In the town of Stinging Tree Hollow, there once was an innkeeper on the cusp of great financial success when he fell victim to the dangers and ravages of drink. Not through excess consumption as may be thought, but by mixing Corpse Wax into his ale at the behest of his absent-minded manservant Groggery. This misguided deed opened a doorway to commune with dark forces.

Voices came to him in the night. At first he resisted, but eventually broke down. The change manifested as large, sinister statues were sculpted in the likeness of his new headless master. With his tithe rebuked, more grand statues were built to show admiration.

Soon, the voices consumed his mind, speaking to him of terrible deeds, which he eventually acted out. One by one the guests suffered at his hands.

He plotted as they slept in their beds, roaming the halls wreaking havoc and chaos. The truly unfortunate were taken to the roof to take a seat at the bizarre altar erected to the nameless terror.

In the end, the innkeeper lost his mind and his own head, becoming a shattered wreck of a man.

Who can say what happened, but when the moon is full, you can hear the wails of his guests shrieking out in terror at his nefarious misdeeds. If you dare approach, you may see the keeper, now a tormented headless specter, reading by the fire.

Let this be a lesson. Life is too short to drink a poor ale.

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* A special thank you to Alley Oop for design help and donations to the cause

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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