Merrimere Cannibals
As dusk bleeds into Ivorian Heathlands, the shadows in Merrimere stretch long and strange. Deep within the twisted woods, the residents become something dark. Afflicted with the wendigo curse of endless hunger, they must consume gaulan flesh or they bevome something monstrous. The Cannibals lurk—gaunt figures dripping with sweat and feral smell, their eyes bright with ravenous hunger. They do not raid often; they wait.
When caravans creak across Heath roads, laden with trade and complacency, the Prowler slips ahead—silent, rat-sharp. Scouts see only a broken messenger or a fallen pot, until screams split the night.
The town portrays itself as normal in daylight, but on e the sun has set, the desperation renews and thos welcomed into the town are hunted to appease the curse.