The year is 1488 and the village of Prencott is ill at ease. It may be witches, it may be werewolves, or it may be nothing at all but everyone is out to blame someone, and everyone is out to cover their own arses. The fine balance between rumour and hysteria is about to topple. Mr Bramblebee is forming a mob at the tavern as we speak. Mrs. McGinty is always acting strange and Lady Braithwaite has been gathering with robed figures at the lake by moonlight. There’s something prowling in the woods and bodies have been going missing from the churchyard recently.
Heads will roll and bodies will smoulder. Don’t be one of them.