From, Blood’s History: Fields of Battle
Part of Blood Farm shares a border with Gods’ Hollow, a place where our world meets and melds with an infinite number of others. Like any true farm, we Bloods have always worked every bit of acreage we could. The borderland is no different in that regard.
There, however, is where the similarity ends. The borderland is dangerous, and many have experienced strange and disturbing events. Eight hired hands have vanished over the years, three more were killed outright. These vanishings and deaths have prompted me to hire only veterans to work the fields, men well aware of how to handle danger. Of the many men available for such work, the finest specimens are those who lost a limb during battle.
Perhaps the greatest of all these was a man named Jean Pierre De Dumas. I met him when I was in France for a short time after the Great War. He was a double amputee, a man who learned how to wield a scythe and to harvest. His determination and good humor were impressive, and I was able to convince him, as well as several others, to travel to Cross to work the fields.
He and his colleagues did just that. The harvested and planted, and when something foul tried to slip onto the Blood lands, Jean Pierre and the others stopped it.
His death was a surprisingly peaceful one. A mild heart attack in the midst of a dance with some of the eligible mill girls from Lowell.
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