Panlido’s Cursed Bed

The legends state that Panlido was an itinerant trader, today would be known as a gypsy, who travelled with his extensive family.  One day, when it was expected he was off on a bargaining day trip to a neighboring town, he instead was spurred by his companions as unwanted; they did not think he had the skills for whatever negotiation lay ahead.  Disappointed, he went back to his wagon only to discover his mother sleeping with his wife. As much stunned as disgusted, he did the only rational thing: killed them both in cold blood where the lay, with a hatchet no less.

The blood seeped into the mattress and bed frame, and in general made quite a mess of things.  He then made a hasty attempt to bury the bodies, but was caught red-handed tossing his mother’s bloody body into a too shallow grave.  Arrested, and soon brought to the rapid and rather clear-cut trader justice,(who turned a deaf ear about the story of his wife and mother; even if it was common knowledge to many) was sentenced to be dragged behind a wagon until dead.

This was perhaps proper and effective justice, but the drawn out nature of it did leave many witnesses to Panlido’s death screams, of which one was heard many times “anyone who touches that bed will never sleep again!”

The curse wasn’t thought much of until the poor guys who cleaned out the wagon (and moved the bed) discovered they could not sleep.  A couple of sleepless weeks later they died of exhaustion. The fun doesn’t end there however, as the bed had to be moved again, and it was unloaded at the nearest town by a couple of local hired hands, an inn needed a bed and even paid top dollar; it was put to immediate use.    It started claiming victims shortly thereafter… The trader caravan had moved on, and thoughtfully didn’t say a word of the issues with the bed.

Panlido’s bed had claimed 23 lives including the innkeeper before the inn was shuttered by the local constableatory.  For months no one dared enter the inn, as no one understood the cause. Word was dispatched to the capital, where for some time they sent various delegations of increasing importance until the vizier himself showed up, tired of so many of his people dying.  A clever man, with tons of magical resource at his command, determined it was the bed.

For the next 3 centuries the bed was used by various people in power to secretly or ‘accidentally’ execute noteables.  Often a false diagnosis of a wasting disease was given to cover up the secret. For a time is stood in a prison cell where select inmates would be allowed to sleep their last day of incarceration; a parting gift to the king’s justice.  Sure, they were free to go.

That lasted to the next war, where the castle( and Kingdom for that matter) was lost.  Rumor has it that the bed is still being put to use by various people in power, but largely the truth of its whereabouts is either a guarded secret, or unknown.