People celebrate his demise and yet at night,
he returns...to ride and kill once again!
The headless horseman, disgraced and beheaded for a crime most foul, emerges from the swamps. Attending him, undead paiges and evil spirits cling to their gallop.
They chant in one voice: “Off with its head! Off with its head!”. This grim parade moves through the nearby villages, seeking those foolish enough to not take heed of the calendar date and sure enough they collect heads by gnawing, slashing, cutting them from their clueless necks. Last year’s night of the hunt was a special one. The villagers stood up for themselves as they found out their divine wards were lacking, pitchforks in hand.
They dared to make a stand against the Headless Knight in his curse circle, of removing the heads of those who crossed paths with it or its entourage. It was a massacre. A bloodbath so large, an entire village has become abandoned and haunted, their people slaughtered in one night. It is in these swamplands where the realm of the headless knight takes shape. In its soil, it plants a new army. For once a year they come from the floor singing the song ‘Off with its head! Off with its head’ as they march along.