After repeating her report of her late-mother's antics of the nights before she died, Jenny Dinsdale nervously asked
the Witch that was scrutinising a corner of the bedroom wall, if she believed her Ma would rise from the dead. Peggy
Powler felt the rough surface of the wallpaper and then turning to look at the dowdy young woman sitting on the bed,
she glanced towards the Preacher before she put on her best smile of kindness she could generate.
"Nay lass, yer Ma's affliction doesn't work like that..." Peggy said and patted the tearful Ms Dinsdale on her folded hands
as she sat down beside her. The last Witch of Underhill was a little hesitant to continue, but she decided that if she spoke
her mind now, it would benefit both Jenny and Father Jacobs.
"Yer' see what happened was when Doramus visited yer' mother, he did so to attain his fodder..." Peggy explained slowly.
Father Jacobs' eyes widened at the bluntness of the sorceress' exposition, but decided to remain silent. After all, this was
a learning exercise for him too.
"...Normally such a creature needs to frequent its victims to create itself -not just a varied location where it would be difficult
to see a pattern, but to fortify its number. It seems the nasty buggers likes company" she said and hoped the mild levity would
lift the spirits of her small audience.
It didn't.
Peggy leaned closer to the sniffing maiden and continued. "But this Barguest divna' knows its purpose and so just randomly
attacks and that is how Ah' know we catch him" she offered with conviction and peered at the man in his non-religious garb.
"Oh Aye, he's buggered-up reet proper" Peggy stated in a sibilate tone.
...................................................
The stark trees gave an unwelcoming feeling to the cold countryside, the effects of agriculture in the area had pushed back the
moorland and with the little steads of farmers impacting on the surrounding, the woodlands had appeared. But at this time of
the year, the leafless branches only brought a sense of woebegone and melancholy to the environs of Little Compton.
"I don't see anything..." Mathew Jacobs said, his clothes were apt for the dank still late-afternoon as -after Peggy had coached
the Priest to cancel his evening ceremony, the usually-reserved man now stood near the decrepit fence at the rear of the Dinsdale
property in his stout boots and a thick woven tweed suit. "...Doramus won't be hanging about here, you said it yourself" he added
and corrected himself from nearly using the term 'Yer'.
Peggy squatted on the sodden earth and stared out towards the line of birch and poplars, there were no tracks and not really a
natural run that occurs from regular animal traffic. A passing rook gave its judgment on the half-assed act of tracking and Peggy
had to reluctantly agree with the solitary corvus, she needed to do better.
Standing up and correcting her balance, the ruminating Witch asked her standoffish colleague to point in the general direction
of the cave where Doramus was residing. Mathew tapped his lip before aiming a finger in the approximate position if the beast's
hideaway and then looked curiously the small woman smiling up at him.
"That'll explain Jenny's weird account of her mutha's behaviour..." she with a lilted-tone of delight, "Ah' wasn't sure at first until
it dawned on me the old woman wasn't starin' at the wall... she was starin' at somethin' beyond the bloody-wall" she added and
patted her partner's elbow. "Old Martha was hankerin' for her next dose of vampyre bites and unknowingly, was actin' like a bat
reacting to a movin' moth!" Peggy proclaimed and tugged at the Preacher's sleeve.
"Come on marra', we gotta walk that way" she said and set-off towards the naked trees that waited just across the half-ploughed
field. Jacobs -without his armour of religion to harness the situation, hurried after the bare-footed magician and sighed at the mud
clogging his boots.
...................................................
"But I don't get it Peggy..." the breathless Verger said "...Doramus won't be using the cave, surely he'd know we know where it is"
he offered as they both clambered over a makeshift stile in the fence belonging to Marnie Carter, a local farmer. Noticing the
alarming amount of bare thigh that Ms Powler was showing during the crossing, Mathew was seriously considering that the avid
Witch might not be wearing bloomers.
But he opted to say nothing about her unusual accoutre and stayed with his narrative of doubt.
Peggy stopped and fished into her satchel for a reason to give the Priest a few minutes respite, they'd been walking for about
an hour and the light had almost gone. Yet, he'd declined to mention any concerns about the oncoming gloom or a fear of what
might be lurking behind any tree. She gave him credit for that and so, he deserved a rest.
The sturdy flask that appeared from the Witch's canvas bag contained a fine booster to their trek, it was hot chicory laced with
honey and -what Jacobs guessed was, a small quantity of brandy. "It's te' keeps the cold out" Peggy had assured the relishing
rector, although he believed a good pair of underwear would do a better job for the woman holding the flask.
"Aye...I mean yes, it's a fine tonic against the elements" he agreed and repeated his query.
Nodding as if to appreciate the puzzle, the Witch straightened her hat and explained.
"Ah' think what happened when yer' were settin' alight his den, was that Doramus tried to alter his appearance wiv' the idea
that it might help him get out of his predicament" Peggy said and waited for a nod of comprehension from the man emptying
his cup. "The blaze was too intense and being a Vampyre that was more animal than human, his need to escape drove him
to fight through the flames and leave him in a permanent state of hybrid"
Father Mathew Jacobs' features showed his mental cogitation as he followed the line of reasoning and then his eyes lit-up as he
reached the finishing-line of the proposed result. Daramus was half-animal, half-man. "Whey yer' bugg...Well good-heavens!"
he declared and stared out in the direction they were going.
Now fully garrisoned with a hot brew inside them, the investigative pair set-off to the secluded ex-hideout of the Barguest.
the Witch that was scrutinising a corner of the bedroom wall, if she believed her Ma would rise from the dead. Peggy
Powler felt the rough surface of the wallpaper and then turning to look at the dowdy young woman sitting on the bed,
she glanced towards the Preacher before she put on her best smile of kindness she could generate.
"Nay lass, yer Ma's affliction doesn't work like that..." Peggy said and patted the tearful Ms Dinsdale on her folded hands
as she sat down beside her. The last Witch of Underhill was a little hesitant to continue, but she decided that if she spoke
her mind now, it would benefit both Jenny and Father Jacobs.
"Yer' see what happened was when Doramus visited yer' mother, he did so to attain his fodder..." Peggy explained slowly.
Father Jacobs' eyes widened at the bluntness of the sorceress' exposition, but decided to remain silent. After all, this was
a learning exercise for him too.
"...Normally such a creature needs to frequent its victims to create itself -not just a varied location where it would be difficult
to see a pattern, but to fortify its number. It seems the nasty buggers likes company" she said and hoped the mild levity would
lift the spirits of her small audience.
It didn't.
Peggy leaned closer to the sniffing maiden and continued. "But this Barguest divna' knows its purpose and so just randomly
attacks and that is how Ah' know we catch him" she offered with conviction and peered at the man in his non-religious garb.
"Oh Aye, he's buggered-up reet proper" Peggy stated in a sibilate tone.
...................................................
The stark trees gave an unwelcoming feeling to the cold countryside, the effects of agriculture in the area had pushed back the
moorland and with the little steads of farmers impacting on the surrounding, the woodlands had appeared. But at this time of
the year, the leafless branches only brought a sense of woebegone and melancholy to the environs of Little Compton.
"I don't see anything..." Mathew Jacobs said, his clothes were apt for the dank still late-afternoon as -after Peggy had coached
the Priest to cancel his evening ceremony, the usually-reserved man now stood near the decrepit fence at the rear of the Dinsdale
property in his stout boots and a thick woven tweed suit. "...Doramus won't be hanging about here, you said it yourself" he added
and corrected himself from nearly using the term 'Yer'.
Peggy squatted on the sodden earth and stared out towards the line of birch and poplars, there were no tracks and not really a
natural run that occurs from regular animal traffic. A passing rook gave its judgment on the half-assed act of tracking and Peggy
had to reluctantly agree with the solitary corvus, she needed to do better.
Standing up and correcting her balance, the ruminating Witch asked her standoffish colleague to point in the general direction
of the cave where Doramus was residing. Mathew tapped his lip before aiming a finger in the approximate position if the beast's
hideaway and then looked curiously the small woman smiling up at him.
"That'll explain Jenny's weird account of her mutha's behaviour..." she with a lilted-tone of delight, "Ah' wasn't sure at first until
it dawned on me the old woman wasn't starin' at the wall... she was starin' at somethin' beyond the bloody-wall" she added and
patted her partner's elbow. "Old Martha was hankerin' for her next dose of vampyre bites and unknowingly, was actin' like a bat
reacting to a movin' moth!" Peggy proclaimed and tugged at the Preacher's sleeve.
"Come on marra', we gotta walk that way" she said and set-off towards the naked trees that waited just across the half-ploughed
field. Jacobs -without his armour of religion to harness the situation, hurried after the bare-footed magician and sighed at the mud
clogging his boots.
...................................................
"But I don't get it Peggy..." the breathless Verger said "...Doramus won't be using the cave, surely he'd know we know where it is"
he offered as they both clambered over a makeshift stile in the fence belonging to Marnie Carter, a local farmer. Noticing the
alarming amount of bare thigh that Ms Powler was showing during the crossing, Mathew was seriously considering that the avid
Witch might not be wearing bloomers.
But he opted to say nothing about her unusual accoutre and stayed with his narrative of doubt.
Peggy stopped and fished into her satchel for a reason to give the Priest a few minutes respite, they'd been walking for about
an hour and the light had almost gone. Yet, he'd declined to mention any concerns about the oncoming gloom or a fear of what
might be lurking behind any tree. She gave him credit for that and so, he deserved a rest.
The sturdy flask that appeared from the Witch's canvas bag contained a fine booster to their trek, it was hot chicory laced with
honey and -what Jacobs guessed was, a small quantity of brandy. "It's te' keeps the cold out" Peggy had assured the relishing
rector, although he believed a good pair of underwear would do a better job for the woman holding the flask.
"Aye...I mean yes, it's a fine tonic against the elements" he agreed and repeated his query.
Nodding as if to appreciate the puzzle, the Witch straightened her hat and explained.
"Ah' think what happened when yer' were settin' alight his den, was that Doramus tried to alter his appearance wiv' the idea
that it might help him get out of his predicament" Peggy said and waited for a nod of comprehension from the man emptying
his cup. "The blaze was too intense and being a Vampyre that was more animal than human, his need to escape drove him
to fight through the flames and leave him in a permanent state of hybrid"
Father Mathew Jacobs' features showed his mental cogitation as he followed the line of reasoning and then his eyes lit-up as he
reached the finishing-line of the proposed result. Daramus was half-animal, half-man. "Whey yer' bugg...Well good-heavens!"
he declared and stared out in the direction they were going.
Now fully garrisoned with a hot brew inside them, the investigative pair set-off to the secluded ex-hideout of the Barguest.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.