Most of them died well, if badly.
Marcus Forthright was a man I had known since his mother gave birth to him in our stable. His parents had taken shelter with us in 1796, and a hell of a storm kicked up. The dead were active in the main house, so my father had me keep them company in the stable.
Mr. and Mrs. Forthright didn’t care so long as they were out of the elements.
Well, long before dawn, Marcus entered the world, and I kept my eye on him. I felt as though I was his older brother, and despite my lack of significant aging, I always played that role with him.
In August of 1814, both his parents were killed by a lycanthrope. The beast had been human when they found it, wounded, and mauled from an attack. They took it in, cared for it, and nursed it back to health, never knowing its true nature.
They learned soon enough.
Marcus was fortunate enough to be out of the house when the attack happened, but it nearly cost him his freedom. When his parents’ bodies were discovered by a relative visiting from Boston, the werewolf had returned to the Hollow, and a judge was sent for to see about Marcus’ guilt. Fortunately for him, Marcus had been with me, and despite my youthful appearance, my word carried weight in town.
Marcus realized how he had been to swinging from the gallows, and he disliked the attention the town had received due to his parents’ killings. He decided the best option was to create a newspaper, one that could, in his words, control the flow of information. He would help transform the truth into rumor and to keep the town as safe from the outside world as possible.
Marcus thus founded the Cross Sentinel Newspaper, and its motto was created in honor of his parents: Nulla Re Bona Impunita.
“No good deed goes unpunished.”
It is a sad and bitter truth.