e all saw a life full of regret and realization that second chances don't exist, manifest in the eyes of the storyteller.  His saddness only grew, and his sorrow could be felt.  If only he had this epiphany prior to his passing.  Possibly he would be back there, and not here.  The musician never stopped playing, and the sorrow felt by the past speaker seemed to echo through the strings the reaper played.  But our eagerness to hear the next story overpowed feelings of despair and we all watched as the next man stepped forward.


“’m Thamor Ferlark, farmer that lived in a small cottage not far from Riverwood.  I was out attending to the chickens, as normal, when I came upon a gross site.  Off a short distance pass my farm, I found many of my chickens were torn to shreds.  It looked like some were ripped part, while others had teeth marks in em’.  When I was looking into what could possibly be cause' of all of that, I felt an icy cold hand grip my leg.  It had a strong hold too.  I looked down and I won’t ever forget the site…  It was the resemblance of a young man in his 30s, or what was left him.  He stank something awful, and his rotten skin was falling off all over the place, leaving a trails of where he ha came from.  I screamed and cursed at the bastard, but he had such a good grip on my leg, I couldn’t get him to let go.  I saw a nearby shovel from when I was diggin’ a bigger pen for the chickens, so I grabbed it.

 slammed it upside his face, but that didn’t seem to deter him at all.  After that I pointed it down on his neck, and shoved in as much as I could.  It slid in, as if though it was sliding into hard mud.  I used the leverage of my other foot to force it down.  The bastard didn’t even scream.  I did though; he bit me.  He tore a nasty chunk out from me leg and it hurt like oblivion!  I knew he had no intention of stopping, and neither did I.  I kept shoving that shovel deeper into the back of his neck until it came clear through the front.  His head rolled a bit while his body collapsed.


 was mortified at what I just saw, so I limped as fast as I could back to my farm house.  I shouted to my wife, Mary, to come give me aid. Fortunately, my little girl was a sound sleeper and didn’t wake—the little princess. My sleepy--eyed wife finally came to and when she saw the bone in my leg, she looked like she was about to faint.  I figured she was tougher than that, having helped me to off the chickens and cows when needed, but I guess the site of her old man’s leg- bone was a bit much.  She did help tend my wound and I explained what had happened.  It had to be Necromancy I suspected.  She did too, and it really bothered her that their was a black magic practionioncer so close to our abode.  It bothered her so much that I wished I had told her a fib instead, not getting her all worked up and such.

t hurt something awful, but after bandaged up, I was able to limp decently on it.  I knew it would never heal back to normal, but we was too poor to get some healin’ at the Mages College—them folks can be a bit pretentious anyhow and I ain’t too big a fan.  I laid down in bed next to my old lady, and fell asleep, having the most vivid nightmares ever.  It was more like a vision and less like a dream.  I saw an infernal abyss, with half human creatures cannibalizing each other.  They screamed in agony, and yelled out the shrill of horrific cries.  It was like that of rabid wolves attacking the pack from within.  I recall feeling sick to my stomach and coughing, and when I made that sound…. them bastards looked right at me.  That is when I woke up.  I would continue to have that same nightmare for many nights to come, until a whole new nightmare was realized…

 was being haunted.  In all my reflections—in the water, or in the reflection of a shiny tool, I always saw them staring at me.  No one else could, but they haunted my visions.  These rotting dead fiends, would just stare, almost beckoning, or challenging.  It was wearing me down.  At first, I felt that the visions would pass, but throughout the next couple of weeks, I began to hallucinate even more.  I saw horrible visions..  I saw men, with hanging skin, showing off their exposed bones—jutting out every which way, along with cold, blind eyes approaching me every time I shut my own eyes and I could hear their chattering teeth—a truly menacing sound. 

he visions started affecting me in other ways too.  I would see these undead creatures crawling along the floor of my house.  I recall one time, I screamed as one came crawling across the floor in our kitchen.  I immediately grabbed a nearby hammer and smashed it so good that its' brains leaked out on the floor—wasn’t gonna let it hurt anyone in my family again.  To my dismay, when my fury was over, I could hear my little princess crying; she had confusion in her eyes and complete and utter horror and hatred.  When I turned around to look again at the floor, I saw Ranar—her cat, completely beaten by my hammer.  I looked at her, and tried to explain but she fled in terror.  I felt so bad, sick to my stomack even.  My wife, confused, but understanding something was wrong with me, still got up and left in disgust.  I cleaned up what was left of the cat afterwords--pissed at myself the whole time.  I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.

t wasn’t much later though, that I started getting hungry for weird things too.  I could smell the slow decay of life on my wife and child.  When visiting the local healer about my leg, I would get a whiff of lingering aromas that came with sickness.  It smelt sweet and delicious.  I craved it, and continued to crave it.  My regular appetite started fading, and I knew all that would satisfy me was human skin.  Can’t really explain it, I just knew it would.  I tried to fight the hunger, but I couldn’t.  As time went on, and I grew more frail, I just needed a damn good meal.

t was a warm night, laying there next to my wife as she was counting sheep off in her dreamland.  I looked at her and she looked so beautiful; I gazed at her sleeping, just as I did on our wedding night.”  The farmer stopped for a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes before continuing.

“ didn’t mean to!  I didn’t want to do it!”—sobbing now—“I leaned in to kiss her, but as my lips touched her soft, wonderfully scented skin, I bit into the side of her neck.  I tried to fight back, but a force was taking over me.  I could not fight it back anymore—as I looked around, I saw the visions of the dead staring at me, like I was some sort of source of entertainment for them.  I could feel like they were cheering me on—it was complete acceptance.  She woke up screaming, and as she pulled away, so did I—tearing out the side of her neck.  She immediately covered the wound, but it wasn’t helpin’ much.  Twas’ a gushin’ out over the bed, down her throat, and on to me.  A sweet aroma was released. 

 wanted to make amends, and reached for her to try and cover the open hole in her neck now, but as I touched her throat, again some entity had taken over.  My hands dug into the wound and must of hurt like something awful.  She was trembling from the pain, but was too weak to break free.  I looked on in horror as I realized my hands had begun choking her, and I was using my thumbs to move around the exposed skin….  to….. to…..  get a better bite!

s much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop.  I brought her to my mouth and I could smell the fear emitting from her, the blood felt soothing to me as it oozed through my fingers.  Her shaking, seemed almost erotic to me.  Her body violently shaking under me, as she had during our many nights of passion, together before.   It felt good, it tasted good.  I was finally able to be satisfied.  I started covering her mouth, but not much screaming was coming out—she was in shock.  I was like a starving bear, who happened upon a calf in the woods…  I demolished the calf.  I tore into its throat even more—veins and muscle between my teeth.  The calf would try to scream, but the bear having mauled the jugular, could barely make a sound—aside from the drowning noises as the blood traveled down its delicate little throat.  As the hungry bear tore gashes into the poor little calf, its eyes started staring off in the distance, as if it wasn’t there anymore.  The bear still holding the calf in its jaws, was viciously tearing back and forth, until the calf just started jerking—nerves twitchin'.   I chewed on the profane, and it was succulent.

s her body went limp in my hands, I let her plop down, and could smell her womb…  There was a new aroma.  It seems like she was waiten’ to surprise me, or might have not even known herself yet.  That tiny human being will never be.  I couldn’t help it, the urge and wicked desires that completely took over me, slammed my face into her bare stomach and I started tearing into it.  The fatty tissue was full of flavor—as with most meats, and as I made the way to her guts, I could enjoy the savory soup in her stomach from that night’s dinner. To me, the stomach acids made it so much richer.  I hadn’t ever enjoyed a meal that good.  Then it hit me like a nordic wind gust from the north on a chilly winter day—this was my wife!  I had just devoured the love of my life, and I couldn’t stop thinking of how good her carcass tasted.  I felt ashamed, I felt as though I betrayed her, our vows, all that was Holy….  but I couldn’t shake the hunger.  It was stronger than my will, and it had completely taken over.

 wanted to sob, but my emotions seemed to grow numb.  I couldn’t care.  I wanted to, inside me, I still did, but I couldn’t manage to bring up the disgust down in the depths of my soul to the surface.  I still hungered…  Then that aroma came back.  That sweet, tempting aroma—the fear.  I had just smelt it earlier from my wife, but it dissipated once her life did as well.  Where was it coming from now?  I turned and I saw…. princess.  My sweet, sweet and precious little girl.  “NO!”  I tried to shout to myself, but all that manifested was a smile.  Why was I smiling?  She must have saw the remains of her mother on my mouth and face.  She ran, no… sprinted, to her room for safety.  She thought it was safe anyway.

he only thought that came to mind was to comfort her,  “fee, fie, foe, fum!  I smell the blood of a young Nordic one!”  — what in Oblivion was that?  I’m trying to comfort her, and all that came out was taunting?  I couldn’t explain what was happening to me, but man did I hunger.  My wife supplied a meal that I have been craving for so very long—it was like I hadn’t eaten for months.  Had it been months?  After refreshing myself, I noticed that my leg didn’t hurt no more either—it didn’t look too pretty, the skin round the wound rotted and was hanging on for dear life—that thought made me laugh a bit: “for dear life”—but it didn’t matter none to me now.

y poor princess, I could hear her trembling behind the door, but oh that sweet smell.  I tried to go in, but she must of put a chair up to block me—can’t say that I blamed her.  But, I needed to eat again.  I couldn’t let that chair stop me.  What was coming over me?!  This was my own daughter!  My own flesh and blood!  Oh…. that sweet….. sweet and tasty flesh and blood.  Like a pompous wine tasting—I wanted to swash her life force around my tongue.  When eating a good ole’ cooked chicken, I always preferred the legs myself—easier eaten’.  I wonder if this would be the same?  What in the name of the divines?!?  How could I even think that?

 never understood what was becoming of me, but I did know that I wanted some legs.  Cooked chicken always was a favorite of mine.  Since I couldn’t get through the damned door, I took a torch to it, and set it ablaze.  I could feel the heat, but it didn’t bother me much none either—was I becoming a god?  This power felt incredible.  I could ponder that later though, I needed to eat.   Then something happened, something I never thought could…  a stench, sweeter than the aroma of that fear from before.  It was there still, but it was likening smellin’ a sweet roll, and then entering the whole bakery.  It was euphoric!  It hit me then…. she was surrounded by flames—scared for her life.  She smelt so good.

he hungry bear entered the burning surroundings, and found a little lamb…  “Mary had a little lamb…  and she was white as snow”.  The hungry bear tore open the precious little lamb and cried on the inside as he hated what he was doing.  The lamb shrieked in agony, as the bear gorged himself on the tender little lamb's meat.  He snarled and bit, and clawed and tore into it, pulling out its intestines--tearing tissue and muscle away from bone.  When I looked down at what I had done, I saw my precious princess holding onto her wooden unicorn toy…  My memories of her flashed back to when I gave it to her on her 4th birthday.  She grinned from ear to ear and gave me the warmest hug I think I had ever received.  Here she was now, lifeless before me, grasping on to it with her last breath.  The horn was a bit bloodied; she tried jamming it into me to make me stop, but I didn’t feel anything—except remorse for what I had done to my family, I felt that…

hat was becoming of me?  Why did I hunger for the flesh of men?  It didn’t make sense, but after killing my wife and daughter, and struggling emotionally, and still feeling the hunger, I watched as the flames danced hypnotically around my daughter’s room.  There in front of me lay the door that was weekend from the fire—enough for me to push down.  It was engulfed, as was the rest of the room.  I didn’t smell the sweet aroma of fear, nor did the scent of flesh send me into a hunger frenzy, as there was no more…  I could feel it, I had a bit of myself back, and I knew I had to end this.  I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find.  The house ablaze in the darkness and my wife and child laid victim to mutilation by own hands.  I knew Hell was real now…  because I was standing in the center of it.  I rushed into my daughters room and picked up the door enough to slide under it.  Everything was on fire.  Pain didn’t effect me like before, but instinct warned me about the fire.  I knew it could still kill me. 

nder the heavy door, I found a slit in the floor board, and jammed the knife handle down in it.  The blade erect now, was casting shadow reflections.  I could see them again, the faces of the dead all standing there, watching me, mocking me…  I didn’t know anymore what was in my head and what wasn’t--I couldn't stand it any longer.  I took my wrist to the edge and started rubbing it up and down as fast as I could.  It worked, I felt nothing.  But I was able to cut both wrists so thoroughly through,that they was practically nothing hanging from the bone anymore.  I rendered my hands completely useless and laid under the door burning on top of me.  My plan worked, I was practically kindling at that point.  When the flames did start to burn and I could feel the pain, it didn’t matter, I couldn’t kick the door off due to the leg being too damaged to work, nor could I push it off because my hands were limp, useless, dangling appendages now.

 could feel the heat as the flames started to engulf me.  It started to burn, and I was so glad.  I knew my time would come soon, and whatever was taking over me, could no longer hurt anyone else.  I saw the fires started to envelope me all together.  My skin was darkening, and slowly I could feel the hurt that I was supposed to have felt long ago.  It came like a wave though.  Instead of a little by little, it was all at once.  I started panickin' and I my body did all it could do, but soon I couldn’t even breath--starving for air from lack of oxygen--a new hunger I suppose....  I started feeling tired and eventually fell asleep…  When I woke, I was on this field.  I'm not hungry anymore...  all I want is my wife and daughter back.

ll of us in the circle looked upon the man in disgust, how could he do something so atrocious?  We watched him as he wept in extreme anguish.  The musician seemed to understand though, and stared at him.  Darkness fluttered like an antithesis of sunshine from his being as he somehow appeared closer without stepping forward—he just was closer.  It was like we were blinking and missing motions of his movements, but our eyes were opened—it did blind us all somewhat as well.  “You gave in farmer…  A curse enticed you and your will was defeated.  In time, a hero will rid the land of the plague that your body succumbed to”.  The farmer immediately fell and started weeping…  “I’m so weak” he kept repeating….  his voice though started humming to the tune of the musician… His humming was soft, and peaceful…  His words were no longer heard by anyone on the field.

Continue. . .