mysterious activity in abandoned factory
An abandoned factory in the Darker Crestwood region of Hemlock, Niamine, has mysteriously resumed operation, despite the fact that nobody seems to have a clue what’s actually being made there, or — perhaps more ominously — on who’s instruction.
Decommissioned in the mid 60s, the factory was once the now-defunct airship manufacturer Grislebaum & Daughters & Son & One Half-Nephew’s principal assembly yard, until the company imploded due to family infighting (which absolutely nobody saw coming).
The site was then briefly used as a military hospital during the Whiskerwound Occupation — imbuing it with a selection of rather nasty bellicose curses — before becoming truly abandoned in 68 AC, when the ghost of the Headless Airman finally opted to go and haunt somewhere with better ventilation (turns out ghosts can still contract asthma, the sciology of which still isn’t fully understood).
Locals in nearby towns weren’t especially forthcoming when I tried to glean more detail from them about the factory’s recondite resumation, though I did manage to divine a half-spurious-at-best account from a gibbering idiot in Dellthorne:
‘It’s the screams, the screams in the night! They keep us awake, and set the dogs to barkin. Oh, the bedevilment, the terrors that transpire in that place… it’s enough to make you want to weep from the weight of it all. And the smell! The perpetual smell of crispy bacon, tantalising under brighter circumstance, no-so much when you don’t know who gave the meat. Even less-so much when you think you actually have a pretty good idea of who gave the meat… poor Edwin…
‘We did think to ask if they could be a fetch more neighbourly in their deviations, but it just seemed a little rude to impose. Besides, no one who goes near the place ever comes back, we saw fit to stop sending after a while. They all end up on the bus in the end… aye, the bus, the death carriage — a ghostly thing, terrible, truly terrible, to behold… takes them down the abandoned turnpike (still get charged the toll, though, thievin bastards) and to the abandoned shipyard, and from there, well, I wouldn’t dare to guess.’
‘Onto the abandoned cruise liner, perhaps?’ I ventured.
‘Sounds a little farfetched to me, but I’ll not disagree with you if that’s your believin.’
To offer an optimistic perspective, all of this could just be an honest attempt by some generous benefactor to revitalise the region’s abundantly stagnant infrastructure… though having just heard the screaming for myself, I’ll admit that the chances of that being the case aren’t excellent.
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