Information

Southern
Legacy Name: Southern

The Nightmare Bovyne
Owner: silas

Age: 11 years, 3 months, 3 weeks

Born: December 13th, 2014

Adopted: 2 years, 3 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: December 5th, 2023

This pet has been nominated for the Pet Spotlight!

Statistics

• Level: 50
   
• Strength: 53
   
• Defense: 14
   
• Speed: 16
   
• Health: 15
   
• HP: 15/15
   
• Intelligence: 33
   
• Books Read: 29
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Grave Digger

🖤 GOD BLESS YOUR BLACK HEART 🖤

It was a slick, torrid, late summer day when the preacher was murdered, changing the fate of the little southern town forevermore.

He was not a kind man; he claimed to love God above all else, and it showed in how he interacted with the townsfolk, his parishioners, and with his family. The whole town lived in fear of the fire and brimstone preacherman, lest they be the next person he condemned to an afterlife of hellfire, or worse, condemned to time around the man himself. The town itself was not large, not by a long shot, and he knew everyone there, because everyone there was at church every Sunday, like clockwork, like good people.

That day, the sun rose just like any other, but there was a miasma about the town, one with no explanation or rationale. Someone would die today. Every man, woman, and child in town knew it... that is, other than the impending victim.

The red dust in the middle of town rose, and then fell, in a slight kerfuffle, and then his life was over. They found his body the next day, half taken over by kudzu already, bloody, eaten on by dogs or ravens or God only knows what, lookin' a horrid mess. Them eatin' on him didn't disguise the gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead, though.

And yet, despite the obvious foul play, that circle dark as coal on his forehead, no one had heard a peep that day. Nobody was runnin' errands, or at the general store buying groceries, or even playin' in the road. Not nothin'.

But then, how could there be a trial if there was no culprit? Murmurs around the small town, maybe the killer'd up and left already; maybe the killer was his wife, son, daughter; maybe the killer was some random Godless heathen. Who knows? Who could know?

Well... there was one man who knew, but he wasn't talkin'. One man... and something else.

The man who came into town the very next day was well-dressed and articulate, clean-shaven, blond and blue-eyed, a large hat obscuring most of his face, and a Cheshire grin stretching over what the hat did not hide. That man was Satan himself; why, it was as plain as that smile on his face!

Satan made a demand of the townspeople; he wanted the preacher's body. He fully expected there to be pushback, why, a full-blown riot, even! That's where the fun would begin, he thought. The preacher had been one of theirs, a good man, a Godly man, how dare Ol' Scratch try to usurp his body!

As it turned out, the people of the town had no such reservations, not even from preacher's wife. "Take him," she replied plainly, though her face was as if she'd seen a ghost.

Satan simply smiled; now, it was an unnaturally wide smile, too many teeth, and how many canines should a person have again? But that was his only reaction as he lifted the body from the coffin in the chapel, and exited. Curious, the townspeople followed him.

The Devil masquerading as the blond man disappeared into the kudzu where the preacher's body had been found, the body in his arms, as if he were carrying a child, just sleepin'. And the townsfolk followed him, one by one, into the undergrowth.

None of the 97 inhabitants of the town of Creed's Crossing were ever seen again. Not a one.

Today, the town is a ghost town, because when nearly 100 people disappear from a burg, people ain't exactly clamoring to take their place.

Should you have been able to, say, go back in time and have been there on the day those people disappeared, you would have noticed something very queer: you would have noticed that the Devil who showed up and took the preacher and all the townsfolk away... was the spitting image of the preacher himself.

Pet Treasure

Pet Friends