The Shadows of Rockwater

Beneath the shadow of the mountain's spire,

A town was born, forged by earth and fire.

Rockwater they named it, strong as stone,

A place where whispers of legend are grown.

Its woods are deep, its rivers wide,

But shadows and secrets in them reside.

In days of old when the earth was young,

When the settlers came and songs were sung,

They carved a home from the rugged land,

Felled the trees with weary hand.

Yet whispers followed where axes fell,

Stories of things no tongue should tell.

By campfires bright, the elders spoke,

Of cries in the woods and the snapping of oak.

They warned the young to tread with care,

For not all in the forest is kind or fair.

And thus, the seeds of fear were sown,

A town of mortals where shadows roamed.

Each year would pass, and yet more would see,

That Rockwater was bound to mystery.

Not just by tale, nor by myth alone,

But by truths in the night that made grown men moan.

For beasts and specters, cryptids, and lore,

Lingered always just beyond the door.

One by one, the stories grew,

A girl possessed, her spirit askew.

A hunter stalked by a wendigo's call,

A woman of stone, who killed them all.

Each tale was born from a fearful heart,

Yet each seemed more than a fanciful art.

And so the people, though weathered and wise,

Knew Rockwater's truths were not woven lies.

They whispered warnings, their voices grim,

Of beasts that stalk in the forest dim.

"Beware the deer with their too-bright eyes,

And the cry in the night that a man denies."

"Do not tread near the lab on the hill,

Where metal and madness bend nature's will.

For in their halls, and beneath their stone,

Worse than the forest's own horrors are grown."

Thus, Rockwater thrived, but not without pain,

A town held fast by fear's grim chain.