[MajorMimosa]

It was a cool Autumn afternoon in a cozy corner of the country, nested within the embrace of dozens upon dozens of acres of forest. The land itself, originally purchased by an unknown benifactor whom wanted to save it from deforestation, was sold to a young woman who wanted to turn the area into a haven for the young and adventurous. After a handful of summers into opening it's doors, Camp Whipwood was fully on the map! Of course the founder went slightly back on her word in the form of clearing out certain sections of the forest to make room for amenities, but who could blame her! With the happiness being brought by their archery range, the rock climbing wall in the center of the camp, the speedboat rides, and telling ghost stories at the firepit, how could that cranky old benifactor really be offended?

The ghost stories, however, began getting a bit oddly specific in regards to how the camp got its name. No councelor is certain who even told it first, but all of them begin their first night with the campers by telling them the story of the Curse of Camp Whipwood. If it was a few years ago or last night is hard to say, but on a full moon night a handful of campers decided to leave their cabins and venture to the fire pit alone. When they lit it, the fire went out of control; scorching a section of the land and trapping the young fools within the flames. A foul demon burst free from the firewood on a sled of hellhounds and chased the campers through the night. And every so often, when the moon is full and you're all alone, you might just hear the crack of the demon's whip. And the howl of the unfortunate campers who did not keep their word...

But then again. It's just a story.