grimmutterings

Once a place of culture and prestige, a welcoming place for any traveler or tradesman, the town and homes of There could rival any picture postcard setting.  Its five spired church truly an architectural wonder and the park in front of the church a carefully tended gem.  The homes and gardens of There idyllic and perfectly maintained.

Situated South of the town of Here, and close to the Shining Vale, itself an attraction for those of a mystical inclination, the town of There sat on a five forked road, with the River From burbling its way through the town. There was both beautiful and prosperous. Once.

A dispute with Here, it was rumored.  Or a five spired church in a town on a five forked road.  Or the supposed malevolence that occupied the cabin in the Dark Forest , or the mysterious Shining Vale.  No one was too sure how or why There’s decline began but ultimately, and almost inevitably, the thriving town of Here became the target of There’s misguided anger and jealousy.

Here was once the mirror opposite of There.  Here, once ailing was now prosperous, once unkept was now a landmark village.  The fragrances of Here, of flowers and baking, apples and honey, reached a traveller on the dusty road long before they saw the first whitewashed cottages or cascading flowerbeds.

There had a fragrance too.  A stink, a stench of misery and decay, from the smell of the rotting and partially ruined houses, from gutters overflowing and from the cloud of dark magic that hung over the town.  There had become a place of vengeance, its goal to destroy Here for its part in their decline.  So far, There had succeeded in destroying most of itself.  The ancient and decrepit masters of magic hauled out of comfortable corners of the once beautiful library and chased out of retirement to concoct Here’s demise, should have been left with their slippers and pipes.  The beautiful library was a pile of rubble thanks to a misfired curse, a spell of destruction had worked admirably on There’s fine civic hall after the centuries old master of dark arts had got his pages mixed up.  He put himself back into permanent retirement when the building blew and the clock tower fell on him. 

Failed spells, ill conceived chants and mishandled magic hung over the town of There, it contaminated the river and malformed its citizens.  The people of There were shrunken, twisted and ailing.  A miserable place, made all the more miserable by the once amiable Alderman.  He was said to have spent some time at The Cabin, he certainly wasn’t the same anymore.  He rained hatred and revenge, death and destruction on Here to anyone who would listen.  He poisoned There with his vile speeches and evil intent.  The magic did the rest.

To add to There’s misfortune, a victim of the polluted magical river came nightly.  A water boatman the size of a house, DaddyLongLegs.  He hunted the unfortunate and unwary, those still out past the sun down, those who had forgotten to sleep in their cellars and not their beds.  He tapped at doors and scratched at windows, he lifted up roofs to peer underneath in search of prey.  He was relentless until he had fed and then he would return to the Dour Marshes where he had his home amongst the reedowers and rushlilies.

The Alderman trumpeted revenge, the ancient and mostly senile masters of magic brought catastrophes, the citizens left if they could, but most did not get far and fell on the  road, suffocating without the toxic magic their shriveled lungs had become used to.  There was no escape from There, unless DaddyLongLegs paid a visit.  A poisoned place.

Just past the Shining Vale, to the South of Here, is There.  Take the fork in the five forked road that goes East, towards The Outhouse, it’s a longer journey but you won’t pass through There.  You don’t want to go there.