HORROR TALES OF THE SILENT NIGHT

The Haunted Minstrel

Casimir started nervously at the menacing beast before him. Its long, black-haired head loomed above him and it's dark eyes seemed to reflect an endless abyss. The half-elf looked down, shuddering, and peered instead at the large hooves, but that was a mistake. Immediately, childhood memories flashed in his head, images of a man being crushed under very similar hooves.

The beast gave an aggressive huff and clomped its bone-breaking feet.

Of course, one of the voices in Casimir's head mocked.

Soon it will be your bones that are broken.

I see your body crushed into powder, Omen

boomed in his typically deep, moody, and prophetic manner.

There's no way you can survive, Cas, mocked

a second voice, then cackled. This was Jeer, less formal and more bitter.

An old gnome walked back out from the dark stables behind

Casimir. She adjusted her enormous spectacles and looked up at him expectantly.

"Uh... on second thought, I think I'll pass," Casimir said

aloud.

"Aw... but Onyx here is one of my best horses," the gnome

replied.

"I'm sure it is," Casimir said doubtfully as he glanced

over at Onyx. "But I think I'll just walk to Waterford instead."

"Ain't

a good idea with that storm coming in," the gnome said, pointing up to the

gray, dangerous sky. "'Sides, you won't

get there before dark, and most folks in that superstitious village will be

indoors."

Casimir saw Onyx glaring at him intensely while the voices

continued to harass him. Seeing what he could only assume was a murderous

intent in the horse's eyes, he made up his mind.

"I mean you have good points," Casimir asked. "But I'm

sticking to my decision."

"Oh well, your loss," the gnome shrugged, tugging Onyx back

into its stable.

You have made a grave mistake,

Omen said.

Casimir returned to the inn, grabbed his stuff and left

town. The air of the day was cold and wet. The grassy fields before him were

calm and muddy. He walked along a rough path in the direction he thought was

best. Several times there were crossroads, and every time the voices told him

to go the wrong way. Eventually, Jeer told him to go the correct way, hoping to

trip him up by making him go the other way. Thankfully, Casimir had figured out

their games after dealing with them for so long.

You're no fun anymore, Cas,

Jeer pouted.

"No, I try not to be," Casimir responded.

The path you are traveling

is trodden with death's handwriting, Omen said.