Awakened in the dead of night, she rose to hear distant laughter echoing through the woods. Carefully she peered through the curtains of the window. What should have been silence and darkness was replaced with ghastly noises and flickering lights. Closing the curtains quickly, she joined the others just outside of D’or as they stared at the woods. The residents stood at the edge of the forest, stuck in fear as they watched the dancing lights changed the leaves from the summer green to autumn reds and oranges, then back to green. They were paralyzed by fear as they listened to the sounds, unable to determine if it was laughter, crying or wailing. Only one thing was clear. Amidst all the sounds, any do-wellers who were about to rush in, were stopped at the sight of a tall shadow, slender and angrily brandishing a broken bottle as a weapon. It said nothing as it was only a shadow, but it stayed in the forest, and the forest is where it shall remain.
On the other side of the lights, nestled deep in the forest, curiosity was replaced with panic. A fire raged on; bees rained from the sky, choking on the smoke that clouded their hives. Once carefully managed embers had turned into a bright hungry beast, ready to consume all it could. The few people that witnessed the fire in its full glory were rushing tirelessly in the dead of night to stop the fire where it stood, less the entire forest were to be engulfed.
By sunrise, the fires were quenched, but calling the battle a victory would seem inappropriate. Where once stood a grand hall with the sweet scent of mead bubbling away, now a pile of ash and embers. Where the sky was clear, a dense fog clouded the clearing with the scent of burnt oak. Where colonies containing thousands of bees stood, was now a graveyard.
But a desolate graveyard this clearing would not remain. Quite by chance, one barrel of mead was spared before the brewery burned to ground. An experimental mead with wild berry flavoring. The barrel, charred from the flames, turned what should have been a golden mead, into a dark liquid, with a smoky aftertaste. It tasted more like a hard whiskey then mead, and once opened, it was quickly drained. Men and women began to speculate that the hearty laughter heard that night was a spirit of the dead blessing the mead, creating a nectar of perfection. Thomas Overcoat, the owner of business, did little to dismiss these notions because the charred barrel drained faster than anything else he, his father, or his grandfather had ever served. Soon, after several loans, and rebuilding his brewery, his charred barrel would become a staple of the business, making Overcoat more money then three generations were able to accumulate. The Drunken Phantom was marked on a map, and the Phantom Brew is found in taverns all over Obrexia.
