🐺 The Marked Chronicles: The Rougarou’s Due

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📖 The Storyteller’s Library
The library smelled of dust, ash, and something older—wet and slow, like the breathing of a swamp at midnight. Tonight, that musty familiarity was pierced by another scent: thick, humid air mingled with the faint sweetness of swamp jasmine.  

The Storyteller’s hand drifted across the shelves until one book resisted—a damp tome bound in scaled leather, its surface slick with mucous-like residue that clung to his fingers, refusing to let go.  

He opened it. The pages sighed, releasing the heavy, hot breath of the Louisiana Bayou. And then, a name surfaced in the heat: Lena Delacroix. Tucked inside was a small, handwritten prayer pleading for forgiveness during Lent—a whisper from the past, desperate to be heard.  

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🎙️ Intro Monologue (The Nightly Storyteller)

> “We all carry a weight—the lies, the debts, the sins we bury. In the Bayou, that weight becomes a curse. They call it the Rougarou. Some say it’s born of the flesh. I say it’s born of the sins we ignore.  
> Tonight, you’ll meet Lena Delacroix. Her grandmother warned her: ‘The mark collects the debt, but the Delacroix pays the cost.’ She inherited the weight of her neighbors’ sins… and the punishment that comes with them. Tonight, she pays.”  

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🌕 Main Story — The Curse of the Blood

Lena Delacroix never knew silence. The crescent wolf’s-paw mark on her spine had throbbed since childhood, a constant, aching tether to a legacy of unpaid spiritual debts. The Mark gave her a terrible gift: the ability to smell sin—a coppery, ozone-laden stench that clung to the guilty like a second skin.  

Her grandmother whispered the history in hushed Cajun French: centuries ago, a Delacroix ancestor broke the Lenten fast, dooming their line to carry the Rougarou’s duty—enforcing divine justice on those whose guilt was too heavy to hide.  

In the small, tight-lipped community near the swamp, Lena lived enveloped in moral decay. And now, the Mark demanded its toll.  

The stench hit her before she saw the shack: Victor LeBlanc’s place, sagging and leaning toward collapse. Victor, with his pious smile and quick laugh, carried overdue sins like a debt collector’s ledger. As she approached, the air thickened, suffocating. Salt, copper, and the rotting hint of something long dead twisted into her lungs.  

Her spine burned—a liquid, gnawing heat that blurred agony and instinct. She stumbled into the humid night, desperate, but the Mark was relentless.  

Victor was on his porch, grinning. “Lena, cher. What brings you—”  

The words died in his throat as the transformation seized her. Her bones cracked, each sound sharp as snapping branches. Flesh tightened into coarse hide. Hands warped into claws that tore at the air. Her jaw split, teeth lengthening into knives. Her thoughts fractured, words dissolving into snarls she could no longer control.  

This was not freedom. It was punishment—her suffering for the sins of another.  

Victor recoiled, but recognition never came. Only the smell of his guilt—the unclean, the unforgiven—hit the creature’s nose. The Rougarou inhaled deep, savoring the debt it had been summoned to collect. And then, with swift, terrifying justice, it delivered the due.  

The moon broke through the clouds, casting pale light over the shack. Lena lay in the muddy reeds, the paw mark cooling, her body mostly intact, her gums aching, the swamp silent. The scent of unpunished sin lingered faintly. The duty would not end here.  

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🎙️ Outro Monologue (The Nightly Storyteller)

> “The Rougarou is no random monster—it’s a tax collector of the soul. Lena paid the price, and now she walks knowing the beast only sleeps, waiting for the next unforgiven debt.  
> That curse—ancestral judgment—is heavier than any coin, heavier than any mortal sin.  
> So tell me: what weight do you hide? What sin sits heaviest on your heart?  
> Because if Lena Delacroix passes through your town, she won’t look for gold… she’ll be sniffing for you.”  

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🔍 Object Recovered (Bayou Parish Sheriff’s Log)

Case File: BP-447 — Apparent Alligator Attack  
Location: LeBlanc fishing shack, near Cyprière Bayou  
Victim: Victor LeBlanc (Missing/Presumed Deceased)  

Evidence Recovered:  
- One small, crescent-shaped bone, snapped cleanly (possibly a tooth).  
- Large, unexplained canine tracks leading into the swamp, drying strangely quickly.  
- Shack smelled of sulfur and ozone despite no fire.  

Sheriff’s Note: Found young woman (L.D.) nearby, unconscious. Refused medical treatment. Pulse unusually slow, body temperature low despite heat. Noted strange birthmark on back. While writing this report, I smelled sulfur. My pen shook. I will not revisit the Delacroix case.  

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And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me the unforgiven sin that sits heaviest on your heart.  
We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.  
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