Mhargosis heard the soft click of the lock on the iron box. “I got it open!” he yelled to his fellow party members. He threw open the lid and observed the finery inside. 150….250….500 gold pieces! But another bundle was within, tied with…“Chains and a padlock?” Mhargosis said to himself. “Who would tie a package with chains and a padlock? Oh well, yet another picking.” He manipulated the lock with ease. Another click. Within, a silvery-white fur pelt, folded into a small square, sleek and soft. He removed the pelt. It was a fur cloak, complete with head. It may have been a silver fox once, though an unusually large silver fox. He slipped it over his shoulders with a swish. It was beautiful. Soft. Wait? What was that whispering? He listened. “First…I nibbled on his earlobe. Then, I bit into it….” Mhargosis tore the cloak from his back. What in Ye Gods? He put the fox-head of the cloak up to his ear, mindful that the teeth were still attached. “...letting the red, red blood flow down his neck. Ah, Mhargosis, how red and succulent it was! Hear this now, new master Mhargosis, I tore the flesh from his hand and the muscle too, oh yes!” Mhargosis looked in horror upon the cloak, staring into the toothy fox face. Had it had eyes before? Snarl, snap. The spray of blood. Mhargosis’s party members found him later, partially devoured, with the bloody silver fox-skin cloak lying over him like a blanket.

Magical Properties:

The Hellcoat, when worn, speaks into the wearer’s ear the tales of how it has devoured it’s previous wearers. If the wearer dallies too long with the cloak, it will devour him/her too, and save the story for the next wearer. Often, the cloak will travel with and be worn by the wearer for months or even years without devouring them so that it can go to new locations, and thus, new food.

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