A dark fantasy/horror set in a world of furry characters, inspired by Pathologic and Resident evil. Written in 2020, it is currently in a complete but unpolished state.
Dear Daniel, I hope this message finds you well, as I am certain that you are surprised to receive it. As you no doubt have heard I have been researching abroad in a small town in the region of Simarka, Mosgrav; a little place called Tadibya. In the past few months I have happily been hosted by a relatively wealthy farmer by the name of Konstantin Chernoff and his family. Unfortunately I must confess that I have recently fallen ill, and that this poor town, which is quite remote, has no physik of sufficient canny to diagnose my symptoms.
You may ask why it is you I write to, who are a far journey away, and not to some doctor from Mosgrav City. The reasons are three. Firstly, because I have always admired your daring and unorthodox approaches to medicine and would trust implicitly a colleague far more than any Mosgravan barber.
Secondly, as I am certain you know, the capital here is consumed by the fervor of revolution as ever, and none know when the spark may become flame. While Tadibya is far enough away to avoid the fire of revolt, such times make it uncertain that a capital doctor could be contacted reliably, let alone arrive.
And thirdly, while I certainly hope that you will be motivated by the plea of a fellow scholar in need, take note that here in Tadibya I have uncovered in the local populace information which may be key to your own area of study. While of course it is difficult in the field of folklore to separate that which is legend from that which has a basis in fact, I have increasing reason to believe that the traditions of the people here may hold the secret to life extension, if not outright immortality.
For that reason, if none other, I ask that you make haste to see me in the town of Tadibya. If the administration quibbles about the cost of your transportation you may inform them that Mr. Chernoff has graciously agreed to reimburse any costs incurred by your travel. I suggest that you charter a plane for the first leg, and then take the Mosgrav express through the Simarka station. From Simarka, a coach will be able to bring you to Tadibya. Perhaps the same coachman I am bribing handsomely to make certain this letter reaches your hands in the fastest manner possible. The journey all told should take only four days if you act with all haste.
Finally of course, if you are at all interested in coming to my aid, as I do hope you are, I shall include the list of my symptoms thus far: fatigue, sweating, difficulty breathing, darkening of the veins, sluggish heart rate. I hope to see you, rather than your reply, as soon as possible. All the best, Elias Banbridge
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The shabby coach slowly shook Daniels bones as it rattled and trundled its way down the dirt road in the Mosgravan countryside. They were only a couple of hours outside of Simarka and already all semblance of civilization had vanished. The windows were drawn against the mist that mistook afternoon for night, leaving the traveler in near darkness as well as silence. Across from him, his companion sat silhouetted in what little light there was, all sharp lines and glinting spectacles. The rain pounded a tattoo on the coach’s roof, no doubt leaking into their luggage, and other odd sounds drifted across the cold, soggy moor. Perhaps it had been a mistake to heed the letter at all.