Lavidia Vanslow & the Legend
THE CURSED HAUNT TALE
Some curses are never meant to be broken.
The Origin of the Curse
In the mid 1800s, a traveling family of Romani people, led by their matriarch, Lavidia Vanslow, arrived in the countryside outside Crown Point, Indiana. They came seeking a place to camp, rest, and recover from the hardships of their travels. But the people of Crown Point had little interest in welcoming strangers.
Not long after the travelers settled outside the town, livestock began dying, sickness spread through the surrounding communities, and misfortune seemed to follow wherever the newcomers went. The townsfolk were quick to find someone to blame. In their eyes, the arrival of Lavidia and her people was no coincidence.
What the townsfolk failed to understand was that the travelers were already fighting a terrible sickness of their own. One by one, members of Lavidia’s family and companions fell ill. Many died in their camp, far from the homes and lands they had once known.
Fear soon turned to hatred. Convinced that the travelers were responsible for the suffering, the people of Crown Point and neighboring towns drove them from the area.
Weak, grieving, and with nowhere safe to go, Lavidia led the surviving members of her people away. They traveled despite their illness, desperate to escape the persecution that had claimed what little peace they had left. But the journey proved fatal. Before long, nearly everyone under Lavidia’s care had perished.
The world had taken her family. The townsfolk had taken her home. And now, the land she had sworn to protect had become the place where her people were buried.
But the townsfolk of Crown Point had made one terrible mistake.
They had mistaken the guardians for the curse itself.
The Tree of Death
Most people have heard of the Tree of Life, a symbol of creation, renewal, and the endless cycle of existence. But every light casts a shadow, and every blessing carries the possibility of a curse.
Where there is life, there must also be death.
And somewhere in the world stands a tree that embodies that darkness.
It is known only as the Tree of Death.
For generations, Lavidia’s ancestors had been entrusted with guarding the tree, protecting the living from the evil that dwelled within its roots. The tree was no ordinary plant. Its roots reached into places beyond human understanding, and its branches stretched across the boundaries of time and space. Its presence could poison the land, corrupt the minds of the living, and awaken horrors that should never have existed.
The tree was never meant to be destroyed. It could not be destroyed.
It could only be watched.
The true reason Lavidia and her people had settled outside Crown Point was to keep the Tree of Death contained and protect the surrounding communities from its influence. The sickness, the dying livestock, and the growing misfortune were not necessarily the work of the travelers. They were symptoms of something far older and far more sinister.
Yet the people they had come to protect turned against them.
As Lavidia watched her family and friends die, something inside her finally broke. Her grief became rage, and her rage became a hunger for vengeance. The duty that had defined her bloodline for generations no longer mattered. The people of Crown Point had shown her no mercy, so she would give them none.
In her darkest hour, Lavidia turned toward the very evil she had sworn to contain.
And the Tree of Death answered.
Using its ancient power, Lavidia twisted the souls and bodies of some of her surviving kin, transforming them into nightmarish beings. Others were corrupted beyond recognition, their humanity swallowed by hatred, madness, and darkness.
Then she laid a curse upon Crown Point and the surrounding region.
The curse would not end with those who had wronged her. It would pass through their bloodlines, reaching their children, their grandchildren, and generations yet unborn. No family would be entirely beyond its reach. No passage of time would guarantee their safety.
And so the curse endured.
Decades became centuries. The old stories faded into folklore. The names of the dead were forgotten, and the terrible events that had once shaken the region became little more than rumors whispered around campfires.
People grew up, went to work, raised families, and lived ordinary lives. They walked the roads of Crown Point without knowing what had happened beneath their feet. They inherited their ancestors’ homes, their family names, and their histories without realizing that they had inherited something else as well.
A curse.
Most never noticed it. Others felt its presence without understanding what it meant. And a few would eventually discover the truth when it was already too late.
Because the Tree of Death was still alive.
And Lavidia’s vengeance had never been satisfied.
The Moving Tree
The Tree of Death does not remain in one place forever.
It moves.
Sometimes it vanishes after a single year, leaving behind nothing but dying vegetation, abandoned homes, and stories that no one believes. Other times, it remains rooted in one location for fifty years, a century, or even longer.
No one knows what determines its movements.
It may disappear into the wilderness, only to emerge beneath the foundations of an abandoned building. It may take root near a quiet country road, in the middle of an old cemetery, or deep within a forest where no living person dares to wander.
Wherever it settles, misfortune follows.
Disease spreads. Animals become restless. People vanish. The minds of the living begin to fracture, and the boundaries between reality and nightmare grow dangerously thin.
Those who are kind, innocent, or simply unfortunate enough to cross its path may find themselves facing horrors they cannot explain. Others are drawn toward its darkness, seduced by promises of power, revenge, or eternal life.
But the tree does not merely bring death.
It changes the rules of existence.
Under its influence, time becomes unstable. The past can bleed into the present. The future can reach backward to claim what belongs to it. Places that should be separated by centuries can exist side by side, and creatures that should never occupy the same moment can walk the same stretch of earth.
The Tree of Death does not recognize the natural order.
And neither do the monsters born from its power.
The Creatures of the Cursed Haunt Trail
From Lavidia’s vengeance and the corrupted power of the Tree of Death came a collection of beings that would become known as Lavidia’s Family.
They are not ordinary ghosts, nor are they simply monsters lurking in the darkness. Each has a history, a purpose, and a connection to the curse that binds the region together.
Among them are:
**Malice. Rex. Kain. Boy. Wither. Cleavis. Cackles. Mr. Happy. Fido. The Wither. Spider Queen. **
Their names would become synonymous with fear.
Some were once human. Some were shaped by the tree itself. Others may have come from places beyond the reach of human understanding. Their origins differ, but they share one terrible connection: the power of the Tree of Death has marked them all.
And its power allows them to cross the boundaries of time and space.
Some creatures belong to the past, carrying the horrors of forgotten centuries into the modern world. Others exist in the present, stalking the trails and abandoned places where the curse remains strongest. And some come from the future, bringing with them nightmares that have not yet happened.
A visitor walking the trail might encounter a figure dressed in clothing from a century long gone. Another might see something that appears human until it begins moving in ways no living body should. Someone else might encounter a creature that knows their name, recognizes their face, and speaks of events that have not yet occurred.
The trail does not promise that every encounter will happen in the same order.
One person may enter the woods and emerge moments later, believing they have experienced nothing unusual. Another may return hours later, having aged decades. Some may never return at all.
And those who do return may bring something back with them.
A memory that does not belong to them.
A voice that speaks when they are alone.
A shadow that moves when they do not.
Or the unmistakable feeling that something has followed them home.
The creatures of the Cursed Haunt Trail are not bound by the laws that govern the living. They can appear and disappear without warning, cross into different eras, and manipulate the fragile connection between what was, what is, and what will be.
But even they are not entirely free.
Every creature is connected to the tree. Every act of darkness strengthens the curse. And somewhere beneath the twisted roots, the ancient evil continues to grow.
For as long as the Tree of Death exists, the horrors of the trail will endure.
And as long as Lavidia’s curse remains unbroken, no generation will ever be truly safe.
Welcome to the Cursed Haunt Trail.
Where the past is never dead.
Where the future is never certain.
And where the things waiting in the darkness may have been watching you long before you ever arrived.
Boy
Cleavis
Cleavis A small, malnourished infant was abandoned in the woods near the cabin of Rex and Boy.
They quickly took the child, elated by the idea of young, tender meat for their stew. They had hoped to fatten up the child, but it bit and clawed at its captors hands. Frustrated, Rex named the baby after his trusty cleaver, finding it easier to raise the child as family instead of food.
His size made him no match for the experienced butchers, leaving him to fight for scraps against rats and stray dogs. Marrow and cartilage were often his only meals. After having his prey stolen for the last time he decided that if he was too small to protect his prize, he would lift it far up into the trees where only he could climb.
Now grown, Cleavis pulls victims into the trees where they are hung, bled, and dried for storage. He finds enjoyment in toying with his food, often throwing stones or smacking trees to mislead and disorient victims. His love of the canopy and bloody frenzy feeds the tree of death with every kill.
On nights where the air is still, the shaking of trees and violent laughter warn all those who dare enter the trail.
Kain
Kain was once a happy boy, his laughter echoing through the streets of Crown Point, a small town where he lived peacefully with his parents and the townspeople.
Life was simple, and the future seemed bright. But everything changed when Kain was 14.
The townspeople, gripped by fear and prejudice, expelled the gypsies, forcing them to leave their homes and wander as outcasts. Around that same dark time, a cruel disease took hold of Kain’s parents. They fell ill and passed away, leaving him alone in a world that had suddenly turned cold and unforgiving. The townspeople, quick to assign blame, accused Kain of bringing misfortune upon them, and he was exiled. With nothing but his own will to guide him, Kain wandered into the dense forests surrounding Crown Point, moving farther and farther from the only home he had known. Winter arrived with a brutal chill, and the harsh cold gnawed at his spirit. Madness crept in as he tried to end his suffering, striking his own head again and again, but death would not come.
One freezing evening, broken and near death from hunger and exhaustion, Kain collapsed beneath the skeletal branches.
Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.
Lavidia, the head of the gypsies, stood over him, her eyes cold and unyielding. “You’re dying,” she said flatly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Get up.” In that moment, Kain’s fate shifted, caught between despair and the faint spark of something new—something that might yet pull him back from the edge.
Glenn Wood
Glenn Wood
Sentient Ventriloquist Dummy
Age unknown
Motive TLDR: He scares for the love of the game
Started as a famous dummy belonging to a well known ventriloquist. She became less and less relevant as time went on. She felt useless and wasn't making much money anymore because people found Glenn unsettling after a while.
He kept shouting violent and morbid things.
He moved too unnaturally.
Everyone thought it was his ventriloquist, but they were wrong. His ventriloquist was beginning to lose her mind after becoming more hated and began hearing Glenn's voice... without her. He was alive.
She grew deeply insane and more disturbed over time and threw Glenn away out of fear. He didn't like that. He dealt with her fairly in his eyes.
Nobody even remembers her name.
Glenn started to change when he became less relevant, too. He used to enjoy the laughter, but when it died down...he learned the only thing that was meant to die was an unappreciative audience. He soon discovered he found much greater fun in tormenting people than helping them. The screams were his favorite.
They were even better than laughs. Glenn tends to be rude back to rude people and finds nearly everything hilarious as if it were a performance. He will occasionally be sympathetic to those who are afraid, but it won't last long, as he gets bored and impatient easily, and he enjoys tricking people into scares.
He's much tamer towards children, however. Those were always his favorite audiences-- they were always the nicest and most excited.
Cackles
Charlie was just a boy. An ordinary boy who wanted ordinary things.
But ordinary was something his mother never allowed him to be.
His mother was a clown, and from the moment Charlie was old enough to walk, she dragged him into her world of painted smiles, oversized shoes, and forced laughter. While other children spent their weekends playing games, riding bikes, and attending birthday parties with their friends, Charlie spent his days performing beneath colorful tents and in strangers’ backyards, entertaining children who saw him as nothing more than a sideshow attraction.
He never got to attend his own birthday parties.
He never got to go to his friends’ parties, either.
Instead, he stood beside his mother, wearing a painted smile and a ridiculous costume, watching other children blow out candles, tear open presents, and laugh with their families. Every birthday was another reminder of the childhood he would never have.He grew to resent the laughter.He grew to hate the balloons, the confetti, and the cheerful birthday songs that followed him everywhere.Most of all, he hated the face he saw in the mirror: a little boy hidden beneath layers of white paint, red cheeks, and a painted grin that never seemed to fade.His name was Charlie. But his mother called him Cackles.She thought it was cute. Charlie thought it was a curse.
Despite everything, he had one friend. Just one. One person who occasionally made him feel like a normal kid, someone who saw Charlie instead of the clown his mother insisted he be.
And then came his thirteenth birthday.
For the first time in his life, Charlie wanted something for himself. Nothing extravagant. No expensive presents, no elaborate decorations. Just a small birthday party with a few friends, a cake, and the chance to feel like a normal thirteen-year-old boy. He begged his mother. He pleaded with her. For once, could she put him first? Her answer was no.
There was another birthday party that day, and they were already booked. There were children to entertain, money to earn, and a performance to give. His birthday could wait.
It always could. Something inside Charlie finally broke.That was the day Cackles was born.
And Charlie, the little boy who had spent thirteen years swallowing his sadness, began to disappear. The night before his birthday, Charlie had a dream. Most people would have called it a nightmare.
He found himself standing in a dark forest, surrounded by twisted branches and towering trees whose limbs stretched across the sky like skeletal fingers. There was no moon, no wind, and no sound of life. Only an unnatural silence that seemed to press against his ears.
Yet somewhere deep within the woods, a voice called to him.A woman’s voice.Soft. Gentle. Loving. It was the first voice in a long time that didn’t demand anything from him. Charlie followed it.
The deeper he ventured into the forest, the darker the trees became. Their trunks were blackened, their roots knotted together like veins beneath the earth. At the heart of the woods stood an enormous tree, ancient and crooked, its branches reaching toward the heavens as though begging to escape the ground that held it captive.
Beneath it stood a woman.
Charlie couldn’t make out her face, but he could feel her watching him.
Her name was Lavidia.
She promised him everything he’d ever wanted.
A new life. A real family. Friends who would never abandon him. A mother who would love him unconditionally. No more costumes. No more performances. No more pretending to be happy for the amusement of others.
“You’ve suffered for so long, my child,” she whispered. “You’ve given them your laughter, your time, your childhood. And what have they given you in return?”
Charlie said nothing.“They’ve taken everything from you.” For the first time, someone seemed to understand.
Lavidia extended her hand. “Come with me, Charlie. Let me give you the life you deserve.” He stared at her outstretched fingers.“There’s just one thing you must do,” she continued Her voice grew quieter.
“Let go of the mother you have. You have a new mother now.” Charlie hesitated. Then Lavidia leaned closer, and the shadows around her began to move “Get rid of her.”
He woke before he could answer.
Morning sunlight crept through his bedroom curtains. Somewhere downstairs, his mother was preparing for another day of performances, humming a cheerful tune as though nothing in the world could ever be wrong.
Charlie sat motionless in his bed. He could still hear Lavidia’s voice. He could still feel the warmth of her hand. And he could still remember her promise. That morning, Charlie turned thirteen. By the end of the day, he would never be a child again.
His mother had refused him once more. There was a party to attend, a crowd to entertain, and money to be made. She had already laid out his costume for the afternoon, complete with oversized shoes and a bright red wig.
She told him to hurry. She told him to smile.She called him Cackles. Something inside Charlie went silent. What happened next would forever stain his thirteenth birthday.
Charlie murdered his mother.
When it was over, he prepared a grotesque birthday display from the remains of the woman who had spent his entire childhood treating him like a prop in her own performance. He arranged the severed head on a plate, decorating it like a macabre birthday cake—a sickening parody of the celebration he had been denied for so many years.
Then he sat alone at the table.
No guests.
No presents.
No candles.
Just Charlie, his birthday display, and the silence he’d always wished for. He stared at it for a long time.And then he smiled. Not the painted smile his mother had forced upon him. Not the artificial grin he wore to make other children laugh.
This smile belonged to him. Or at least, that’s what he believed. Because somewhere deep within the forest, beneath the branches of the ancient black tree, Lavidia was smiling, too. She had kept her promise. Charlie would have a new mother. He would have a new family. He would never have to be alone again. But Lavidia had neglected to tell him one very important thing. Love, in her world, always came at a price.
The Wither
Malice
Malice doesn't know anything beyond the circus and has not recollection of a former life. Lavidia owns every part of her and governs everything she does. She is meerly a vessel for evil.
Malice never plays well with others.
Fido
Spider Queen
Eve
Eveline Blackwood was born and raised in Crown Point, Indiana, a quiet girl with a strange connection to the dead.
As a child, she heard whispers in empty rooms, dreamed of people she had never met, and drew the image of a mysterious woman named Lavidia. Her grandmother warned her of an ancient curse placed upon the town by Lavidia, the leader of a dark coven who promised that one day the dead would rise and the living would wish they had joined them. As a teenager, Eveline became obsessed with the old graveyard, unaware that something beneath the earth was calling her home. At nineteen, Eveline disappeared one October night after entering the graveyard.
Her body was found beneath an ancient oak tree, marked by a strange symbol carved into the earth.
The town buried her, believing she was gone forever, but seven nights later, the cemetery gates creaked open, and a voice whispered from beneath her grave: "Wake." Lavidia appeared and resurrected Eveline, transforming her into a skeletal creature draped in the rotting remains of the graveyard. In exchange for her second life, Eveline became Lavidia's servant, bound to fulfill the curse that had haunted Crown Point for generations.
Now Eveline wanders the darkness on a terrifying mission: to collect thirteen souls from the people of Crown Point. She stalks the streets, whispers through windows, and calls out names that only the dead should know.
Anyone who hears her whisper their name has already been chosen.
When all thirteen souls are brought to the graveyard, every grave will open, the dead will rise, and Lavidia will be free to unleash her curse upon the town. But Eveline does not know the final price of her resurrection: the thirteenth soul must be her own, and she will be condemned to the graveyard forever.
Though she serves Lavidia, fragments of Eveline's humanity still linger beneath the bones and darkness. Sometimes she remembers her childhood, her mother's voice, and the life stolen from her too soon. But those memories never last. Lavidia's whispers always return, reminding Eveline of her purpose. And when the fog rolls across Crown Point and a skeletal figure emerges from the shadows, listen carefully.
If Eveline whispers your name, do not run, do not answer, and whatever you do, never follow her into the graveyard.
Aníbal
Aníbal was a humble man in Mexico with a wife and child. He ran a very successful taco businesses in the town of El Rancho which is adjacent to his grandparents town: Cerro del Sabino, State of Mexico, Mexico.
One day he decided to try his luck in the United States.
He left his life and family in Mexico.
However, his business structure did not perform as well nor could he replicate the success he achieved in Mexico. His first restaurant was located in Schaumburg, Illinois. Others popped up, but there locations remain a mystery to this day. With accumulating debt and failure on the horizon due to his low quality meats, out of desperation, he began hunting people and serving them to his customers.
His business overcame the challenges he faced, but his blood lust only grew...
In his youth and up to his adulthood, Aníbal recalled seeing a tree that appeared to follow him. Every time he saw it, death; plague and war followed.He thought nothing of it. On one of his hunts for victims in Gypsy Cemetery by Hebron, In, he encountered a voice calling to him.
A seductive voice asking him to kill for her.
A beautiful woman hypnotized Aníbal and took him to THE CURSED TRAIL.
Now possessed and with no control of his mind or body, Aníbal begins a new hunt with even more bloodshed than ever before.
