As noted by passersby: A butcher by the name of Dale Cooter is the only living person who witnessed a Dizzanrur. It’s said he frequents the broken-down tavern at the end of the road on Wednesdays. If you spot him, ask him about The Leonard Boys.
“I hear you want to buy me a drink in exchange for a story? Well, go on, and don't be cheap for the hands tremble.” Dale Cooter guzzled a shot of brandy while grabbing another. “Ahh… what's that? You're going to have to speak up, son, I'm a bit death in the one ear. Oh, you want to hear about The Leonard Boys? Well, why didn't you say so? That'll cost you extra, but I don't mind as long as memory serves me. Now, let's see, where were we? Ahh… yes, The Leonard Boys.”
The wench made her rounds serving you and Dale Cooter a plate of cabbage, beans, and stale bread.
“I was in the woods that day when I saw The Leonard Boys lost their life. It was the end of the day, light was fading, but you know boys, they have to get it right. The two were practicing their hammer throws, they were getting so good. I was so proud of them. That's when I heard the first cry. One of the lads had scratched himself. I laughed it off, keeping a working eye. Moments later, I heard another. I turned around to see what all the din was about when from out of the canopy fell a creature like the shadows of the night. The boys tried to fight it off.” Dale Cooter made the sign of the cross. “May God rest their souls, but they were no match for its size, and before knowing, them poor boys were torn from neck to heel. It all happened so fast, there was naught a thing I could do. If asking, that thing came from out of nowhere, shot straight from the pits of helle! It don't belong here. No sir, it don't belong here.”
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