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…a subway station, dark except for stray shafts of light from our torches. Roots hang down from what remains of the ceiling, twisting down toward the ground as if groping for a hand hold in the darkness. You can see dirt and rubble scattered over a floor of broken tiles and litter. Your torch picks out a woman's handbag, rotting. An almost overpowering smell of earth, rich and loamy, fills the stagnant air. Scanning across the station to the tracks you spot two pin-points of light reflecting back at you - a wolf. It approaches, padding softly across the broken tiles of the floor, lips curled back from teeth in a frozen grin.

…a supermarket. Huge tree trunks thrust up from the ground, shattering the floor and tearing down the suspended ceiling the and structure beyond, allowing sunlight to penetrate. The aisle are choked with dirt and toppled goods, broken glass bottle half burried in the loamy dirt on the floor, their insides long since picked cleaned of any food. You recognise the frozen section, shattered glass and wrecked freezer doors revealing where the smell of meat once attracted visitors to plunder. There, ahead is the tinned goods aisle, your goal. Rounding the corner you confront a man sitting on the floor, clasping a tin in his hands. His clothes are dirty, ragged and torn. He is so filthy that soil seems to have penetrated his skin - his fingers are cracked and black as he mimics opening the can he holds with a broken stick. He turns to look at you with yellowed, feral eyes as you back away, turn and run back to the others. The noise of scattered tins tells you he's following...

…a road stretching away into the distance. Trees burst through the tarmac, forming a thick canopy of leaves overhead. The rusted remains of cars are dotted over the road, tossed aside as if by some gigantic hand. In one direction the road leads home, the other, to the neighboruring town. It is the safest way to get there. You wait, the others with you either by your side or hiding in the trees. Down the road another party of men come toward you, hands tightening on rifles. Inside you feel the gnaw of fear. If this summit meeting does not go well, it could spell the end of the struggle for you, your family and your friends. You can feel the tension rising, and the anger with it, as always. Who the hell are these guys, to threaten all you love. Just who the hell? Swallowing, you force down the bile, trying to keep a lid on the rage...

Welcome to Summerland, a role-playing game of desolation and redemption beneath the Sea of Leaves.

The time is now. The world has changed. The Event brought the Sea of Leaves into our world, an immense forest that choked cities and drowned civilisation overnight. From the trees came the Call, a lure to the weak that decimated the population. In the aftermath only pockets of humanity remain, resisting the woods' siren song. In the endless forests lurk the Lost - whose wills were drowned by the Call - and the Wild, who have forgotten they were ever human.

You are one of a select few who can resist the Call. A Drifter, hardened to the lure of the woods by the scars of the past, you cannot let go. Your torment shields you, but drives your isolation. More than anything you crave welcome in a community, but can never be truly accepted without leaving behind your past. To do that, you must confront and defeat the demons that haunt you.

What will you risk for redemption? Some paper, pens, friends and a handful of six-sided dice are required to play Summerland.

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RPG Rank: 578
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2 The Cat in the Snow - Mixula's RPGG short story contest 2013 submission
This short story was submitted to 'The Tavern's tales - Legends of the Games 2013', RPG Geek's short story contest, by Mixula.
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