Cabal

They say that at the root of every tree, the core of every web, the heart of every empire, there is a festering wound, waiting to bring the whole body to ruin and collapse.   That wound is the First Tsar, Emperor of Klavafeld, and the city of Cehanine: our ruler and capital.   “Our blood! Our people!” They cry. Lies. For in the darkest nights, legions of undead, countless, rippling waves like boiling water, mass. All know. None care. They say it is in the name of “Prosperity and Opportunity! Reawakened need no rest, no sustenance!” Yet they openly condition them to be controlled - and directed - as easily as an arrow.   Does the populous act on this? No. Instead, they cower in their homes, their fortresses, waiting for others to take initiative. But those that rebel are silenced, and the masses do nothing to help.   And now, it is too nearly late.   The capital is on the verge of being overrun, of full outbreak. Our ruler is preparing to reveal himself for what he truly is: a tyrant and traitor. The new regime will begin to spread like an infection, and then?   Apocalypse.   There is one hope of salvation.   You.   You are no hero. In fact, you are far from it. You are a scoundrel, a criminal, a fugitive. You are a spy, a saboteur, an enemy of the state, a crime lord, an assassin, or maybe something else. In your life, you have faced death and horror beyond imagining. Maybe you are as bad as they say, or maybe you've been framed for your crimes, but now, you only face one last thing: execution.   Unless.   This is your last chance. A chance at pardon, at freedom. A new identity, a clean slate. But only if you do one thing:   Kill the First Tsar.