Rabbit Man
After the successful resolution of events at the Bone Wall, the Stability Council ordered me to drop out of sight and "suggested" I spend some time hiking on Earth Rustic guided by a couple of locally based agents, a husband and wife team by the name of Kaltador and Nico Waterfield. It was as far away as could be imagined from the constant tension that I had been living under for so long and I was happy to unwind and enjoy the tranquility of this bucolic realm. As the days lengthened to midsummer, we set out on a three day walk from the lively market town of Bannington, making for the uplands and the source of the river Bann.
The Waterfields were an elderly but sprightly couple and pleasant enough company, happy to talk when I wanted to talk and to enjoy the silence when I didn't. We crossed the river on fry bridge, then took a path heading east and north along the southern bank. The walk was an easy one, through open sloping meadows and along the edges of grain fields. In the early afternoon we reached dappled, deciduous woodland and there I was surprised when my companions suddenly stopped and dropped to one knee, bowing briefly before a small wayside shrine. I copied them as only seemed polite.
"Talfamtha is the spirit of the forest," Kaltador explained as we resumed our walk. "Here in the West Leaf March they respect her as the guardian of the trees and all the wild spaces beyond the land they farm. There are little shrines to her dotted all around the countryside and no traveller will pass one without acknowledging her. She's usually depicted as a beautiful but stern driad, although they say she can take many forms."
In the early evening as we drew close to the village of Banorchard, we emerged from the trees, footsore and just a little weary, to see a long, low, grassy hill stretching away on our left, populated with a large colony of rabbits, grazing contentedly. I was struck by the peaceful beauty of the scene and remarked that I had never seen such a substantial warren.
"It's good country for rabbits," Kaltador replied. "There have natural predators, of course, but there is always plenty to eat in these fields and they thrive here in the borderlands between farm and forest."
"I dare say the local cookpots are filled with more than their share of rabbit stew then," I added without much fear of contradition, but there I was wrong.
"Not so much as you might imagine," Nico said. "People in these parts are very careful when and how they hunt rabbits, even if they are prepared to do so at all."
"Why so?" I asked, intrigued.
"Will you allow me to tell you a traditional story from the West Leaf March?" Nico responded. "It is the tale of Rabbit Man."
Once, long ago, before there were kings and queens in the West Leaf March, there was a hunter named Elias who was renowned for his skill. He was feared by all the creatures of the forest, but especially by the rabbits, whom he killed not out of necessity, but for sport. Elias was particularly cruel—he would slaughter far more rabbits than he needed, leaving their bodies to rot in the fields. He mocked the gentle nature of the creatures and reveled in his power over them. One fateful evening, Elias ventured deep into the ancient woods in search of more game. He came upon a peculiar rabbit, larger than any he had ever seen, with eyes that glowed like embers in the dim light. Undeterred, Elias drew his bow, determined to make this creature his prize. But as he released the arrow, the air grew thick, and an eerie silence fell over the forest. Before the arrow struck, the rabbit spoke in a voice that reverberated through the trees: "Your cruelty knows no bounds, hunter. You revel in death and give no thought to life. Now you shall be judged!" For this was no rabbit, but the spirit of the forest, Talfamtha herself, who took human form to deliver the justice of the wilds.
The ground beneath Elias trembled, and a strange fog enveloped him. When it cleared, he found himself transformed—his human head replaced by that of a monstrous, twisted rabbit, with elongated jaws lined with sharp, ravenous teeth. His body was covered in pale, white fur, and he felt an uncontrollable hunger gnawing at him.
But this was no ordinary hunger—it was a hunger for vengeance. Talfamtha had cursed him. Now, as Rabbit Man, Elias was doomed to roam the woods, defending the very creatures he once slaughtered. He could no longer hunt for pleasure; instead, he became the protector of the rabbits, avenging any who sought to harm them.
Over the years, villagers began to speak of a shadowy figure that stalked the edges of their hunting grounds, waiting for those who dared to kill rabbits. Hunters who ventured too deep into the forest and returned with slain rabbits would mysteriously disappear, their bodies later found mutilated, as though torn apart by an animal—but no ordinary creature left such wounds.
As the legend spread, it was said that Rabbit Man's vengeance grew stronger with each passing year. He could smell the scent of rabbit blood from miles away, and if you killed one, he would come for you in the night. His monstrous form, with his sharp teeth and grotesque, distorted rabbit head, was said to haunt the dreams of children, warning them never to harm a rabbit, lest they meet his terrible wrath.
Elias had viewed the rabbits as weak, defenceless creatures, unworthy of respect or mercy. The curse made him into what he despised—a rabbit in form, but one who possessed a terrifying power. With the jaw and teeth of a supernatural predator, he would always hunger but never satisfy his bloodlust. His curse was eternal—he could not die nor escape his new form. The only way to find release was through the protection of those he once scorned. His role as avenger and guardian of the rabbits ensured that he would always be reminded of his past sins.
As the years passed, Rabbit Man became a warning to hunters: tread carefully in the forest, for it holds grudges. Parents told their children the tale to keep them from being cruel to animals, and some even left offerings of carrots or herbs at the forest's edge, hoping to appease Rabbit Man and ensure safe passage through the woods. Some claimed they saw the glowing eyes of Rabbit Man watching from the shadows. Others swore they heard his ravenous teeth gnashing in the night.
Whether the story is true or not, one thing remains certain: no one kills a rabbit in these lands without at least a little fear of the consequences, should they find themselves face to face with Rabbit Man.
The Queen's Head at Banorchard is a grand old inn, well appointed with a large common room, a renowned kitchen and a reputation for fine ale. It was an excellent place to stay at the end of our first day. The innkeep was a jovial fellow for whom nothing was too much trouble. I must admit, however, to a mischievous moment, when I asked him whether they served rabbit stew, and much to my amusement was rewarded with a horrified expression and a warning glare from the Waterfields. We all four laughed about it afterwards. The dinner was delicious, roast chicken, swedes, carrots, peas and potatoes. There was no hint of rabbit on the menu but there was a splendid cherry pie and cream for dessert. When we retired to our comfortable bedrooms, I fell asleep very quickly, tired by the exertions of the day but looking forward to tomorrow's walk into higher country. Only once in the night did I wake from a confused dream. Soft moonlight came through the window and a faint nighttime summer breeze. Perhaps it was just some post traumatic recollection of those events at the Bone Wall, which I was still coming to terms with, or perhaps it was something else. But ever so faintly I imagined I could just hear the gnashing of avenging teeth in that far dark countryside where Rabbit Man walks alone...
A wayside shrine to Talfamtha by DMFW with Midjourney
Talfamtha Portrait by DMFW with Leonardo AI
Once, long ago, before there were kings and queens in the West Leaf March, there was a hunter named Elias who was renowned for his skill. He was feared by all the creatures of the forest, but especially by the rabbits, whom he killed not out of necessity, but for sport. Elias was particularly cruel—he would slaughter far more rabbits than he needed, leaving their bodies to rot in the fields. He mocked the gentle nature of the creatures and reveled in his power over them. One fateful evening, Elias ventured deep into the ancient woods in search of more game. He came upon a peculiar rabbit, larger than any he had ever seen, with eyes that glowed like embers in the dim light. Undeterred, Elias drew his bow, determined to make this creature his prize. But as he released the arrow, the air grew thick, and an eerie silence fell over the forest. Before the arrow struck, the rabbit spoke in a voice that reverberated through the trees: "Your cruelty knows no bounds, hunter. You revel in death and give no thought to life. Now you shall be judged!" For this was no rabbit, but the spirit of the forest, Talfamtha herself, who took human form to deliver the justice of the wilds.
Talfamtha by DMFW with Leonardo AI
The Queen's Head at Banorchard is a grand old inn, well appointed with a large common room, a renowned kitchen and a reputation for fine ale. It was an excellent place to stay at the end of our first day. The innkeep was a jovial fellow for whom nothing was too much trouble. I must admit, however, to a mischievous moment, when I asked him whether they served rabbit stew, and much to my amusement was rewarded with a horrified expression and a warning glare from the Waterfields. We all four laughed about it afterwards. The dinner was delicious, roast chicken, swedes, carrots, peas and potatoes. There was no hint of rabbit on the menu but there was a splendid cherry pie and cream for dessert. When we retired to our comfortable bedrooms, I fell asleep very quickly, tired by the exertions of the day but looking forward to tomorrow's walk into higher country. Only once in the night did I wake from a confused dream. Soft moonlight came through the window and a faint nighttime summer breeze. Perhaps it was just some post traumatic recollection of those events at the Bone Wall, which I was still coming to terms with, or perhaps it was something else. But ever so faintly I imagined I could just hear the gnashing of avenging teeth in that far dark countryside where Rabbit Man walks alone...
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