Innkeeper

Welcomes weary travellers with warm hearths and soft folk-tales. Their cottage glows at twilight, the smell of stew and stable in the air. But hospitality masks hunger: smiles that stretch too long, eyes that flicker with anticipation. For in Merrimere, the Innkeeper’s door swings both ways—offering rest, then rendering terror.   Their honeyed words attract travellers but the scent of stew is masking the boiling flesh that is found in their storehouses. The curse will take them if they do not feast.