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A dreary fog ridden town named Brimstock sat upon a cliff overlooking a great lake where the waters within were grey and still. Just at the edge was an old tower covered in moss that used to serve as housing for the lighthouse staff when the town had seen better days; the lighthouse nearby was in shambles and the upper half had fallen off long ago. It was there that an old man considered as eccentric as he was wise had taken residence. Along with him he had taken his student, a young man by the name of Lloyd; a stark contrast to the craven old man who's every inch and piece bore the marks of age. Lloyd was still in his prime and was considered a treat to be around when not engrossed in his studies. Their arrival to the small township had been brought about by medical intrigue rather than real-estate. The town was afflicted with some strange malady and madness that saw it rotting from the inside out, beginning with the people themselves. Lloyd had been tasked by his master with staying amongst the villagers to gather what he could about the disease, to see if it was truly some sort of virus or if it was born from the mind, but at the moment the young apprentice was more concerned about the mental state of his master rather than anything else. While he had been busy with the task at hand, his master had secluded himself within the tower and refused to come out after admitting the first two or three patients. It was a bit odd, but Lloyd would have faith in his master; it was the only source of light in the maddening town.

Today the morning could barely be told from the late evening hours, but then again; the norm was a grey blanket clouding the sun's light. Lloyd had taken residence in a small brick house that had served as a small school at one point. A quiet and simple building that seemed to have survived much better than the surrounding homes did. The locals were very generous in what they gave to him and his master; they sometimes even dropped off baskets full of bread and other little snacks or tributes. At times though, it was sweet, but as the days progressed it felt more cultish, feverish; desperate.

Lloyd would spend the day in his study, gathering his grim research. It was a terrible assort that hit the town. Something odd and never before seen. That was what had his master so excited to visit this town, it was entirely out of the realm of man and that was exactly what his master had been searching for; his legacy would be this town, or so old man Norman hoped. In his latest findings, the sick of the town simply seemed emotionally gone and their animation entirely void. They only ever went from one place to the other, muttering here and there and sniffling until finally they'd drop. Death visited only the luckiest though, sometimes the symptoms would become more dire. Choking fits, bleeding eyes, and shivers were among the most common.

Stranger still that their temperature seem perfectly fine and their heart rates not a touch too odd. With a sigh Lloyd began writing his letter. Each new piece of research had to be documented and sealed within a letter. It wasn't always this way of course. His master had once opened the doors of the tower and spoken with him face to face whenever need be, but now he seemed prefer communication through the use of some strange bird. A black and ornery thing he had taken as a pet. Occasionally it would visit and peck at his windows until he finally answered to receive his letter and send off his own. As if summoned, the very object of oddity was at the window by his study table, pecking at the window, eyes wide and staring directly at him. With a shiver, he rose from his seat, setting quill down to open the window, allowing the thing in. Certainly Lloyd was not without his good graces with the thing, animals were an interesting sort and so he always had some seed in hand for the thing to occupy itself while he finished his letters. Still he wondered why his master choose the bird to communicate, perhaps he feared contamination, or more likely he was too engrossed in his own research to see outsiders. After attending to the bird he sat back down to finish his letter. Other than the typical symptoms, the number of deaths had begun decreasing, suggesting some sort of immunity, or a mutation in the affliction itself, whether it was from some sort of disease that had spread through contaminated sources or truly human madness; it had still yet to be seen.

Returning to the bird with sealed letter in hand he noticed that it had a letter of its own now. Whether it had flown away and come back so quickly, or just hidden it, he didn't question. He only took the letter and gingerly handed it his own. With a squawk it grasped the letter in beak and flew out the window, content with its work. With a shaky sigh he sat back down, removing the seal from the letter to read the contents within, "Dearest Lloyd. I fear the symptoms will be worsening from now on. The people who survive the early symptoms especially seem to succumb to some sort of devilish pagan cultism that I cannot fathom; but I am curious. They speak of water and other worlds as if the two were connected...once or twice I was visited in the middle of the night by the sound of one of my patients drowning himself, but upon checking their quarters I find them calm and asleep. Please, be warned and be wary. You may find yourself in a similar situation."

His master's words were quite the frightening ones, but in a way it gave him hope. Norman was still the same man he had been before, his writing had told Lloyd that much at least. Lloyd would have to be on the watch for these zealots of water, and as for the self-drowning, that was a bit more dire as they lived near a lake. Pinching his brow he closed his eyes and stood from the desk. Truthfully he would rather leave the town that see this mystery through. Nothing in his lessons could have prepared him for this town's oddness. Taking himself from the table he grabbed his great coat and made his way out into the town itself to begin his daily checks and inquiries.

Gods be damned, his master had thusly given him the warning of men and women speaking water and worlds and here it was within the town as well. The check-ups were normal, very mundane until they began speaking. They asked if he had heard the water speaking, the water calling and he had of course replied in kind that he had no such recollection. Upon his reply they seemed to grow feverish and madder still. They raved on and on about the water and the lake in particular. Lloyd could only tell those still sane to watch the afflicted and make sure they do not go near the water for fear that they may indeed attempt to drown themselves in the water they held so dear. Such a thing drawing them to water reminded Lloyd of a parasite that latched itself within insects, bringing them up higher and higher so that they may be consumed by birds where the parasite would finish its life within the avian. Parasites. It could be parasites in the water, but Lloyd and many other villagers had drank from the well and nothing had happened to him or those others who were still sane. Nothing added up, nothing made sense, but still he returned to his home to make note of this new suspicion. Upon returning home he found another basket, this time a jar of water and a lantern of all things. The oddest thing. Taking it inside he promised himself he would throw out the stuff later, for he superstition guided his hand and he may as well have been drinking one of the afflicted's diseased precious water, but the lantern was useful. He could perhaps carry the thing and check to make sure no townsfolk were up at night trying to jump cliff. Until night came he would seclude himself, gathering his latest findings and organizing them so he could easily write another letter.

Lloyd had nothing to do after he finished gathering his research. He only waited for the squawking menace that he had come now to relate with a peaceful respite from all the madness, but he was only met with silence. His master must have been busy in the tower, and he dared not disturb the old man, for last time he had knocked upon the door he had been met with an angry cane and an old man's cursing. It seemed as though a century had passed until the night came. Lantern lit and at the ready, he decided it was time to investigate, to see if any villagers were gathered by the water as he thought might happen.

Lloyd made his way from his home, carefully shutting the door and being quick in his steps. The night always brought a certain dread upon him in this dying town. Small stone steps lead from the outer portions of the town down the cliff to a small shoreline. There he could see clearly there were indeed at least two people there upon their knees. He could see that much from afar and luckily they had put up torchlight for him to be able to spot them, but as he approached he noticed that they were stepping into the water and submerging their heads within it. With a rush he nearly fell and stumbled as he made his way down to the shore, "You there! Both of you! Stop this madness!" he called, but they did not abide. When he arrived he saw no bubbles from their struggled breaths, their bodies were limp, but he pulled them both free either way. Expecting the worst he checked their life. They were gone, so far gone, but they both sputtered and gasped sitting upright and breathing out. Under the fire light he could see that both of them were blue in the face and even bloating just a bit, contorting, or perhaps it was his own dread that brought upon such a sight. He could scarcely believe it when he heard the man's voice speaking, "Transcended....we can see so much now can't we?" Lloyd felt the blood empty from his cheeks as he paled. They were dead, even the man's voice spoke with gurgles and bubbling as if his lungs were full with the sloshing of water. Getting up, shaking, his hands clutching at his lantern he turned to walk away, leaving the two living corpses to recover on their own. He had more to log, more to write down and he hoped that to god that it was certainly some sort of nightmare he was stuck within and that none of this was true.

Sleep would not find him, mercy was not for him tonight. He could not rest, not a single second lest those terrible visions visit him again. Quill in shaking hand he began his account of that night and what he thought could have happened, although he had nothing, nothing at all that could explain it rationally. In his darkest moment he heard the tapping at the window that now brought a relieved sigh rather than a frightened one to his person. Standing, nearly knocking the chair over he opened the window and there was the bird again, with letter in beak. This time it was stained with a bit of blood. Warily, Lloyd took the letter and returned the favor with seed. Opening the letter he began to worry just a bit more. The handwriting was his master's, but sloppily done and at times faded. "Dearest student of mine. The dead walk. Have you had the misfortune of seeing it? The drowned come back to life, boiled and bubbling heads somehow still talking and walking upright like real men. Their zealous preaching has become naught but silent murmuring...and now I am tasked with finding the truth. I will find it at all costs. This will be my legacy. Young student, dear apprentice. I pray that you will not stay here. Leave this old man to his own devices and live your life in peace and leave this place."

Lips dry, eyes narrowed. Lloyd set the letter down and moved to sit at his desk. Quill in hand he wrote his reply, "I will not leave. These drowned have me curious. I have encountered two in the village. It was frightening indeed, and sleep will not find me, but I will stay and lead the folk who are still sane in dealing with this malady. We will succeed." it wasn't so much of a letter as it was an ultimatum. He was not going to leave until they succeeded. Handing the bird the letter along with his latest findings and theories he breathed out watching it fly out into the night. The days to come would be much more harrowing.

Sleep still had not found him and it showed in the bags under his eyes. Soon enough he would be as old as his master if the stress of it all would not stop. The next day he found himself simply standing outside of his door, whether for fresh or air or for what he wasn't certain, but there was a curious sight. Drowned were walking among the villagers with their bloated heads and odd murmuring as if they were nothing new. One such sane man came to him and asked, "Dear doctor...you see this madness that befalls us? I ask what should we do? We are too frightened and simple to take action...should we...should we put them out of their misery?"

Chewing at his lips was a terrible habit, but he did so either way before speaking, "No...we send them to the tower....Norman can study them, understand them, although I will be honest we have no answers at all for this and are as confused as you lot." With a quick nod the man was away to tell the rest of the folk about the latest plan. Taking them to the tower was the only action they could do and as he had expected his masters accepted them without much worry.

It seemed that some folk were entirely immune to the disease as they had not succumb to even the simplest of symptoms, and at the same time there were new symptoms as well. Men and women alike scratching at skin until it became bloody. Many times Lloyd had to, with help, hold down and restrain people from gashing themselves with their nails which had seemed to grow so thin and sharp. It was a disturbing sight that had his eyes looking towards the town church. He needed a bit of blind prayer before continuing his work. At the church he found no peace though, all he found was the pastor speaking of how the pagan's had returned to take their revenge, how their curses had come from the ground and grasped the souls of their weak. Superstition and nonsense, but certainly something strange was happening within the town, something that neither his master or himself could put their fingers on, but they would be getting closer, closer still with the examination of those drowned, or so he had hoped; and at the same time he hoped to never learn the source at all.

At the church and while the pastor went on and on with his own ravings, Lloyd had to ask himself whether or not the disease was contagious through blood or contact. He had been splashed with the blood of one such woman who was clawing herself and now he was concerned that he would develop symptoms. He would have to monitor himself closely to see if he showed any signs. If he did he would take himself immediately to the tower, rather dissected than drown himself and become one of them. Still, Lloyd breathed in deeply, he had to remain calm. After the small sermon was over he made his way back home. The church was far more frightening than he had expected. The talk especially of executing poor souls afflicted was especially concerning, but at the same time not entirely insane. If the disease was incurable then perhaps death was the only answer. He needed solace, peace, something to keep his mind off of the men and women of the town. Again he returned to his housing to find a basket left out by door. This time full of crawling slugs and yet again a jar of water. The sight had him more confused than anything else. He left the woven basket where it had been dropped off and entered his home. Perhaps the reason his master had secluded himself was because the town itself was far too maddening, but then again he wondered how his master faired with all of those people within the tower afflicted and mad. Finally at his place of seclusion he sat at his study desk, quill in hand even though he had no parchment with which to write. He only held it in hand, twirling it around, collecting his thoughts. He would need to before writing down any of the new things encountered, and yet he figured that his master would be encountering the same thing so why bother? Growing impatient he opened his window in hopes that the craven creature would find its way inside of his study quickly with some news from his master.

It seemed like ages, he sat there, foot tapping at the floor. He was lost in thought. Had the symptoms begun, was he already mad and afflicted by the disease? Or perhaps he was suffering from the stress of it all which seemed all the more plausible, but the least frequent reason in his mind. Soon enough his source of peace came flying through the window and directly landing on his shoulder for a change. With a sigh his shoulders lowered and his body paused. His eyes wide he saw before him the letter that was dropped this time seemed as though it had been drenched in blood. The stuff was dry, but it was clearly blood. Removing the seal he opened the letter to see it in even more of a mess. The handwriting barely legible, bloody fingerprints here and there, the contents were the true concern, his master's tone different than usual, "There. I see you are curious as well. You cannot cannot cannot stay. You must be off. This wretched place has. It has taken me. I fear Lloyd that I cannot leave. I cannot see anymore from one eye. I...I have lost it, I fear I have lost a single eye and yet I know it is still there. The madness that afflicts the townsfolk. I do not know where it comes from, but leave. Leave at once and never return. The town, the church the people themselves are an affront to nature and I cannot understand it, but I so badly desire to, so achingly to understand it...simply trying to has become my curse, my disease all on to my own, please Lloyd, leave."

The letters were written poorly, the spacing was odd and the words shone with desperation. Norman wanted Lloyd free of this place as soon as possible, but why was he so desperate when Lloyd had promised to see this through? Had something terrifying been seen, something unspeakable been discovered. He had his chance to go, to leave, perhaps he would get sleep far away from this terrible place, but he would never live with himself without satisfying his curiosity. What happened to his master? Why was old master Norman unable to leave the tower himself and his eye?! What had happened within there, he would find out now and never later. Looking to the bird upon his shoulder he decided that his last delivery would be himself. Standing from the chair he made his way outside, grabbing coat and scarf alike. Outside there were none of the sane members of the town, only the drowned and the rabid shambled around. The town was brightly lit by torch and lantern, the full moon high. Where had the rest of the folk gone? He would never find out, at least he hoped to never find out. Making his way through the dirt and stone laced roads he found himself at the great tower that housed his master. Without so much as the grace of knocking, he tore open the door and stepped inside. The interior was lit by torches upon the wall and he could see the spiral staircase the led up to the medical wing that his master had established. Chewing upon his lips he began his way up the steps, ignoring the dark stains upon the stone steps.

The tower was silent, deathly so and he could feel his mind drowning in it. How he had not succumb to madness by now was an eternal mystery. Perhaps it was because he truly never wished to know at all what was going on; perhaps that was what kept him sane. Finding himself at the medical wing door he opened it slowly only to fall upon one knee while holding his mouth, nearly retching from the sight. There they were. The afflicted both drowned, rabid and more tied to beds with long belts. Both natural humans and strange assortment of afflicted creatures lined the beds with various metallic prong and instrument jutting from their bodies. From where he now stood he saw that some of them had their eyes plucked and their limbs cut free. He could see where he stood that the vast majority of them were deformed in many ways far worse than the drowned. Arms and legs full of hair and budging, heads no longer retaining human shape but instead large masses of what appeared to be moss. It was the oddest thing and his curious eyes kept him glued upon the sight. He couldn't turn away. The walls held strange markings that seemed to be burrowed deep within the stone and painted with what looked to be blood and flecks of skin. His eyes had fooled him, those marks, those runes had been pulsing, as if they were living creatures breathing. Through some force of self will he managed to tear himself away with a gasp. He realized then that he was in a cold sweat. He needed to find his master and be rid of this place immediately. At the top he would find the master's room, the master's study. Norman would be there no doubt. Lloyd needed to hurry.

A few times he had fallen upon one knee rushing up the steps now. He had one of the torches held firmly in hand now, not because he feared the dark, no, he feared that one of the many afflicted had gotten free. Those afflicted had turned into strange and odd creatures not seen by man, and he would not meet one without a way to defend himself. Upon reaching the top of the steps and the final door he noticed that his master's door was just a crack open meaning his master had just recently arrived, or that he had so sloppily forgotten to shut the door. The bird upon his shoulder began squawking and flapping its wings, a noise that seemed so natural compared to what he had seen, a noise that wouldn't stop as he opened the door. There he saw the true horror that had befell his master. Norman sat there at his study, one much like Lloyd's, eyes blankly staring down at books, arms limp at his sides, one deformed and entirely full of hair. His head itself had been covered on one half with eyeballs and the other with strange slug like appendages. Suddenly the creature that wore his master's clothes let out a gasping breath and began coughing while speaking, voice ragged and wet, "You...you interrupt me while I seek the answer to this plague! You must be mad yourself...or...Lloyd....Lloyd I can feel it be true...you're here...here with my precious bird...No! This is not what I had intended! You cannot see me in such a way...why...why must it be this way...this...arcane and foul endeavor should have never been taken and I was a fool for bringing you...let fear run thick through your heart and never seek what has happened here...RUN!" at that last work his master fell from his chair turning over to face him and letting out a sorrowful noise. Eyes wet with tears and body shaking Lloyd approached and put his hands up to his own head before looking over to the book his master had been eyeing. It held the seal of his master. It must have been his journal. Taking it quickly he held it in his shaky hands and looked down at the mass that had been his master. With that he ran from the room, ran from the tower and only collected the bare essentials to leave the town and its filth, to leave the beasts and craven creatures that those once human had become. No one would believe him, no one would ever hear him, he would find out those answers himself and he would need a team of those similarly minded, yes, yes he would find answers without a doubt to this terror and succeed his master! It was the least he could do for poor Norman, for he could not stop the old man himself, so he would finish his cursed duty, or die trying.

Norman lay there, deformed and abandoned. His mind was finally slipping to madness as he saw his final failure leave. Laughing, a cackling and throaty sound, he stood himself upright and spoke in a shaky quiet voice, "He took it...he took my knowledge...he took it all, and all is what he will have. The fool will be undone and the curse will be found again, dear gods what have I wrought upon us all with this, I should have burned, burned alive! But still...still we can burn together...I only pray...Lloyd...be safe and close your mind.." with the last of his strength and sanity he cast the candles and lanterns in his room upon the floor, burning book and wood alike and there he knelt in the fire. A smile upon what was left of his deformed face.

That night the town of Brimstock burned. It burned and none survived. Not even those few left sane had lived the fire, and it was said that none had even tried. Perhaps they all had feared they were damned and this was their penance, the only one who had made it was a student doctor by the name of Lloyd, and even he had gone missing along with the journal of his master Norman. Whatever happened there, hopefully it would never happen again.