“If you’re really intent on getting to the markets of Shinzor-on-Warren, you may want to take that road to your right instead. Yes, yes, I know. “That’s the road to Eastgate-on-Warren.” True, and it may add a day to your trip. But, that road on your left? It takes you past the old Julien farm.
They were… hungry, in life. One of their older boys was caught… eating… a child. The entire family faced judgement and paid the price for his sins. I think we acted too hastily. You know how mobs are.
Anyway… there may be ghosts. Trust me. Take the right road.”
— Torutani Kyocleary, Koopan Turtle Farmer
The sun descends over a broken-down mill, damaged by time and neglect. The flensed flesh and muscle of humanoids of all sorts are discarded on the soil, as the ravenous ghosts truly only desire one thing from the things they abduct: their bones.
The machinery inside still functions, somehow, as gears are broken and parts have fallen apart with time. Maybe it is driven by hunger or by hatred… or both.
The Juliens were a family of Bayou Dwarves, their farmstead and land passed down for many generations. The last generation included several boys and girls, but it was their son Dante that ended their family’s lineage. He was caught in an alley in Shinzor-on-Warren over the corpse of a child, blood on his cheeks and man-flesh in his mouth. When the mob descended upon their home they found profane sketches, books, and paraphernalia related to anatomy and surgery. There were rumors that there was some artifact connected to a Stitchmaster from a distant metropolis, but if there was one it was never found.
Eventually, the spirits of the Juliens won’t be able to find anything to eat what wanders by their home. One hopes they could be put to rest before they get too hungry.