Nothing was ever the same once the hole appeared. Before, mothers could let their children out of their sight, farmers could peacefully tend their crop, and one could take a night time stroll without fear of what may lay just beyond the veil of darkness. But in the events following the appearance of what many came to call “The Hole” or “The Eternal Abyss of Terror,” the people of Hattlandia surrendered to a life of enslavement. Not an enslavement of the literal kind, although that did exist, but an enslavement of their souls, slaves to fear of death, fear of one another, fear of life itself.
Before its emergence, what would become “The Hole” was actually a hill located adjacent a farmstead approximately 75 miles northeast of the capital Topapolis. The community surrounding the farmstead was known for it's fabulous ale production, a bit of a staple for the farming village of Bowler. Merchants would often stop in town and purchase ale from the local brewers by the wagon-load, hauling from inland Bowler so far as East Hattlandia and the trade hub of New Ravnice. Tavern owners across the land would often request “Bowler Ale” from any traveling merchants when they happened to come by.
Bowler's modest success was a source of pride among the village people, although it was worn with a sense of decency. The newly found income slithered its way into their pockets, and many large, expensive manors began to crop up along the countryside. Many of the local brewers, having trouble keeping up with the large demand for Bowler Ale, got together and drew plans to build a large brewery next to a nearby farmstead along the southern edge of Bowler.
The Bowler Brewery stood atop the finest hill in all of Bowler, or so the local farmers snorted upon its completion. It was an extravagant structure to say the least, supported by many oaken pillars along the outside frame. Oaken pillars were so overused, in fact, that many of them served no actual purpose other than expensive decoration. The brewery was fit with many large stills and 3 even larger vats, with a basement stocked to the brim with barrels not yet filled with their ale. After it was built, the brewery could be seen from the moment you stepped foot into Bowler. Like a majestic monolith perched upon the hill, spewing fumes into the air, and coin into the pockets of Bowler.
There had been one matter of concern when the work initially began on the Bowler Brewery. Before the foundations had been set, a large boulder had lain in the center of where the building would be erected. When ordered, the local construction workers refused to move the boulder, superstitious of the indecipherable carvings that were etched into the side of it. Laborers from outlying villages had to be acquired to move the stone, delaying the project for a few weeks. Historians would later argue whether or not the moving of the stone was indeed the trigger for the events that followed, however they were all in agreement that such events were incomprehensibly horrifying.
Witness accounts for the night approximately three weeks after the Bowler Brewery opened are sparse, yet vary. Some recalled a heavy weight in the air, as if the darkness was physically weighing down on them. Others simply remembered an average night, unlike any other until the fire started. The fire began by unknown means, but originated in the basement of the Bowler Brewery. Many of the locals, after seeing the fire, ran with buckets towards the hill in order to save their livelihood. Few stayed back, wary of fire and alcohol being in such a close acquaintance. Among those few are the even fewer survivors who provided these witness accounts.
It isn't positive if the explosion caused it to happen, or that what happened caused the explosion. It is told that as the Bowler Brewery exploded, the hill on which it stood collapsed. The hill, the brewery, the fire, and all the people desperately trying to save their livelihood seemed to have fallen into the earth itself, disappearing forever. Darkness settled over the void where the Bowler Brewery once stood aflame, and all was quiet. For a time, at least.
