Tucked away in the furthest corner of Menewsha sits a piece of land that today few of its citizens dare to explore. It is an ominous and dark place. But once upon a time this land and the now overgrown mansion that idles upon it were jewels of the island.

Long ago, the mansion was home to a brilliant and wealthy man of science named Alexander Marcheford.


Alexander Marcheford

Marcheford had been an adventurer in his earlier days, who traveled the world exploring exotic locations and searching out lost treasures. Previously unmarried, he eventually became a solitary soul, more concerned with his theorems and experiments than with affairs of the heart. That was until he met the young Eloise.


Eloise Marcheford

Eloise Marcheford was a beautiful creature whose heart, they say, shined with unequaled virtue. Twenty years his junior, the two seemed an odd pairing. He, a severe and stoic intellectual. She, a gentle and lighthearted spirit. But despite the differences, their love was true.

Having two children, Amelia and her younger brother, Sedrick, the couple lived happily for many years.

But a dark cloud would too soon settle on Marcheford Manor. The goodly Eloise, once filled with the vigor of life, took ill one winter, and within the season succumbed. Heartbroken, Alexander became a shell of his former self. Retreating once more into his old ways, Alexander secluded himself in his laboratory and cut he, his children and servants and the whole of Marcheford Manor from the rest of the world.

Menewshans would say that the manor was cursed the day Eloise died, for soon those associated with the house would perish as well in a series of unfortunate and mysterious accidents, including Marcheford’s two young children.

Was it cruel fate? Merely a coincidental string of tragic events? Or something much more sinister, as some would whisper? It was said, in hushed tones, that Alexander Marcheford would not allow death to come between he and his beloved and that he was willing to sacrifice anything to get her back. What this entails the truth may never be known, for on one Halloween night Alexander disappeared. The entire island was searched, but no trace of him was ever found.

For more than a century now, the mansion has sat desolate and alone, decaying with each passing year. The older folks spin strange and terrifying tales of the house. And they warn, to all those who would seek out Marcheford’s treasures, that the curse of Marcheford Manor still resides within its darkened walls and that death waits for them as well.