Birch Hill Well
Birch Hill is named for the trees which totally cover it. The old well sits at the head of the hill, and is made of white stone. Two lovers were thrown down here by a jealous spouse and the mob she’d whipped up. Ever since then, the ghosts of the pair lurk about the place, this lonely moonlit haunt. They offer help to anyone in matters of the heart or forbidden things. Into the well, cast a token of sincere love, or a poem of the same - between now and the next new moon, you shall contract the help of the two ghosts, who will act to solve your conundra (by any means necessary). The Goldsmith, the first ghost, is delicate, persuasive, empathic and wise, and appears alive unless under direct sunlight. The second, the Farmhand, did a stint in hell, reeks of brimstone, has iron fingers, and is terribly strong.
Sewn Street Well
The magistrates tried to have the well covered over, but ever and anon do citizens with beaked tools and agendas come to uncover her. Here sleeps the spirit of the spring ‘round which the city was founded. In her mineralled waters lie a fond love of the local people, which does not extend to their high-hatted rulers in the equestrian class. Ask for sweet water, purification, or to sense a lie. To call her, shed into the well a drop of blood, a tear, or a lock of hair, drawn from a local scion. But know this - despite all her wisdom, the old spirit is blind, and cannot tell if such a thing is willingly given.
Wormbore Well
Left behind by the passage of a giant worm. Hypnotic secretions leak into the water from the worm’s nest, bored into the soil far below. Wishing here will have little effect, though the doped-up, dazed-out people living in the town that’s sprung about it will insist otherwise fervently.
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