And if sometime, somewhere, someone asketh thee, "Who kilt thee?", tell them it 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy!

DULVERTON, SOMERSET – In a chilling turn of events that has reignited whispers of a centuries-old feud, authorities are investigating a brutal homicide near the wild moorlands of Exmoor after the body of a local man was discovered late Tuesday evening, bearing a fatal wound to the chest. The case has taken a macabre theatrical turn, however, due to a cryptic phrase reportedly uttered by the victim with his final breaths, invoking the spectral menace of a clan long embedded in regional folklore: the Doones of Bagworthy.

According to witnesses at the Owl’s Head Inn, where the victim — identified as Elias Thorne, a 47-year-old yeoman farmer from nearby Oare — stumbled through the door shortly before collapsing, Thorne clutched a bloodied hand to his breast and whispered hoarsely to the gathered patrons: "And if sometime, somewhere, someone asketh thee, 'Who kilt thee?' — tell them it 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy!" The utterance, archaic in diction and dripping with eerie bravado, sent shivers through the room before Thorne succumbed to his injuries.

Local constables, initially dismissing the declaration as delirium, soon faced mounting pressure from a terrified populace. For the Doones of Bagworthy are no ordinary suspects. They are the infamous outlaw family immortalized in R.D. Blackmore’s 1869 novel Lorna Doone, a gritty romantic saga set against the rugged backdrop of 17th-century Exmoor. In Blackmore’s tale, the Doones rule their remote valley stronghold through terror, raiding villages and murdering with impunity. While historically debated, the legend persists, fueled by generations of fireside tales and the region’s fog-shrouded valleys.

"Superstition has always clung to these moors like mist,” explained Dr. Eleanor Vickers, a historian at Taunton College specializing in West Country folklore. “The Doones straddle a blurred line between fiction and oral history. Some argue they were inspired by real clans like the de Wichehalses, notorious brigands of the late Middle Ages. Others insist Blackmore conjured them whole cloth. Yet to this day, disappearances or strange deaths in the hollows near Bagworthy inevitably resurrect talk of the ‘Doone Curse.’”

The timing of Thorne’s slaying has amplified unease. Just last month, amateur historians uncovered a cache of rusted weaponry and bone fragments near Badgworthy Water — the fictional heart of Doone territory — reigniting public fascination. Then came reports of nighttime disturbances: flickering lanterns glimpsed in desolate gorse patches, the disembodied laughter of a woman said to resemble Blackmore’s tragic heroine, Lorna.

Acting Chief Inspector Marcus Hale urges caution. “This is a modern murder investigation, not a ghost hunt,” he stated tersely at a press briefing. “However, Mr. Thorne’s last words demand scrutiny. We are exploring all angles, including whether his death connects to recent disputes over land rights or smuggler-era artifacts reportedly surfacing in the black market.”

Indeed, Thorne was no stranger to controversy. His farm bordered several contested archaeological sites, and he’d publicly quarreled with developers aiming to survey the Doone Valley for a proposed heritage trail. “He knew those moors like his own heartbeat,” claimed his sister, Agnes Poole. “But lately, he’d grown fearful. Said he’d stirred up old shadows there. That they’d ‘come collecting.’”

Parallels to Lorna Doone are striking: the novel’s protagonist, John Ridd, loses his father to Doone violence and seeks vengeance — a narrative now uncomfortably mirrored in reality. While Inspector Hale denies receiving any “antediluvian calling cards,” he confirms the phrase “Doones of Bagworthy” was carved into an oak near Thorne’s body.

As drizzle blankets Exmoor, fear festers. Shopkeepers in Lynton shutter early. Hikers avoid the moors. And in the dimly lit corner of the Owl’s Head Inn, patrons now murmur a refrain once confined to leather-bound novels: “Curst be the Doones of Bagworthy… and all that bear the name.” Whether a killer’s taunt, a madman’s epitaph, or a grim revival of legend, Thorne’s cryptic accusation has already ensured one truth — the Doones, real or imagined, have claimed another victim.