Nauvras

"Stay away from those fields child. Lest ye want to fill the Noon Devil's belly…" -Old nan to grandson Imagine sprinting through a corn field, the stalks towering above as you plead with your heart to cease hammering. The soil smells strange, so filled with blood you can taste the metal. Though it's nearly midday, your body goes cold as a wave of helplessness encases you like thick fog. To your left snaps a stalk. You can run, but that would be beyond futile. You belong to Nauvras, the Noon Devil, now. There once was a humble farmer named Bran. For many years, his farm was plundered by thieves, the property too large to patrol effectively. With hirable men of arms in short supply, the frustrated farmer racked his brain for methods of keeping the thieves at bay. One of which involved the addition of scarecrows. Putting his ingenuity to the test, Bran stationed the scarecrows around his property, attaching them to rigs which would pivot back and forth with the wind. From a distance, the scarecrows looked like patrolling guards, and for a time this ruse was quite effective indeed. Then the thieves caught on. When word spread that the guards were phony, pillaging resumed. Beyond frustrated, Bran cursed the thieves aloud drunkenly in a local tavern as he drowned in self-pity and mead. From the shadowy corners of the tavern, a hooded woman sat listening with much intrigue. Seating herself across from Bran, the woman claimed she could solve his problems indefinitely; that she could make his scarecrows come to life. Bran nearly doubled with laughter, until she froze him with a look that could kill. "Meet me in your cornfield tomorrow at noon," she said, leaving the poor farmer dumbfounded. Nursing a headache the following day, the farmer did as he was told. He waited impatiently until the stalks rustled and the woman emerged as promised. Taking Bran's hand, she sliced his palm and placed it against the center of the scarecrow before he could protest. His hand throbbing, Bran grimaced in annoyance until it felt as though his very heart was passing through his fingertips into the scarecrow. The woman cackled as straw replaced flesh and buttons covered his eyes. Helping herself to his larder, she bade him good luck in protecting his fields. "You won't need it, now," she laughed before disappearing into the stalks.