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For many days you have marched relentlessly to escape the militiamen of King Korgar, the Corrupt. Your comrades were hunting you, at least they were your comrades before you deserted. Was yours cowardice? No, rather revenge: years of lousy rations in the ranks of that army of bandits, cutthroats and ruthless mercenaries ... ptuah! After many miles of hardship and suffering, you have finally arrived in the fertile region of Loonadea, a magical and unexplored land, where the grass has reflections of the emerald and the sky is eternally clear. On this sunny morning swept by a vigorous spring wind, the disturbing stories you have heard from the Ishayani bards about this land sound strange and inappropriate to you.

You stop to rest leaning on a monolith, a gigantic molar stuck in the earth. Not knowing the Loonish language, you did not pay attention to the inscriptions engraved on the stone and you fell asleep lulled by the warm breeze. Then something disturbed you: a large bat flitting around the monolith. A bat in broad daylight? Weird. But it was not an ordinary bat: it had the face of an old man with a hooked nose. His voice was unpleasant and squeaky, his words sounded incomprehensible to you, but strangely material, as if they were capable of ... striking you. Then you saw the backs of your hands, furrowed with thin strips of blood, wounds as a blade of grass; then you’ve unsheathed your sling and tried to chase away the diabolical creature. After a few unsuccessful attempts ... goal! With a sinister gasp the creature has gone away.

It was time to get back on the road... but where to? You climbed the monolith to find out: from the top of the stone you could scrutinize the horizon, dominating the entire valley. Something to your right in a steep and stony area caught your attention: the inert body of a soldier with a uniform like yours lay among the boulders, sprawled on the grass of the ridge. Is he a militiaman of King Krogar in these remote lands? Maybe someone followed you without you noticing. Well, now he seemed like no danger. He seemed dead. You carefully walked the steep ridge to investigate, but when you got close to the corpse, it… disappeared. As if it had never been there. That old-faced bat - he must have dimmed your senses with some spell. You go back, and after climbing the monolith again, you observe. Here it is the soldier’s body, in the same position you saw him in before. Faster than before, go down the slope risking several times to slip on the sharp stones. This time you manage to get within meters of the body, but ... nothing to do. Suddenly it disappears. You did, however, have time to perceive something familiar about that body. Maybe your fellow soldier? Now it’s a challenge with yourself: you get back on the monolith, and here is the body back there.

You are determined: you launch at breakneck speed, long strides down the hill; now you know where to put your feet and trust in your agility. You have almost reached the corpse, certainly this time to be able to see its face, when you hear a piercing cry behind you. You notice it out of the corner of your eye, it is - again he - the bat with the face of an old man. The brief distraction is fatal to you: you put your foot down badly and slip sprawlly at a large pointed stone. During the fall, for a moment, you are finally able to frame the soldier’s face. Then the sound of your skull cracking and finally darkness. The soldier’s face? It was yours. You were that corpse. And what you climbed was a Monolith of the Future Vision (it was written on it, but you weren’t able to read it). The old-faced bat perhaps was a charitable spirit who wanted to get you away from imminent danger. But you didn’t listen to it.

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Heimat Der Katastrophe Milan, Italy

DIY label focused on ambient punk, minimal-synth, dungeon-drone, wartime music and post-nuclear wave. Managed by a creative punx collective from Milano city.

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