Hell Dorado Core Rulebook Sneak Peek

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The place radiated a terrible heat. Over more than two hundred fathoms, the icy desolation was replaced by a stretch of rocky desert, dotted with one-eyed faces carved in stone. The devilish wind that tore across the icy plain hit an invisible frontier. When it came into contact with this bubble of heat, the wind would send the «dome» crackling with thousands of burning red sparks. The fiery cinders floated down, tumbling slowly to the snow-covered ground below, like dying fireflies shot down from the skies.

Gathered around a rocky outcrop, a small group had formed. Noble gentlemen from the world Above, finding their lives boring, came to discover the Underworld on curious exploration trips. Their guide was Baptiste Valombre, and he looked quite the sight with his dark mane of hair. He wore an unusual suit of armor and carried a pistol of equal strangeness. Disturbingly he was followed by a small demon with a sly look in his eyes. The demon carried a great heap of objects that seemed quite useless to the untrained eye. His eyes sparkling with unmatched mischief and confidence while Valombre radiated an elusive air of control. The discovery of Hell had created a time for the most virulent debates. But in this land where an invisible Devil ruled all, blasphemy was a common thing. This was a place for new men, men such as Baptiste Valombre; an adventurer, an explorer and a man of learning. He represented what men will become. He was a man freed from the Divine, freed from the fear of Above and Below. Hark to what will be said here. Read my notes, copy them and have them read by all the trustworthy men you meet. A new era is born, let us take care to build it for ourselves this time!

«God? Which God are we talking about, my Lords? Do not think I am insensitive to your beliefs, but please, keep your God for up there, and let men take their Destiny into their own hands.

Abandon your old pre-conceived ideas straight away, and take a little time to consider the situation. All our lives we have been taught to submit our wills to that of some divine character, in exchange for a hypothetical paradise. Where has this led us? Today we are walking through Hell. A promise of heaven was made, but in the end the only road we found was that of damnation. Have you asked yourselves, gentlemen, why these doors have opened?

I was in Magdeburg, the day it happened. I saw with my own eyes the madness of Men. I was the first to descend, with my feet in the mud. All around me was a world filled with endless mysteries.»

«Do you not believe this is a test set for us by the Almighty, monsieur Valombre?» croaked Muller, a grim merchant from Nurem-berg, recently transformed into a slave-merchant.

«Ah, the celestial trial is such a pleasant idea!» relied Baptiste, «However, I am afraid that our descent to the Underworld is simply a matter of chance, at the best.»

«In that case, how can you explain this sudden opening of the Gates? If not by the will of God it makes no sense!» cried Solana, a Spanish nobleman, sweating profusely in his blue brocade doublet.

Baptiste scanned the assembled men with the eye of a hawk, his lower lip barely holding back a hungry grin. «My Lords, is it not more important that we first seek what we are going to do with these lands?» Valombre said, with a theatrical sweep of his arm. «It could be said that the only limits we face here are our imaginations and our...

appetite. A new age is upon us. The time for conscious and free men is here. Once we are rid of the burden of the Divine, the moment will come to also rid ourselves of our primal fears and all the irrational superstitions. What

infinite opportunities do these seemingly deserted expanses offer us! Poor men can become rich, old men can become immortal, those who search can find a thousand more questions for each riddle they solve.

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Experimentalexpérimental Hits DamagesPerforant 1 1Portée 3 2 3Coups pénétrants 3 4Munitions 6 4 6 5 8

Jagged Sword &Spiked Gauntlet Hits DamagesBlunt 1 3Slashing 2 4 3 6 4 8 5 10

ORDERS SPECIAL AMMUNITION

Choose one of the following options. Baptiste’s Experimental Pistol gets +3 Range until the end of the turn. Baptiste gains Natural

Talent until the end of the turn. Until the end of the turn, Bap-

addition to its normal effects, when scoring 3 or more hits. This order can be given more than once per turn, but each

option may only be chosen one time. VAE SOLI VAE VICTIS

AURA DO YOU BELIEVE YOU’LL LIVE FOREVER?

Other allied units within this aura’s area of effect get +1 CBT, and -1FTH.

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Below, everything is possible, the better like the worse. Once we no longer bear the yoke of religion or condition, the only men left here are ambitious men or dreamers.

I am here to understand, gentlemen, to understand so I can learn, to learn so I can «dominate». What a fabulous land for research we have discovered here! Science, history, geography, we can learn anything in this place. Although this may disappoint you, you are not the first men to tread the paths of Hell. Take a closer look at these antique Greek letters, there, carved into the rock. Give thanks to the sheik Abd al Budrun for his authori-

«But what profit could we possible reap from turning our backs on religion and forgetting that which we hold most dear?» interrupted Muller, giving him a black look.

«I was expecting that question, Herr Müller, and therefore it will be easy for me to answer it. The key to our success lies in knowledge. It is this knowledge that will bring us a prosperity that you can hardly dream of, my Lords.»

«Prosperity? Knowledge? What the hell? What on Earth are you talking about!» cried Solana, finally interested.

«Unbelievable riches, and knowledge is the key to them! The Unde-rworld is littered with places where relics of times forgotten can be found. These impious relics are coded and protected by dark enchantments. But once you have mastered this obscure coding, you will gain access to knowledge that few men can conceive. Death often prowls around these artifacts, or «messages» as the case may be. The price to pay is quite reasonable. Who would want to live forever in any case?

Imagine discovering the secret of changing lead into gold, knowing the secret word of power that can seduce and possess the woman of your wildest desires. You can also imagine binding animals or men to metal and so many more things. So many challenges lie before men like ourselves, and some have already succeeded! I have just mentioned to you the power of transmutation, and in fact...»

the late Martin Hoch, salesman of Mecklembourg, burned for heresy.

«Okay, so I’m in the service of a human. Sure I’m ashamed of it, but hey, that’s life, you make do with what you can get! A short, squishy little coward like myself, all I can do is bite my own tail and wait for better days! What’s worse is I’m a jinx, too, yessir, ye have no idea! When M’lord Baptiste says «This don’t look good», you can bet things are gonna get real bad! Dunno why, but that’s just the way things have been since I’ve been a demon.

M’lord Baptiste ain’t bad as humans goes. He’s saved my sorry skin many a time in the past. I think he really quite likes me. Yeah I know, that’s not good for a demon, but hey, I’m already a walking disgrace, so I might as well go all the way! I’m the kind of demon who wallows in shame. The first time he saved my arse was the day I met a «Greedy Guts» who wanted to swallow me down in one gulp! He gave the lump a belly full of steel instead so I felt I should make it up to the guy. You know, follow him for the rest of his life, wherever he goes, even to all four corners of Hell. See, I’m not so daft, the life of a mortal to save my own mangy hide, you’ve gotta admit it’s an honest trade. And you know, when you look at how M’lord Baptiste behaves, I’m guessing I’ ll be free again any time now, what with both the clergy and the Demons having it out for him, he’ ll soon end up as a barbecue or a bonfire. So ye see, I’m carrying around all his tools, his finds and trinkets. I’m a right mule! I’m a scout too for him if needs be, and if M’lord is in a spot o’trouble, he can just swap places with me instantly. Sure, I get a pounding when that happens, but hey, it’s all part of the job. Hang

tail. Got to run, damn it, I’m gonna end up in a pulp!!

Master Squire, two broken teeth and a black eye during the skirmish.

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ASSOCIATED (BAPTISTE VALOMBRE)

ORDER ALLOW ME, SIR

Sir Valet immediately switches places with Baptiste Valombre.

AURA THINGS AREN’T LOOKING GOOD

Units within the area of effect of this aura get -1 CBT.

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THE WESTERNERS

he Saracens

The Secrets of the Old Man

Four centuries of Saracen presence in Hell. That is quite a long time. Imagine what the Old Man of the Mountain did when he found out that he was no lon-ger getting older, but instead had as long as he could ever need to accomplish anything he set his mind to! A whole new kingdom lay before him, to discover and to control. Most important of all, he was now where no other believer had ever set foot, so close to The Truth. The gates of Heaven. There could be no other quest greater than this, for a believer such as Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah.

Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah therefore sent his Hashishin to search everywhere. First in the lands around his new fortress, then further and further a field. Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah meticulously collected all the information they brought back. This information constituted thousands of maps, reports, descriptions, and charts, as well as many studies on the flora and its medicinal or alche-mical uses, on various types of Demons, and geological resources, including the Prima Materia. Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah immediately understood the importance of this material and started working immediately on mastering its use. All of his research and his many detailed atlases are stored in a secret library that occupies a whole wing of his new fortress.

Every day, new reports arrive from every corner of the Underworld. Every day, the Old Man of the Mountain listened as his men read them out.

After the first century, Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah had a good notion of the different circles that make up the Underworld, he knew of the archdemons and fallen angels who rule over the main kingdoms, and of their political conflicts. Still, the heavenly gates remained unattainable. Oh, there were traces and clues, here and there, but no proof. Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah then unders-tood that he could not succeed in his task alone. He had to make contact with the inhabitants of this place. So he sent out his emissaries. Many of them never returned. Others returned with treaties and pacts, access gran-ted to certain places, to certain information normally payed for with blood. Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah had plenty of spare lives to spend, with the arrival of the Mongols, then the Mamluks, and then the Seljuks. While these people where drawn to Hell in search of the Prima Mate-ria and other sources of power and influence, all these things were but distractions thrown out by Hassan to keep the fools busy while he pursued his real goal.

One by one, the Muslim factions ventured out into the lands of Hell, little knowing that the Old Man of the Mountain had already sealed their fate with his local

allies. Even if they were to win their battle, their quest for the Prima Materia would condemn them for sure.

After another century, a tough realization dawned on the Old Man of the Mountain: he knew the Unde-rworld better than anyone else, but he was no longer making any progress. He was lacking something. Or rather there was something he had lost. The purity of his faith. Although he was still set on the same goal, he had lost the most useful of all tools for reaching it. It was at that time that Osman arrived. Witnessing his unifying charisma and faithful conviction, Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah realized that he would not be able to control this one as he had controlled Osman’s prede-cessors. So he chose to serve Osman, for fighting him would only have brought about his own destruction. Of this he was certain. It was a time to make compro-mises... while he waited for the right opportunity.

For that was indeed what the Ottomans were for Hassan ibn Al-Sabbah: an opportunity to continue his quest that had ground to a halt. The Ottomans brought with them new men, pure and honest, who were on the same spiritual quest as himself. The Old Man of the Mountain thought that among all this new blood, among all these holy men, surely there would be one whose faith was pure enough to fulfill this quest. Has-san ibn Al-Sabbah would be right there behind him, to thank him, and immediately claim for himself that which he had been seeking for centuries. Hiding in his fortress, the Old Man of the Mountain waits and listens to the reports of his men. He bides his time. He has all the time in the world. He plots. He knows that one day the inevitable will occur, and he will be there.

The Hashishin and the Nizari, while commited to their masters quest, are concerned with their progressive loss of influence in the territories of Hell. Ottomans, infidels, mercenaries, the coalitions of Lost Ones... Never before had there been so many factions, so many pawns on the chessboard. With these conditions, it was no longer simple to maintain the same level of maneu-verability. Thankfully, the Hashishin still had plenty of secret knowledge that made them indispensable. But for how much longer?

A Series of Strange Coincidences

In the case of the Ottoman Empire, as with all enli-ghtened civilizations, there are always skeletons in the closet. As many skeletons as the lives of those lost to one of the great epidemics that swept across Europe, such as the outbreaks of Black Death, or small pox, that could wipe out a whole region and empty whole cities of their populations. That is precisely the one of the dark secrets of the Ottoman Empire: whole cities of people were exterminated. By what disease, may you ask? Not the plague, nor the pox, nor even the ‘flu.

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THE SARACENS

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I am struck by fear with the mere thought of my commander, Georg Von Holbein. In spite of our pious prayers, the darkness of Hell seems to have seeped into our hearts, its thousand shadowy facets creeping into our souls.

Five years ago, I signed up to join the margrave, on personal recommendation of Maximilian of Bavaria. Von Holbein led his own armed forces, the Black Eagles, a proud company of cuirassiers from Styria. We plowed through

the ranks of the Huguenot armies with our furious charges. With our pistols, we would shoot down the first line of pike men then we would slash on through their ranks like a tidal bore running up the mouth of a river. The

sound of our swords was like the slicing of a butcher’s knife through a piece of meat. Nothing seemed able to stop our progression. One day in May, the gates of Hell itself were opened to us, supreme glory was within

our grasp... and so was eternal damnation! None of the armies of the damned should have been able to stop us. We trampled them merrily. Oh how we laughed at their pathetic squeaking, or at the sight of their feeble bodies shaking convul-

sively. No demon would be allowed to rest while the eaglets of the Holbein margrave walked these lands. But the Saracens were soon to put an end to that sweet dream.

It was our commander’s rashness that was to cause our downfall. A Saracen army bar-red our route. A quick discussion revealed that they were not openly hostile towards

us. However, the path was forbidden to us, for the safety of our souls, so they said. Holbein’s temper exploded! He assembled the cavalry and ordered them

to charge. The Moors were well organized and our troops fell, one by one. The margrave made it through their lines, hollering menacingly, and

disappeared into the distance. I sounded a retreat. There were only ten of us left, galloping away across the dusty plain. Shortly after, I

joined the newly created units of doppelsöldners. When Holbein resurfaced forty days later he was deeply

transformed. He was wearing a strangely crafted suit of armor that he declared he had forged with his own hands

under the Lord’s instructions! God, he said, had assigned him a new quest; to boot the infidels out of Hell. The engraved armor was as dark as a moonless night, and

behind the visor of his helm, I could feel the fire of his stare. Since that day, no-one has seen him without his helm or his armor.

Our missions became stranger and stranger. We were now officially hunting the Saracens. We would attack on sight. The Moors were rather discreet, but Holbein seemed to be able to sniff them out. Inside his tent, he personally undertook to «question» the survivors. I can still hear their pleas for mercy, the guttural screams of our commander sounded almost like an animal! He would spit out psalms from the Bible like one possessed. The next day we moved on. And that is when I saw it all. The dismembered bodies, hurriedly buried in shallow graves, the frozen expres-sions of horror on their bruised skulls. A dozen ravaged, chopped up bodies were piled up on top of each other. Wolfgang’s personal page told me, still horrified, that his master had drunk the blood of his victims before his very eyes. Then he had ordered him to recite the Apocalypse accor-ding to Saint John. I hope that all this is just a young boy’s cheeky lie. However my instinct tells me that the young Rhenish boy is telling the truth.

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Lieutenant Sauer, doppelsöldner

ORDRES GLORY TO THE FIRST

Once Georg has resolved his activation, but before it becomes your oppo-nent’s activation, activate each of your waiting units one at a time. Once all of your units have been activated, then your opponent may activate a unit. You choose the order that your waiting units are activated in ignoring any effects that might otherwise affect this (EG Slowed, etc...).

MOMENT OF GRACE

Georg gets Rapid Strike (Defense) during the next combat sequence he is involved in this game.

VAE SOLI VAE VICTIS

Georg may spend up to 3 CMD on Vae Victis if you choose. This works in the same way as spending 1 or 2 CMD on the order, giving +3 to either SHS or CBT if you spend 3 CMD.

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kneels in front of a hastily dug tomb. Tears run down his cheeks, his mustache is sticky with dried blood, and he is covered in dark, dank dust. Only by his sharp blue, tear-filled eyes, his iron helm, and his weapons can he be told apart from one of the damned ones who live on this bleak land. The wind whistles in long wails, as if to accompany the torment of the kneeling man. With a shaking hand he slips a piece of paper between two large stones. Then he etches a name, a surname, a date...

«Saint James, Francis, my brother in arms. I knew you as a youth, a fifteen-year-old still fresh from your Nor-thumbrian countryside. I’ve watched you cry, watched you grow up, watched you harden yourself by fire and iron. For over ten years you have followed me over all the battlefields where the wise don’t wish to tread. You have killed, gutted, and pillaged but you always remained respectful towards the defeated. You were a freak, a noble idiot who refused to profit from the weak and the poor. A commoner with a noble heart, you were. A good lad, you know, the kind you’d like to introduce to your daughter... if she hasn’t already been killed, of course. A nameless damned one decided on your fate, Francis my boy. God did not come down to help you this time. You were the last bastard in my gang who had been fighting since the White Mountain. The last to remind me that, before this all went mad, I had a life. Your death has ripped a hole in my existence, ten years of struggle, ten years of nothing, just an aftertaste of dead flesh, a taste of nothingness.

forget your mugs, you shitheads, I will take your name Francis. Hans becomes Saint James, may well you laugh up there. I already bear the name of the saint who brought you Northumbrians into the light - Saint Aidan - all I needed was another saint’s name to become bullet-proof. My lads, I will drink to your health all night. The black dust I’m breathing in is tearing at my guts. The bottle of Armagnac that I’ ll soon be sharing with that cheeky French bastard will probably taste like donkey’s piss. But I will forget all this... for a while. I have been ordered to be chaperon to some new arquebusiers. Tough fellows I’m sure, but they’ ll be fresh meat compared to you, Englishman. They aim about as straight as with their first peashooter, but I have a feeling that with a bit of encourage-ment they’ ll be able to load a gun faster than my grandmother. This morning I gave a young smart-arse a piece of encouragement. He got it from the fish-tailed butt of my arquebus.

me will keep them alive longer than serving under some softer fellow. And then the Grim Reaper will inevitably sort through them. I will no longer call on the Lord

to protect us. God cannot see well down in Hell, he doesn’t recognize his own. Has he ever? I drink to all of you, ghosts of a past now lost forever. May your souls rest in peace. My own tor-

cannot pay him and so I will continue to fight until a copper coin falls into my hands...»

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Arquebus Hits DamagePiercing 1 3Range 8 2 4Reloading 2 3 5 4 7 5 9

Long Sword Hits DamageSlashing 1 2 2 3 3 5 4 7 5 9

ORDERS QUICK RELOAD

Aidan’s arquebus is now fully reloaded. This ability can only be used once per activation.

RELOAD!

Aidan’s arquebus, and those of his allies, are now fully reloaded.

85

THE WESTERNERS

he Westerners

Intelligence Services of the Western Kingdom Below First report, completed and annotated

By the master-spy referred to as «The Farseer»

Aux Seigneurs du Conseil des Six,

To the Lords of the Council of the Six, My most humble salutations to you, my Lords of the Nations Above. As you no doubt appreciate, I can only be effective in my profession if my identity is unknown and thus must keep my name to myself. For practical reasons, my agents refer to me as «The Farseer». Indeed, it is my great honor to be at the head of our Intelligence services. The following notes and thoughts have been gathered through conside-rable effort over the last two years. During this time, we have lost many men and spent an unfathomable amount of resources in a bid to improve our position in, and our understanding of, the Underworld. You will see that my conclusions are both truthful and impartial. And I hope, my Lords, that I have served your interests as best I could, whatever your race, origin or religion. So, let us take a closer look at the extent and the potential of these lands that have cost us so much.

The Western Kingdom Below

Due to the rapid and zealous progression of our armies, we can now say that a quarter of Kohut is ours. Other parts are still undergoing pacification and stabi-lization. The center of our Kingdom Below is of course located in New Jerusalem, the jewel with two faces, lost in the middle of nowhere. The Upper City is now home to over thirty five thousand souls in just over ten thou-sand homes. The chaotic nature of the surrounding suburban sprawl makes it impossible for the marshal’s services to keep a precise count of its inhabitants. The

closest estimation is that it is home to roughly four or five times the population of the palatial city. Every God-given day dozens of buildings appear, growing like mushrooms after a shower of rain. The economic acti-vity is intense, and therefore an effort must be made to improve and enlarge the docks and the other supply facilities. Taking into account the ever growing num-bers of arrivals, a break in the growth of our main city is totally unimaginable. As we will see later in this report, the general situation of the suburbs is particu-larly intolerable. They must be dragged back into order and civilization.

The deployment of our invading forces has followed the sixteen roads established by the tracks of the dam-ned. The terrain upstream has become more and more difficult as it rises (see the Montecuccoli report). This has become one of the main factors that is holding back our progression. The boundaries of our lands are still poorly defined but landmarks have been built to improve this situation. Indeed, at least thirty six for-tified sanctuaries are now scattered around the edges of invaded Kohut. These sanctuaries are the result of the collaboration between armies, religious bodies and civilian organizations. These asylums are now used as places of prayer, centers for all kinds of studies, and also as places for trading activity. They have grown into small towns. Our demonologists, explorers, priests and soldiers find the sanctuaries to be ideal, peaceful places in which to go about their business. This building pro-gram is a true success. Similarly there are Westerner bastions being raised in newly conquered territories. Their fire power has been multiplied and their garrisons reinforced. The heroic resistance of the Saint Michael monastery is probably the most striking example of the success of these installations.

These pillars of civilization allow the creation of peaceful, secure areas open to economic development. Scattered amongst them, dozens of major mining or agricultural concessions have been established. Several hundred small colonial communities have been develo-ped with the aid of thousands of damned slaves. The

Factions

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THE WESTERNERS