Beardoom Hollow

[Rock of the Fraternity]

This is an old story now, and not a pleasant one. But I need to tell you.
It happened ... I suppose it was about five years after the Bad Times, when the earth shook and the City collapsed and the fog rose at the County borders. We've talked about the fog, remember? The one that never goes away, no matter how hard the wind blows or how bright the sun shines. You remember we don't go there, right? Good.
Anyway, I was five years old when the Bad Times struck, so I must have been ten years old. Maybe even younger. I was young, in any case, which scared my parents. You see, bad things had been happening to young children.
You have to understand, we were all still reeling from what had happened. I remember what things were like before. We used to live in homes that we could make warm or cool with the press of a button, we could bring hot and cold water into our homes, and we had lights that drowned out the stars at night.
I swear to you that this is all true, and I am sad that you've never seen it. Probably you never will, which is also sad - but it's also just as well. You can't miss what you don't know, and those times are not coming back. When the Bad Times struck, the great conduits that brought water and power into the City all ruptured. A lot of them exploded. Even today, the City is in ruins, and the machines that could have helped us rebuild them either sit rusting or trundle around with demons in the engine. We can't go back. We can't even build anew, because the County has no fuel sources, no mines to get us ore. It's why we had to re-learn how to knap flint, figure out how to build our homes here in Newtown without nails.
So like I said, we were all still reeling and scared, even five years after we fled the City and built Newtown. I've told you about the demons that came up from the depths after the conduits ruptured, the ones who took over all the machines that weren't destroyed and started hunting us. And I've told you about the miasma that hangs everywhere in the City now, the black cloud that poisons you so you start to rot from the inside out. You know that they're why we don't go back to the City, ever. Right? Good.
These are not the stories I want to be telling you. You're going to have nightmares again, and I am so sorry. But they're the stories you need to hear. You need to know. You need to be scared of the danger, like the rest of us are. Please know I am telling you these stories because I want you to live a long, safe life, right here in Newtown. Okay? Okay. Here, hold Mr. Teddy; I'm about to get to the point at last.

We were all reeling from the change. My parents, your grandparents, used to do work that... Well, let's say they were what the merchants call 'natural philosophers'. They studied and did tests to find out how the world works. They used to work with very complicated machines, and suddenly they had to learn how to fire bricks and work a field. I know it's normal to you and the kids your age, but it made them very unhappy, and I often wished we could go back to how things used to be.
Nobody was happy in Newtown back then, I don't think. Everybody was struggling to adapt, to learn to live the way we live now. There were fields to plow, cattle to raise, homes to build. Back then, there never seemed to be enough to go around; not food, not clean water, not medicine, not homes.
We were all struggling together to help Newtown survive, adults and kids together. I remember I used to go out into the forest on nice days with the other village kids to look for edible plants and medicinal herbs. And then one day, a little boy didn't come back from the day's gathering. I don't even remember his name now, but I still know he was an orphan - one of so, so many orphans back then. He'd slept in my house a couple of times - the houses we'd managed to build cycled the orphans around and around - but I can't remember his name. I do remember his eyes, big, brown and scared all the time. I remember he had nightmares and wet the bed. And then he just disappeared while we were looking for something to add to the evening meal.
The adults panicked and stopped us from going out the next day, of course. They sent out a search party, and they ... found him. What was left of him. Someone had skinned him and ... done other things, then dumped his body in Beardoom Hollow, deep in the forest.
The adults panicked some more, and for a while I wasn't allowed out of the house by day. My parents thought that I'd be safe enough at home while they were out working. Until another child disappeared, taken right from the house where she'd been staying.
Her name, I remember. It was Cindy, and she had the most amazing blonde curls I ever saw, and eyes of blue that stared right into your heart. Then she was just gone, with no parents to mourn her, and the search party found her poor, skinned body in Beardoom Hollow as well.
Remember when the fox got in the henhouse? Newtown was like that for a while. Everybody was panicking, everybody was running around, everybody was yelling what they thought we should do to protect the children.
A couple of people said we should build a big wall around Newtown, like the one we have now. But the town acres were almost ready for seeding, and you know how important it is to sow at the right time. So instead, all us kids had to come along and work in the fields.My parents were practically holding my hands the entire time, and your mother's as well. Other families did the same. But the orphans, the orphans...
Nobody saw who took the third child right from the acres, and eventually dumped him in Beardoom Hollow. Or the fourth. Or the fifth.
Everybody was scared all the time, and families were keeping the orphans they liked best with them all the time, but they kept getting picked off. I remember Oswald Petersen - yes, Old Oswald the Dunny-Man, that's right - saying it was no big loss if it was just 'the excess brats getting snuffed'. I remember he toasted whoever was 'lightening our burden' at the Ted Boar Inn.
I also remember how Old Oswald - who was still a Young Oswald back then - was almost hung from a lamppost, and how badly he was beaten after Mr. Widgery the Town Sheriff talked the mob down from killing him. If you ever wondered why Old Oswald the Dunny-Man only has one eye, three teeth and eight fingers to his name, and why he has to tend the honey wagon and nobody will let him into the Ted Boar again... Well, now you know. Even if it turned out he wasn't the killer, nobody ever forgave him for what he said.
How we knew he wasn't the killer? That's because we weren't actually sure he was going to live when the sixth orphan was taken. And then little Jimmy Jack disappeared, and we found out we hadn't been scared at all. Not really. Little Jimmy Jack wasn't an orphan; he had a family as loving and terrified as any other child in town; he still got snatched off the field, only for the search party to find him - you guessed it - skinned and defiled in Beardoom Hollow.
'Defiled' is an adult word, sweetie. I'll explain when you're a little older.
Everybody was afraid to leave their homes after that. Mr. Widgery the Town Sheriff and Mrs. Quasi the Town Mayor practically had to drag people out of their homes, because all Newtown would starve if we didn't get our crops planted in time. To be honest, we were all a little hungry most of the time anyway, because by then we hadn't been able to gather extra food from the forest for over a month. It was never a spectacular amount, what we kids found and hauled back, but it helped to fill in the gaps between breakfast and dinner.
We weren't getting a lot done on the acres, though, what with everyone constantly trying to watch everyone. The adults didn't trust each other anymore, no matter what Mr. Widgery the Town Sheriff said, and no matter how much Mrs. Quasi begged us. You see, everyone thought by then that whoever was killing the children must be one of us, someone who had survived the Bad Times, had helped build Newtown, and had now suddenly gone crazy. Mr. Widgery was very angry when he heard people muttering about it. He kept reminding us we had seen the demons rise up in the City, and how we couldn't be sure there weren't other monsters in the County now.
He turned out to be right about that, didn't he?
Like I said, the sowing was not going great, everyone was afraid and everyone was suspicious of each other. And then the strangers appeared.
I remember a little girl screamed, and then everyone started yelling and drew together in a big clump, with the children on the inside and the adults on the outside. A big lot of panicking, shouting people who barely knew how to use their tools to farm, let alone as weapons. They still kept them all pointed squarely at the two horsemen who had come galloping out of the forest. They still kept yelling at the strangers to "Go away! Go back where you came from!"
One of them looked huge, and radiant. He rode a white horse, and wore golden armor. His visor was up, so we could all see how handsome he was, and how surprised and upset he looked to be at the reception he was getting.
The other one was shorter, with a hard, scarred face, grey hair and blue eyes as hard and sharp as gimlets. He wore leather armor and grey, rode a brown horse and carried a big flag with a rearing lion. He started shouting right back at us, gesturing grandiosely at the man in armor. It was easy to tell that he was angry, but nobody could understand him at first, and really nobody was listening.
All the adults were chanting: "Go a-way! Go a-way! Go a-way!" There was an ugly mood, the kind you get when people are working themselves up to do something they know they shouldn't... Like attack an amicable stranger because bad things have been happening and they can't seem to make them stop.
Then the man in gold raised one hand, a golden ring shaped like a lion's mane sparkling on his index finger, made a gesture and said something... and suddenly everything felt good and peaceful. Everyone calmed down and shut up just like that. I ate one of those trippy mushrooms by accident once, the kind I showed you and warned you not to eat, and spent the whole day giggling and staring at how beautiful everything was. This was nothing like that. Everything just felt... good, for the first time in years.
The golden man said something else, and suddenly we could understand the grey-haired man, who was still haranguing us: " - disgraceful for a bunch of backwoods peasants to so treat Sir Evan the Glorious, a Peer of the Realm and Knight of the Golden Lion Throne! You should be kneeling in respect! Why, if we were in the Realm and I could call the civil guard, I would - "
"Enough, Gustav," the man in gold - Sir Evan - said, and his voice was music and kindness and compassion. "These people are suffering. They need help."
I heard Mrs. Quasi sigh... and then she started to cry.

We took Sir Evan and his squire, grey-haired Gustav, back to Newtown. Gustav was all deference around his master, but the rest of us - and all of Newtown - got the rough side of his tongue. He complained bitterly about the accommodations and demanded we put Sir Evan up in the Mayor's house - what he called the Administrator's Abode. When Mrs. Quasi explained that he was standing in it, he berated us all for building such a "piss-poor collection of mud-and-thatch shacks a swine would turn its nose up for", and demanded the best food and the best care for his and his master's horses. "And serve Milord your finest wines with dinner! His palate is refined and his blood is noble!"
When Mr. Anton the Innkeeper explained we didn't have wine yet, but we'd managed to distill some passable whiskeys and brew a dark ale, grey-haired Gustav looked like he was going to explode with fury - and then Sir Evan put a hand on his shoulder and just said: "Whatever you can spare of your supplies to accommodate us, goodfolk, will be accepted with gratitude."
Grey-haired Gustav didn't look very grateful when he saw the meal that was served at the Ted Boar that night. Everyone had crowded into the common room, and the food was the best we could scrape together at the time. People had donated from their private supplies - Sir Evan was that impressive, his aura of kindness that tangible. I seem to recall that everyone spent more time watching him eat and drink than they did eating and drinking.
Sir Evan spoke a blessing before he dined, showed impeccable manners while he did, and thanked us most gracefully for our hospitality after he had finished. And then he said: "Now tell me what troubles you, goodfolk. Let me help you."
It fell to Mrs. Quasi to tell the whole tale. Of our once-grand City, that had died in the Bad Times; of the way we had struggled to build Newtown and keep everyone fed; of the mad murderer in our midst.
Mr. Widgery the Town Sheriff scoffed out loud at that part of the story, and then he sputtered about how he had been a policeman before he became Sheriff, and how he would not believe that this was the work of a human being.
"Your Reeve speaks truly," Sir Evan said - much to Mr. Widgery's surprise. "Your fair community is not tormented by a man. You have become the victims of a fiend most foul. You are tormented by a skin thief; the signs are clear."
Nobody back then had ever heard of a skin thief, and there were a lot of confused looks. Sir Evan explained what it was, and then there were a lot of nauseous and frightened looks.
"But - we've never even heard of such a thing," Mrs. Quasi said. "And the children are just - gone. They aren't seen again, so are you sure...?"
"How dare you contradict Sir Evan, peasant!" grey-haired Gustav shouted, slamming his plate against the table so hard that it broke in two. "He is an expert monster-hunter, a champion of blade and lance and spell! Who do you think you are to doubt his least word, you - "
"Be tranquil, Gustav," Sir Evan said. Then he smiled at our Mayor and said: "Yes. I am certain. Now. Tell me of its lair. Tell me about... 'Beardoom Hollow'. Such an ominous name."
We spent the evening telling the radiant knight old stories about the hollow. Really, it was little more than fairytales, old long before the Bad Times, but Sir Evan seemed to think it was all important. There did turn out to be a lot of them; dark stories of a hole in the ground that led all the way down to Hell, of a flat stone where witches cut out the hearts of innocent children as sacrifice for their demon masters, of faceless beings dancing around a single standing stone when the moon was new.
The knight listened. He nodded. He smiled. When the stories and the beer ran out, he took his squire and her honor the Mayor back to her house, and they did not come out again until next morning. I remember Mrs. Quasi looked very flustered for some reason.
Sir Evan and grey-haired Gustav mounted their horses in front of us, and the sharp-eyed squire declared in a loud voice that Sir Evan would go and slay the beast. "Have a feast ready for his return and pray to your gods that they bless him! Forth goes Sir Evan the Brave, the Glorious! Rejoice in his mercy, his compassion, peasants! If you are fortunate, maybe he will find it in his heart to accept the meager position of liege lord over your flyspecj village as reward! Pray he finds sufficient favor with you to condescend to - "
The golden knight just smiled, shook his head, and heeled his horse into a canter. Gustav rode after him, still yelling at us how inferior we were and how wonderful Sir Evan was, lion banner fanning out behind him.
Last we saw Sir Evan, he rode into the forest. Mrs. Quasi retired as Mayor later that year because she was pregnant, and her little boy - yes, young Eddie Quasi, that's right - looks more like him every year, but we never saw Sir Evan again.
Around noon that day, dark clouds rolled in and a thunderstorm erupted over the forest - only the forest. We saw lightning strike several times, and there was a horrible scream from the direction of Beardoom Hollow.
Grey-haired Gustav made his way back to Newtown around dusk, except now his hair was all white, apart from the bits where it was red with his own blood. Someone or something had ripped one of his eyes out of the socket, and when he spoke he wasn't talking to anyone in the real world: "You can't do that to him you can't do that to him you can't do that you can't - "
Over and over and over again. He paused to eat and drink a little every day, and I dare say he stopped babbling to scream when the doctor stitched up his eye-socket, but that was it.
No, sweetie, you've never met Gustav. He was completely lost in his memories of the battle in Beardoom Hollow, unable to find his way back to the here and now. So we locked him in a shed we built just for him. It wasn't perfect, but I don't think he even noticed where he was, and he died of the flu a couple of years later. The doctor tried to save him and we hadn't starved him or let him get cold or anything, but he just... stopped taking care of himself. You wouldn't have liked to see how he shrivelled up, just sitting in a corner of his shed, whispering "You can't do that to him".
Mrs. Widgery, who wound up taking care of Gustav until he died, swears his last words were "You can't do this to me". And then he just - went.

We knew Sir Evan must be dead. There was this feeling of sick dread all over town, and a hush seemed to have fallen over the whole County. No birds were singing in the trees, the cattle refused to leave their barn and kept quiet. Even the insects wouldn't buzz.
The next day, at midda, it started to drizzle. A fine, soaking spray of little raindrops. I remember your grandparents hugged your Mommy and me tight, and then just wandered into town. I didn't ask why. They didn't say why. But all around town, people were leaving their homes, holding their children by their hands, orphans finding empty hands - not every adult had kids of their own back then, sweetie - or just trailing along.
We all gathered in town square, not knowing why - or maybe we did. The feeling of dread just kept growing stronger all the time, but nobody left. Not even when the next stranger limped into town.
She was beautiful, I remember thinking. Even dressed in a coat that looked like it was made of pieces of leather stitched together by someone with no idea how to sew or how to tan leather. Even with her hair a tangled mess, even with black bags under her eyes and a patch over one of them. Even reeking of stale sweat and sickness, in spite of the rain. She was so beautiful. My heart ached for her, even as she made my stomach twist with dread.
She stopped at the edge of the square, swaying as though she would collapse from exhaustion. Looking at us, staring back at her, and I could tell she hated us and herself just from the look in her green eye. Then she thrust one hand into her pocket, pulled something out of it and threw it on the ground at Mrs. Quasi's feet. Mrs. Quasi screamed once, a horrible sound of denial and loss - and suddenly the stranger was standing right in front of her, staring her in the eye. Our Mayor's eyes rolled up, and she fainted dead away, falling on top of the elegant hand with the lion signet.
The stranger looked down on her, lips pressed to a thin line, disgust coming off of her like steam.
Then she swallowed. She made a croaking sound, made a face. Opened her mouth wide and turned it to the heavens so she could catch the rain. She coughed some more; spat; then she spoke, and her voice was rough as stone: "Which of you assholes sent fancy-pants into my home?"
Remember how beautiful I told you she was? Her voice was as ugly in equal measure. It gave me goosebumps and made me want to cry and wet myself, but I held it in. I knew, I just knew that she would kill me if I made a single noise.
"Well?" the stranger demanded. "Who sent the idiot that tried to kill me?"
She started to limp along, staring us all in the eye. At one point she lifted the eyepatch, revealing an eye that was blue and hard as steel - and I'm sure I wasn't the only one to remember what had happened to Gustav. A couple more people fainted, and I felt jealous of them.
"I've left you alone, you bastards," the stranger cawed. "Why can't you do the same? Just stay away from me! You! Effing WHAT! You got something to say? Speak up!"
She was snarling at Mr. Widgery, the Town Sheriff, who had mumbled something and now looked as though he wished he hadn't. One of his hands was fumbling at his belt knife like he wanted to draw, but his fingers kept slipping off the strap that kept it secured. With the stranger in front of him, he finally managed to whisper something that sounded like "Killing our children".
"Lies," the stranger hissed, clearly furious.
And then she leaned forward and sniffed at him.
"It's you," she proclaimed. "You're the fat bastard who keeps tossing skinned kiddies on my doorstep. The Hell you think I'm gonna do with them, fatso? You think I'll eat kids? Especially kids you've [-----]" - (No, sweetie. I won't tell you what she said. I wish I hadn't heard it myself) - "them? You think I'm a godsdamned pervert like you? Quit pitching dead kids into my home, pervert. Fat pervert. Fat piggie pervert."
Her voice was coming out a bit easier as she continued to talk, but it didn't sound any better. It made me feel afraid. It made most of us feel afraid. Not Mr. Widgery, though. I could see the red flush of anger rise up out of his collar, and by the time the stranger called him 'fat piggie pervert', his face was purple with rage.
"I am NOT a pervert!" he exploded, shouting at full volume.
I saw the stranger flinch, saw her face scrunch up as though she was in pain. Mr. Widgery either didn't notice or he didn't care. He just kept shouting: "I am SAVING this TOWN! You have any idea how close we all came to starving last winter?! We have too many mouths to feed, too many orphans draining our resources! I'm trying to save everyone who matters! What right do you think you have to talk to me, Newtown's protector, you foul wood-hag!"
He raised his hand to slap her, quick as a flash, and reached for his knife again. I remember thinking how fast he was. I also remember thinking how much faster she was; her head darted forward and back like a snake. There was a cracking and crunching of bones, and Sheriff Wigery screamed and tripped over his own feet backing away from her.
"My hand!" he screamed. "My HAND!"
The stranger chewed, then spat out his mangled fingers. "Your fingers taste like shit," she said, and started walking towards him. "Ugh. There any part of you that doesn't taste like garbage? Gonna need a damn drink to wash my mouth out. Fat piggie pervert bastard sonuvabitch. Let's find out if any part of you's worth eating or not."
"No, stop! STOP!" Mr. Widgery screamed, and then he looked around at the rest of us. "HELP ME!"
It was as if that was a signal. Suddenly, everyone turned and ran, adults dragging children. In silence; we fled in silence, silence only broken by Sheriff Widgery's throat-tearing screams and the sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bones.
He screamed for a long time. Even huddled under the blankets with your Mommy and your grandparents, our fingers stuck in our ears, we could hear him screaming.
A long time.
He screamed for a long, long time.
His screams followed me into an exhausted sleep and echoed there. Sometimes I can still hear him when I close my eyes.

I'm not sure about the next bit. Why would it be me, after all? I'm nobody special. Never have been, never will be.
But I remember waking up, and Mommy and your grandparents were asleep. Outside, everything was quiet. I remember getting up, pushing my parents' arms away and opening our front door. It was still drizzling down, night was falling, and Newtown was quiet. No smoke was rising from the chimneys, all the buildings were dark - all except the Ted Boar Inn. Light spilled out of the open front door, bright enough that I could see it in the distance.
There was a haze of fog on the air, which should have been terrifying enough to make me dash back inside. Instead, I felt a cold sense of clarity, a certainty that I had to go to the Ted Boar and I would not be harmed. So I started walking, and if I dragged my feet a little, I'm fairly certain whatever was watching over me that night did not mind. From the corner of my eyes, I thought I could see ... things flitting about in the spaces between houses. Dark and twisted things. And I knew it didn't matter at all.
I came to town square, and the ground was sticky. Pieces of Sheriff Widgery were littered everywhere, and I should have been frightened. Maybe I should have even fainted. All I did was puke on my shoes, and then keep walking, right up to the Ted Boar's front door.
The strange woman was behind the bar, where Mr. Anton was supposed to be. She was pouring herself drinks of the inn's best whiskey. Glass after glass after glass, she gulped down, swilled around in her mouth, then spat out again. There were drops and streaks of red gore on her coat and in her hair, but she had cleaned her face. She looked grumpy. She looked deeply, soul-crushingly unhappy.
"Come in," she said without looking up from the bottle. "Sit down. Shut up."
I did as she said, and she poured me a drink; a shotglass full of the bottled sweet tea Mr. Anton kept behind the bar for customers who couldn't afford a beer.
"Your health," she said, toasting me with a shotglass of whiskey. Her smile was sardonic. Her eyes looked as though she might weep any moment. We drank; she filled our glasses again.
"Here's the deal," she said. "All I want is for you people to leave me alone. Don't come around Beardoom Hollow making noise. Please. Please? I don't want this. I can barely get the taste out of my mouth. I can still hear him screaming. Just leave me alone. Please? Just leave me alone so I can sleep and maybe starve to death. I. Don't. Want. This."
She looked me in the eye, and seemed satisfied with whatever she saw there. Then she really did start to cry, even though her expression didn't change a hair.
"Tell them to stay away from Beardoom Hollow," she said again. "Make them understand. I don't want this. But I can't stop. Keep them well away. Out of the forest, if you can manage. I can't - I can't stand the noise. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I didn't want to do it. But I couldn't take it anymore. There was too much noise, too much stench, too many people, too much too much too much I can't stand it I don't want this but I can't STAND - "
She sucked in a great breath and tossed back her shotglass of whisky. Then she threw it to shatter against the wall and started drinking right from the bottle. "You tell them," she told me once she had drained it without pausing for breath. "Stay away. Tell them that. I'm barely keeping it together. I can't stop. Stay away. I'll kill them. I'll kill you all and eat you. Kill you by eating you. Not kiddies, though. Never kiddies. I'm a monster, not a pervert. So leave me alone. Just leave me be. All I want is quiet. All of you, please - shut up. I'm sorry about the city. I couldn't take anymore. I can't take anymore now. Ah!"
The blue eye she had stolen from Gustav had started to bleed. She just plucked it out of the socket and flung it against the same wall where the shotglass had shattered. Splat. She clutched the empty socket, her shoulders hunched with pain, her face so desperately unhappy. Her one eye fixed on me, and I think she was horrified at what she saw not in me, but in herself.
"Go," she whispered. Then she shouted: "Go away! Go home! Hurry! RUN!"
I remember running, all the shadowy things capering in the corner of my eyes, mocking me in their silence.
I remember crawling back into bed with my family.
I remember the taste of Mr. Anton's sweet tea in my mouth as I slipped back into sleep.
I remember Sheriff Widgery's screams, and the bits of flesh between the stranger's sharp teeth as she wept and told me to keep everyone away from Beardoom Hollow.

Did I really go out to listen to the stranger's command? I'm not sure. But I told my parents what I thought I remembered. They were sure it was just a nightmare, but they told the other adults, and I told the other kids.
It became a story, everything that had happened. And seeing as no more children turned up skinned after that, orphaned or otherwise, we keep telling the story.
Things are a little better now. They have been ever since the Vistani first came riding out of the Mists, and after them came the merchants from far-off places. We're still just a farming town in the middle of nowhere, and the County is a backwater land. But it seems some of the crops we grow are unknown everywhere else, and the trippy mushrooms are very popular in a place called Hazlan, so we make a reasonable profit - or if we don't make a profit, we can at least keep Newtown alive, and Tradetown at the Misty border as well.
We do well, keeping away from the forest. From Beardoom Hollow. Please remember that, sweetie.
I tell this story to everyone who asks to hear it, and everyone who needs to hear it, even if I'm not sure she actually asked me to do it. Because it's worked for us so far.
That's why your uncle lives in Tradetown most of the time; the merchants and the Vistani, they need to hear when they come trundling into the County.
Not all of them listen. Some listen and think they can deal with the master of the Hollow. Every time some bumptious idiot with a sword or a spellbook goes into the forest to 'liberate us', there are thunderstorms over the forest, and sometimes there's a strong drizzle and a low fog, and terror hangs over the County. Sometimes we can hear her sobbing and moaning, if the wind blows the right way, about how she just wants things to be quiet.
We know what to do when that happens, don't we? Yes. Yes, that's right. And you keep your little knife sharp for when the day comes, if there are any merchants here then. All we can do is hope the merchants keep coming, even when a few disappear every now and then.

Still, even if they don't, we'll probably survive.
Just stay out of the forest.
Stay out of the Hollow.
Because she still can't stand the noise.

She. Can't. Stand it.

Go to sleep now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you have nightmares.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Yeah, I pretty much wrote this thing in one evening, after inspiration struck. I'll just mention I was partially inspired by the Beowulfsaga. I might - might - do a domain writeup for next year's QtR if I haven't forgotten this story by then.

Save what's left of my sanity. Leave a comment?

[Alastor]

A grotesque, but interesting story. I made many guesses about the turns it would take, all of which turned out to be wrong by the end.

If you do write up the domain for next year, it will be good to see behind the curtain for an explanation for how this domain's curse came to be.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

What were some of your guesses?

[Alastor]

Well for one thing, when the first adventurers appeared, I suspected that they might be the ones responsible for dragging this realm into the mists.

Then when a skin thief was mentioned, I suspected that whatever was abducting the children was able to do so because it was disguised as one of those children itself.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Ah, I see!

In the end it was much simpler. Mr. Widgery was in charge of security and more or less above suspicion. Everyone trusted him. Even the little children.

[Mischief]

Tragic. The eye bit was particularly inspired. And I'm choosing to doubt the hag-bear-woman's claim she can control herself, children or not.

Did her hearing get better/curse get worse at the end? It seemed like she has been quiet for a long time before.
Edit: Oh wait, with the hallucinogen theme, the loud voices might all be in her head, so she's just lashing out at random. Yikes.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Thanks for the kind words! ^_^

Unfortunately for the Darklady of Beardoom Hollow, her hearing really is that good. If anyone makes noise inside the forest around the Hollow, she can hear it. When it was just kids walking around, it was like a brass marching band in her ear - but she held herself back, tried to stay asleep, because she really does considering the murder of children to be offputtingly wrong.

Then some inconsiderate scumbag started throwing dead bodies into the Hollow, adding stench to noise, the noise, the buzzing of flies like drills in her ears, her ears, the noise won't stop, the stench won't stop-- and she woke up in time for a pair of bumptious idiots to come galloping into the forest and challenge her in a loud voice.

And she has lots of trouble falling back asleep again. Because yes, she's kind of insane, which means sometimes she hears noises that don't exist, as well as the ones that do.