The Hunger Behind the Hearth
Merrick Gorse: The Innkeeper Who Smiles Too Wide
“He’s generous, I’ll give him that. Always a smile, always a seat by the hearth.
Just don’t go downstairs. And if you hear something behind the pantry wall, no you didn’t.”
—Griswold Cain
The Story So Far
Merrick Gorse is a middle-aged innkeeper with strong hands, a soft voice, and an impeccable memory for names. For nearly twenty years he’s run The Hailstone Hearth, a modest roadside inn built against the edge of a wooded bluff. It serves caravan guards, pilgrims, lonely scholars, and—unfortunately—anyone Merrick finds particularly… radiant.
You see, Merrick has a hunger. A very specific one.
He devours joyful people.
Their laughter. Their stories. Their scent. And, eventually, their flesh.
He used to be careful. Once every few months, a traveler wouldn’t check out. He blamed wolves, the river, a jealous spouse. But lately, he’s slipping. He’s needing more. Something inside him is waking up—and it’s not human.
Villagers down the road are whispering. A bard went missing last month. So did a merchant’s apprentice. Now a gruff old groundskeeper is being eyed with suspicion, though he insists—truthfully—he knows nothing.
But Merrick knows.
And his freezer is full.
Who He Is
Merrick Gorse is not a vampire. He is not a ghoul. He is a man—cursed, corrupted, maybe both—but still a man. That’s what makes him terrifying.
He’s charming. Warm. Helpful. He has a daughter in another town (who thinks he’s a tailor). He plays the flute, keeps a tidy ledger, and bakes excellent oatcakes. And he loves watching happy people slowly realize something is wrong.
His feeding is ritualistic. He prepares the cellar with care: candles, ropes, precise incisions. He savors every moment. Sometimes he talks to the body as if it were still alive. He has rules—no children, no cruelty. But those rules are slipping too.
He does not want to be caught.
But he also does not want to stop.
Where You Find Him
The Hailstone Hearth stands alone on a mossy bluff where old roads converge. Three stories. Warm lights. Timber framing. It feels like a safe place—and that’s deliberate.
Ground Floor
- Main hall with firepit, bar, guest ledger
- Dining room, kitchen, pantry
- A locked storage room (actually the entry to the basement)
Upper Floor
- 5 guest rooms (one smells faintly of bleach)
- Merrick’s room (immaculate, but has a hidden crawlspace with keepsakes: jewelry, notes, scraps of fabric)
Basement (Hidden)
- Accessed by unlocking the pantry’s back wall
- Narrow stairs lead to:
- A butchery table
- Cold room (meat storage and old bones)
- Drainage troughs and blood-stained tiles
- A locked steel door to a final chamber used for… reflection
The basement has been soundproofed with packed moss, stone, and illusion runes.
Other Faces at the Inn
Tarn Mulley, the Groundskeeper
A sad, grizzled man in his sixties with bad joints and a big heart. Often seen with bloody rags (he butchers game for trade) or digging (he buries roadkill so guests don’t see it). Grunts instead of talks. Loves his beagle, Joshua, more than life.
Red Herring Potential:
- Players may spot him muttering in the woods
- He’s buried strange shapes (dead badgers)
- His hands are calloused and always shaking
He’s innocent. He knows something is wrong but fears he’d be blamed.
If befriended, he might reveal oddities—scraps of meat that look too… clean. Or guests that never say goodbye.
Clues and Hooks
The party may arrive by chance, or on the trail of missing persons.
Things That May Tip Them Off:
- A bloodied charm found in a firepit
- A diary page from a missing bard tucked behind a loose brick
- A guest room with a cracked window frame and signs of struggle
- Merrick’s too-perfect stories—always sympathetic, always calm
- The guest ledger shows names that never left… crossed out faintly
While at the Inn:
- Merrick is a gracious host. He wants them to stay
- He watches joyful characters most closely
- He may drug their drinks (easy to save against, subtle if not)
- He keeps his knife near always—but never shows it
Optional twist: NPCs arrive while the party is staying—friends or family of the missing. They ask around. Merrick plays dumb. But the players may spot details in the ledger, rooms, or tone that shift the balance.
Should It Come to Blood
Merrick’s Stats (System-Neutral Suggestions)
- HP: Moderate (enough to be scary but not a boss fight)
- Strength: Above average
- Speed: Surprisingly fast, especially in tight spaces
- Magic: Basic illusions—mimic sounds, disguise blood, create brief afterimages
- Tactics:
- Uses the terrain (trap doors, illusion walls, pantries that lock)
- Tries to isolate the most joyful PC
- Feigns innocence if caught: “I was protecting them! The joy, it calls to something dark—in the world, not in me!*”
- If desperate, flees into the cellar maze. Final stand.
Basement Combat Twists:
- Floors are uneven, wet, slippery
- Candles dim when magic is cast
- His final chamber may have trapped spirits or echoes of past victims
Ending & Outcome
There is no treasure chest. But if Merrick is caught or killed:
- You may find a journal: part confession, part love letter to joy
- Evidence for local authorities (bones, clothing, letters)
- A hidden room containing stolen trinkets (rings, flutes, pocket watches)
Optional haunting: One of the victims lingers. A spirit who didn’t want revenge—just to finish their song, or tell their brother goodbye. A final gift for a player who helped set them free.
Summary for the Storyteller
Merrick Gorse is an encounter in disguise. A full session or one-shot cloaked in warmth and hospitality. The fear doesn’t come from monsters, but from realizing who isn’t a monster—until they are.
Use him to build slow tension.
Drop details that seem benign, then bloom into dread.
Let players notice. Let them wonder. Let them stay the night.
When it breaks open, it should feel inevitable and chilling.
And Merrick will still be smiling.
