christmas. That was six years ago. The optimism of immediate and glorious victory was buried along with countless soldiers in hundreds of ditches across the land. From this brutal world of modern war was birthed a renowned unit.

Some called them the Bringers of Hell, others called them the Death Headers. According to legend, to be transferred to the unit, one had to have at least twelve confirmed kills. They expected their members to be zealously religious and ruthlessly efficient in the craft of battle. Their official name was the Death's Head Company.

In the ruins of the old Republic, this Company garnered a reputation of fear and respect, admiration and dread. Their allies wondered if they were human; their enemies wondered where they would strike next. On a given day, years after the beginning of the seemingly endless conflict, the Company was given their most important mission yet. There were doubts by some about the direction of this operation, whether or not to even perform it. Yet they all in martial obligation fell in line and agreed to do their duty.

Over the next seven days the men of this elite unit will venture through intimidating terrain and personal disillusionment. They will behold the ravages and carnage of the war, from squalid refugees to the wrecked cities they flee from. All the while they are being pursued by a vindictive enemy general who believes that not one of them can be taken alive, for a single breath from the Company is doom for their enemies.