Gabe619
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2005
- Posts
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The forests around the small fishing port of Marketsville had a dark history. The town had been there in one form or another since the 18th century and like any New England town it had it's share of myth and legend. Now having grown into a sizeable urban township dedicated to the fishing industry and tourism the residents of the town paid little to no heed of the urban myths of the woods surrounding their quaint township. And yet those myths had always been there, from Marketsvilles inception right through to the modern day. People didn't go into the forests after dark and even during daylight hours it was deemed risky, but these precautions weren't hammered into children from an early age, they were just fireside stories told to scare kids at bed time and as more and more people moved into the area who had no idea of the town's past the legends grew more and more diluted.
The odd cat or dog that vanished in the woods was simply put down to unfortunate circumstance and even the few missing hikers or motorists who stumbled into the foreboding tree's were shrugged off as accidents. However what had been forgotten by all but a very few of the older residents was the cause of the myths. The past sometimes comes back to haunt you and in Marketsville's case it had never left.
Statham Woulder was a sorcerer. A powerful one at that. He had caused mayhem in England until the country had gotten to hot to hold him and he had set sail for the new world. Landing with many other new settlers he had found his way to Marketsville, at the time a recent addition to the towns in New England, and lived quietly as he harnessed his powers. Unknown to him a Paladin had been dispatched to hunt him down and end him. His evil had left many innocents dead in England and the Church would not condone the sorcerer to continue to live to commit yet more evil. Their agent had hunted him down and their final battle had taken place in amongst the forests surrounding Marketsville. It had been a long and weary fight for both men, but in the end the Paladin won out, piercing the sorcerers heart with a holy blade. As Woulder fell to the ground, the trees all around, he used his dying breath to curse this place and the Paladins bloodline.
However he had used so much of his power to try and win the battle his curse was weak and useless. The Paladin had survived and decided to settle down in New England, he raised a family and his descendants lived on in America happily and unaware of their ancestors past. As for Woulder? His body decayed into the earth, but his evil spirit refused to die and instead leeched into the undergrowth and trees where he remained till this day. His hatred of the Paladin and his bloodline keeping him alive in some ethereal form, waiting for the day he could exact his revenge on the Paladins descendants. But none ever returned to Marketsville staying well out of Woulder's reach .... until now.
The odd cat or dog that vanished in the woods was simply put down to unfortunate circumstance and even the few missing hikers or motorists who stumbled into the foreboding tree's were shrugged off as accidents. However what had been forgotten by all but a very few of the older residents was the cause of the myths. The past sometimes comes back to haunt you and in Marketsville's case it had never left.
Statham Woulder was a sorcerer. A powerful one at that. He had caused mayhem in England until the country had gotten to hot to hold him and he had set sail for the new world. Landing with many other new settlers he had found his way to Marketsville, at the time a recent addition to the towns in New England, and lived quietly as he harnessed his powers. Unknown to him a Paladin had been dispatched to hunt him down and end him. His evil had left many innocents dead in England and the Church would not condone the sorcerer to continue to live to commit yet more evil. Their agent had hunted him down and their final battle had taken place in amongst the forests surrounding Marketsville. It had been a long and weary fight for both men, but in the end the Paladin won out, piercing the sorcerers heart with a holy blade. As Woulder fell to the ground, the trees all around, he used his dying breath to curse this place and the Paladins bloodline.
However he had used so much of his power to try and win the battle his curse was weak and useless. The Paladin had survived and decided to settle down in New England, he raised a family and his descendants lived on in America happily and unaware of their ancestors past. As for Woulder? His body decayed into the earth, but his evil spirit refused to die and instead leeched into the undergrowth and trees where he remained till this day. His hatred of the Paladin and his bloodline keeping him alive in some ethereal form, waiting for the day he could exact his revenge on the Paladins descendants. But none ever returned to Marketsville staying well out of Woulder's reach .... until now.