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Children of a Dying Sun (re-release)

---14Jun2014 Version: Tons of bug fixes and addition of scenario instruction bitmaps---

From the creator of the award-winning Tristan & Iseult, The Last Neanderthal, The Escape of Hernan Cortes, and Haiku of the Ronin.

Requires AoE II HD The Forgotten DLC!

It is the 1530's and the gods have forsaken the Empire of the Sun. It has been over a decade since painted warriors with obsidian claws and jaguar hides were subjugated by steel and the cross. A strange sickness afflicts the land as the pyramids of Tenochtitlan, once the focus of a civilization, are empty of priests, patrons, and sacrifices. Diligent missionaries tell tales of a God whose death was the final sacrifice and of a heaven that awaits the soldiers of Christ. The Mexica spirit, whose rays once shone from Lake Texcoco to the Lands of the Cloud People along the Great West Sea, is a dwindling flame before the winds of conquest and change. The sun rises each morning from the lands of the invaders but it is not the sun of Huitzilopochtli. The Mexica people are the children of a dying sun.

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Play as Huemac, Luc, and Tenoch in an RPG/fixed force/build&destroy hybrid campaign spanning four scenarios and introducing new gameplay mechanics such as disease and logistics.

First, discover the ancient Toltec lands now occupied by the Mazahua. Explore hidden jungle paths, find an Aztec Jaguar Warrior, hunt a stag, and liberate your enslaved brothers.

Then travel to Iztapalapa and the great city of Tenochtitlan. Stealthily avoid or bribe Spanish guards as you loot the city for weapons. Make ethical decisions with in-game consequences. Will you repair the troubled marriage? Will you give free medicine to the diseased people? Will you save a Spanish priest? Will you flood the city to aid your escape? Your decisions will determine if you will be viewed as a paragon of virtue or an amoral crusader for liberation.

Lead a small army and destroy your ancient enemies, the Tlaxcala and Totonac, while securing your lines of supply with your Tepanec and Mixtec allies. Fight the Spanish in a race against your Acolhua allies to get recognition as protectors of your people. Raid the Spanish hacienda but be warned: if your troops spend too much time in Spanish territory, they will contract disease. Only the blood of Spanish captives will sate the gods' anger.

Finally, wander the deserts of the Chichimecas and fend off the fierce Guachichil nomads who attack relentlessly at night before disappearing into the morning sands. Can you destroy their camps before you run out of precious water?
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Story Snippet
Diario de Jose Rodriguez, Decimonono de Septiembre, 1.561 anos de nuestro Dios, Jesus Cristo

The priest, Father Ramon, has sensed my troubles. He has known for several months. I presume at first he saw me, sitting in the back of the church, alone, as a disrespect to him; a grizzled man, appearing older than his years, who disapproved of the new young priest; the new young Spanish priest who came as a missionary into the village.

But he must have questioned the congregation of my history because he came to me many days ago after the service. He lay his hand on my shoulder as I rose from my pew. I cringed. Even now, the touch of a Spaniard brings the smell of gunpowder.

Father Ramon noticed my displeasure and apologetically asked to sit beside me. I nodded as he slid his thin frame next to mine. He awkwardly held a Bible in such a manner as if prepared to read a verse. I told him that I had read the book a hundred times to spare his effort. He smiled and noted that he had not thought someone from my background would have cared much for Latin. It is not Spanish, I thought, but said nothing.

"This is not a Bible," he said, lifting the book and opening it, revealing naked, crisp white pages, like the flesh of a fair Spanish lady. So prized and so superior over the brown Mexica women, the soldiers claim. The same soldiers who enter our homes when husbands lay dead in the fields; soldiers with steel knives, depraved intentions and avaricious loins.

"It's a diary," he continued, realizing that my mind was wandering. "I know," he went on, pausing and fighting for words as he went along, "I know you have been through much. You have seen much. I know that you have spent all these years now in this tiny village hiding from my people: the people you hate."

I swallowed, the physical analogy of my feeling; as if my throat could bury the raging thoughts of my brain.

"Perhaps it will help if you write down your thoughts..."

He gave me the book, got up, and left before I could refuse or even say anything. I sat in the church for maybe ten minutes, maybe ten hours, staring at the clean white pages. I could not see my sloppy hand-writing in a foreign script forming along the naked cream. All I saw was blankness.

Until today, when I forced myself to write something. But what? I have told how I received this book and though I know Father Ramon intended me to write of my experiences years ago, I do not know if I am willing. This may be a Spanish trick to hang me as a traitor to a King an ocean away I never pledged allegiance to nor even seen!

It was that same fear of execution that drove me into hiding years ago. Since then, I have lived in this small village, tending to my garden and living a meager existance. It was not the life I expected I'd lead when I set out into the jungles all those years ago, armed only with a youthful invincibility and dreams of lighting a dying sun.