Coventry Township (CVcU)

North Coventry Township (Population 200)

Coventry

In the early 17th Century settlers that'd been bound for Virginia ended landing in Province town Harbor in Massachusetts, Historically this became known as the Mayflower Compact; however a small group of "Non-Puritan" peoples protest that since they had not made landfall in Virginia they were not bound by any laws, nor would they sign the Mayflower Compact.

Because of this, the Puritans exiled them from the ships and these "Non-Puritans" established their own community with the assistance of the Native Americans called Coventry.

It's believed the town was named for two reasons; many of the pilgrims came from a place in England called Coventry and wanted some connection back to home.

Others believe it was called "Coventry" because of the "Court of Witches" that were said to have booked passage to avoid persecution in England. The Township of Coventry exist as a "free" territory as it was in lands owned by the Native Americans, however in 1692 Coventry became affiliated with the English Crown because of the wide-spread fears of Witchcraft.

The Coventry Witch Trials.

In 1692, people in Salem begin a widespread panic of Witchcraft prompting many of the authentic witches to flee Salem for Coventry in search of Asylum. Because of the different 'Coven' exist within the same community they often came in conflict with one another. The dispute came about because of the fundamental differences, The Coventry Witches were Wicca, however the Salem Witches were Satanic in nature. Initially the believed they could find some sort of middle ground but in-fighting showed they couldn't.

The Coventry Witches, believed in order to preserve their kind, that women should have a vote in the overall proceedings of events; the Salem Witches did not want this, they wanted a "High Priest" to make decisions for them, and because of it a High Priest should make decisions for both groups.

The Salem Witches crafted a Hex on the mortals of Coventry, allowing them to see the magics of the Coven Witches; this cause the mortals to begin lashing out in fear. The Mortals of Coventry begin to raid and kill the Coventry Witches sometimes without trial, the final remaining Coventry Witches sought to protect their families by sealing their magic away, so that they'd be protected from humans and Witch-Hunters. This act would preserve their culture for years to come. The Salem Sect believed they'd finally won there long standing rivalry with their Wiccan enemies; however the hex was so strong Salem eventually fell pray to mortal paranoia too.

Killborn Cemetery/North Coventry Woods

The Killborn Cemetery is one of the landmarks in Northern Coventry, it's positioned in the middle of the North Coventry Woods. Today it's become an attraction because there is absolutely no noise at the Cemetery, it's become a weird phenomenon that many spend years trying to decipher; but no noise occurs on the Killborn grounds, which is opposite for the North Coventry Woods. It's interesting to note this cemetery is supposedly home to both Coven and Salem Witches, which many believe is the reason for the extreme silence.

At night the North Coventry Woods goes through a supernatural change that prevent anyone from traveling. The North Coventry Woods become so cold at night most of the animals that live there often free without shelter. Anyone that tries to navigate the Woods at night time will wind-up lost until the sun rises. It is said that the trees howl when the wind blows on them at night. It is believed that these are the souls of not only witches but all the damned meshed into one forest. It is believed there is a Shrine at the back of the Coventry Woods, but no one has ever step foot on these sacred grounds, and is the gateway to the "House of one Hundred Horrors"

South Coventry Township (Population 6,366)

S.Coventry and North Coventry share the same history, but the split was officially acknowledged in 1992. The town is divided into two parts. The South side, the more progressive town, and the North side, where mostly poor and people who work in the tourist locations on the North are. The Southside appears to be more livable and prosperous, and there are more things to do in Southern Coventry.

Aside from North Coventry, South Coventry is also known for their freshwater lake, Lake Kitanitowit which draws out many water sports enthusiasts throughout the year. South Coventry also has many shops, while there are a couple big chain retail stores and restaurants, it’s the small mom and pop shops that are popular among tourists and are normally used by the everyday citizens of Coventry.

There are few festivals that happen throughout the year in South Coventry. “Big Blue Festival” put out by local Blueberry family farm owner The Reeds. Blueberry pie contest, blueberry jam making contests and blueberry pie eating contest are put out during this festival that lasts for a week. “Bass with The Bass” is put out by local fishing equipment store owners and organized by Mr. Creed Bass for two weeks in July and of course the "The Parade of The Witches Circle" which is done in remembrance of witches who were wrongly killed during the Witch Trials of 1692 put on by the town mayor.

Lake Kitanitowit

Just outside of the Town is Lake Kitanitowit ( the Great Spirit), a freshwater lake that is 68 square miles making it the largest lake in Massachusetts. Lake Kitanitowit is a popular spot for water sports enthusiasts. Fishing, swimming, sailing, windsurfing, boating and such are all popular activities primarily in the summer. There are several boat launch ramps around the lake that are open to the public. Individuals may rent boats and personal watercraft from many businesses around the lake.

Different fish such as bass, rainbow trout, catfish and such can be found in the lake. Fishing boats can be rented and many stores and facilities around the lake specialize in fishing equipment.

The Wicca Coven

Although pronounced differently, the Modern English term "Wicca" is derived from the Old English. By adopting it for modern usage, Wiccans were both symbolically cementing their connection to the ancient, pre-Christian past, and adopting a self-designation that would be less controversial than "Witchcraft"

The Coventry Wicca community practiced magic in tune with these ideals, claiming that their power came from the forge they developed with nature and the horned/Mother Goddess. There teachings were to use magic to enhance the quality of life, an the exact opposite of their Salem Witch Counterparts.

Salem Witch Coven

The Salem Witch Coven practiced teachings that were in line with Satanism, and the overall goal was the enhance the quality of life for the Coven forsaking mortals and other witches a like. Unlike the Wicca Coven, the Salem Witch Coven are partnered with demons and have two specific books. "The Book of Beast" and "The Book of Souls".

The Salem Witch Coven practiced Witch Sabbaticals and Black Mass, their final Mass called them together to craft the hex that would eventually be the cause of the Coventry and Salem Witch Trials.

Demons:

Demons are dark, supernatural creatures with inhuman powers that are found in many faiths throughout the time of man. While some more powerful demons are able to have some sort of human appearance (with use of shapeshifting or magical help) there are many different species and appearances of demons. Opposite of Angles, it is said that Demons are the messengers of the Devil, who they usually refer to as “Our Dark Lord” or “The Morning Star” and the most powerful demons who are close to the Devil dare to call him by his name, Lucifer. However, there are also lower demons who are too weak to fend for themselves and will aline themselves to anyone who will help protect them. There are different tiers of powers when it comes to demons, but there are three basic ones.

Upper Level/Fallen Angels

These are known to be the eldest and highest ranking demons known to the Underworld. They are respected and fear by other lower demonic classes. Their origins usually (though not always) are said to be Angels who have rebelled against God in Heaven with Lucifer and were banished to Hell with him.

While they can appear as beautiful and flawless human to mortals, to Warlocks and Witches with the trained eye, the appearance of Fallen Ones can be reflected from their inner evil. Without the shroud of their cover, Fallen Ones can tower over humans with their monstrous features such as horns, claws, fangs, and eyes of crimson red. They are able to speak in any mortal language but Enochian seems to be used when spoken among each other.

Their power is greater than that of the most powerful warlocks and witches and is impossible to kill with mortal weapons. Wounds heal almost instantaneous and has been described as “trying to fight the wind with a sword.” There have only been a couple of Warlocks and Witches in history who have been able to hold their own (but not kill) against these demons as it requires many lifetimes of perfecting one's craft to be able to stand up against one and most of the time requires an entire coven (sometimes two) to stop one.

Mid-Level/Half Demons

These demons are created by either Fallen Angels or Warlock/Witches, both intentional and unintentional reasons. Reanimated corpses that have opposed their summoners wishes, ghosts/spirits of those who passed from a tragic death, hex/curses that have never been recalled/broken or Fallen Angels who have mated with mortals and created demonic beings, there is no single origin of these monstrosities. Depending on how much power they have, some are able to make the appearance of being human, although they would have less flawless appearances as The Fallen Ones. They are also immortal but can be killed easier (though not easily) than upper-level demons.

These demons usually work directly under an upper-level demon, although it is not completely uncommon for them to work alone. Depending the certain demon will determine how to banish it back to hell. While warlock and witches are able to kill mid-level/half demons they are not always easily killed. Sometimes only special spells/potions/incantations can kill certain mid-level demons. Senior warlock/witches of the arts should be the ones who take care of mid-levels with an apprentice.

Lesser Demons/Base-Level Demons

These are the lowest and weakest known demons. While they are immortal, they have a small amount of power and sometimes even intelligence. They will sometimes serve Upper and Mid-level demons for protection, but in desperate times, they will even seek protection from warlocks and witches as their Familiar spirits (See Familiars). Usually (though not always) Lesser Demons must possess a human in order to live, feeding off the hosts very soul. Depending on the power of the demon will determine how long the demon can remain in a mortal body before killing it. Usually, these demons are formless and are only visually seen as a type of smoke or even a swarm of insects. However, there are those who have a physical body. These are usually smaller than the normal human size and don't normally appear to be human. Some are able to take form of an animal to be able to manuiver through modern times without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Lesser Demons are the easiest to kill as they are the weakest. While immortal they can usually be killed by not just Warlock and Witches, but Priests and other leaders of faith. These are the best kinds of demons a lower rank warlock/witch should be trained to fight against.

Familiars

One thing that both Warlocks/Witches of Coventry and Salem have in common, is the use of Familiars. A Familiar is a lesser demon who takes shape of an animal so they can better serve their Warlock/Witch masters. Familiars take the role of being a domestic companion, servant, and/or spy for their master. Salem’s Familiars are said to be gifts from The Dark Lord right before they sign the book of darkness while Coventry Familiars said to be demons who have been rejected by the higher level demons for whatever reason. Reasons could be that they disobeyed an order from a higher level demon to being deemed too weak by whatever horde they follow and other are simply unsatisfied with whom they are working under. A mistake that one makes with Familiars is thinking that Familiars are slaves to their Masters. When one takes on the responsibility of being a master to a familiar you to offering protection, housing, food, and companionship in return for a familiars service.

One does not choose their Familiar, but rather the Familiar chooses them. A Master looking for a Familiar must cast a summoning spell to show that they are in need of a Familiar and ready to take on the responsibility of caring for one. It normally takes about 24 hours (or longer) for a Familiar to choose their master. Sometimes it is quicker or longer depending on the potential Masters family reputation among the Familiar community. When a Familiar chooses its Master, an exchange of blood must happen between the Master and Familiar to cement the bond between the two. While the Familiar has their demonic name, it is up to the new Master to choose a Familiar name for their new companion. The binding between a Warlock/Witch and their Familiar is one that lasts for as long as the Master lives as Familiars are immortal. However, when their Master is killed a Familiar will immediately become weaken and in some cases can die several hours or days later.

The abilities that Familiars have depends on what kind of a lesser demon they are. Some are known for speed while others are known for possession. If their Master is in any immediate danger from other demonic and non-demonic entities, the Familiar can shift out of its animal form and attack the one who is attempting to harm their Master, revealing their true form. While these lesser demons are weaker than other higher level demons, they can grow stronger and more powerful under their Master. They can also help with more powerful spells that require the assistance of a demon such as (but not limited to) hexes and curses. It is also said that if a Familiar's Master is killed, a Familiar is able to sacrifice its own immortality and bring their Master back to life. However, if this happens, the Familiar will no longer have the powers it once possesses, and will permanently be the animal it took the form of.

Goblins of North Coventry Woods

Goblins are said to live in the North Coventry Woods at night, along with the spirits of the damned that haven't passed into the afterlife. They are essentially the reason no one can travel through the North Coventry Woods at night. Though many of the Goblins that live here are ACTUAL Goblins, a sizable portion of the Goblin community are actually humans that were cursed by Witches.

The Goblins are small pasty creatures with huge ears, nose and fingers. They are small and ugly and have really bad tempers, and they tend to live for hundreds of years. There is no organized community of Goblins, they don't get along with one another to have a community. Though they have horrible tempers, Goblins are typically weak will creatures and will submit to creatures stronger than them. They usually terrorize humans that enter the North Coventry Woods at night; however they are not permitted to leave the forest due to a hex placed on them by the Coventry Witch Coven years ago. The Goblins are able to use Confusion based magic to confound the enemy however their abilities are said to only work on humans. Despite the lack of solidarity amongst them, they all seemingly believe in the legend of "The Goblin King" but most Witches/Warlocks have dismissed this as folklore.

The Mermaids/Sirens of Lake Kitanitowit

Long before the American Settlers arrived, the Native Americans told stories about "The Lady of the Lake" they were referring to the "Sirens" that are said to live at the bottom of the lake. Once the settlers actually occupied Coventry in hordes, the Sirens typically stopped appearing for fear of capture; however when given the chance they still enthrall small groups of people into the lake to devour them. Sirens have been granted the same right as Mermaids, as they will travel the land during the day hiding their true nature--attempting to lure people to the lake.

Many of the Coventry Witches used to Hex arrogant or promiscuous women to lives as humans, during the day and Mermaids at night. Because most of the Mermaids are actually former humans, they tend to protect real humans from the sirens, who are said to have been created by Demons. The only way Mermaids can return to their humans selves is if a upper level Witch or Warlock undo the curse placed on them.

Humans

A long time ago before recordable time, demons were the spawn of Chaos,while angels were the spawn of Order. Both had an equal talent for magic but in different spheres. Demons had a natural talent for the darker aspects of magic e.g. hexes and curses, basically black magic. While angels had a natural talent for the lighter aspects of magic e.g. healing spells and defensive wards. Against the wills of their masters, the Angels and Demons came together and had offspring. These offspring would be called humans. However, instead of inheriting the natural attributes of angels and demons (Strength, Flight, Speed) humans instead had both angels and demons' aptitude for all sides of magic e.g. dark and light, Granting them the ability to learn Light and Dark Magic. Basically any spell they're skilled enough to learn. Whereas demons can only use darker magic, and angels only lighter magic. However, the knowledge of humans being the secret spawn of angels and demons was lost to time. Eventually the witch-hunters destroyed a ton of books and lore with knowledge of the true human origins. Because of this; and interbreeding amongst the human race humans have lost the knowledge to use magic. The only humans that can learn magic know are those that still have knowledge to the true origins. Humans that use magic are known as "Imperfect Beings" a name given to them by the False Church.

The Pure Blooded Human and Anti-Magic

Witch-Hunters are humans who believe in the blood purity of humans. Basically, that the first generation humans weren't really humans. They were "Imperfect Beings", That only recent generation humans with human parents and grandparents could be pure, as opposed to demon/angel parents are actually human. They believe that early generation humans were tainted, which is why they had a stronger relationship with magic. So the Witch-Hunters use anti-magic and whatever other resource they have to try and destroy magic and any source that reveals the true origins of the human race because they want to preserve the supposed blood purity of recent generation humans. They believe that the practice of magic taints humans with their demon and angel ancestry and therefore kill anyone they feel is returning the human race to impurity. So they use anti-magic not just to fight witches, demons etc. but they use anti-magic as a way to keep magic from "tainting" their bodies.

Anti-Magic

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It is Newtonian, and from it emerges the counterpart to the action of magic; anti-magic. A mysterious and relatively unknown force, anti-magic can be unstable and volatile, likely to do more harm to the mind and body of those who wield it without precaution. And though it promises utility, the risks of improperly harnessing it are a maddened mind and permanent physical paralysis. Still, anti-magic is used as it is made stable and safe through the use of sigils and tattoos that are uniquely sensitive to the properties of anti-magic, enabling them to act as stable receiving and transmitting instruments for anti-magic. Typically, anti-magic practitioners use weapons and objects marked with these sigils as the risk of a weakened mind still lingers, while highly skilled anti-magic practitioners tattoo their own skin with no need for objects to act as physical conduits for anti-magic.

Fundamentally, anti-magic generates neutralizing frequencies that reinforce the "reality" and established state of nature/the world. Specifically, it reinforces the state of nature prior to nature being changed by the force of magic. Anti-magic, therefore does not so much as interrupt a spell as it does reinforce the pre-magic reality and pre-magic natural state of things so that a spell or magical artifact (or magical creature) cannot be used against or harm an anti-magic target such as a witch-hunter with anti-magic tattoos or destroy an anti-magic object e.g. a sword with anti-magic sigils. Anti-magic however, cannot neutralize all magic so simply. It can neutralize the most common and basic spells and severely weaken intermediate magic. But more powerful magic can overcome anti-magic as the higher the level of magic, the less anti-magic is able to neutralize it. High-level magic can only be weakened (not neutralized) by anti-magic if said magic is in the presence of multiple sources of anti-magic e.g. a squad of elite Witch-Hunters with anti-magic tattoos, or if a powerful witch is imprisoned in a jail cell covered in anti-magic sigils.

Furthermore, an anti-magic user must be consciously aware of the presence of magic around them e.g. the presence of a witch, demon etc. because in the event that a witch or magical creature has successfully used stealth to sneak up on an anti-magic user, then the anti-magic will not come into effect as it requires conscious effort and focus on a target or targets. Anti-magic users therefore, are typically skilled at stealth to prevent such a scenario.

Rules

• This is a OPEN RPG/CONCEPT/UNIVERSE for anyone to join.
• This is the CVcU (C for Charmed, but it is still apart of the CVnU Multiverse, so CVNU rules apply.
• Your character's may not know about the existence of the other universes.
• You can be any of the things listed here, or you can enter as something totally different. You will however have to supply a brief overview of what you add.
• Feel free to add a locale
• No main CVnU characters or characters from other mulitverses within and or out of the CVnU wihtout permission
• Mid-Tier Demons, Witches and Warlocks are the only approved character Power-Sets, Upper Tier powersets must
• be ran through @grimmwald, @feral_nova or @shanana
  

Looks badass

This looks awesome. Kinda make's me wanna create a hunter, or a conman that uses anti magic.

I have a feeling that a certain magic user needs to come here some time.

Oh, well hello.

Oh I'm obsessed

Thanks everyone!!

@lisa_killborn@razahn I should have a post up tommorrow.

Oooh, my supernatural instincts are tingling.

Oooo I’m inspired

The Day It All Began

She'd been sick for a couple of years now, her grandma, for 25 years she'd been the only parental figure in Bridget's life. Like any mother-daughter relationship, they clashed, mostly from the mystery that surrounded her grandma's guardianship. Bridget's mother was currently assigned to the Coventry Psyche Ward, she apparently fell mentally ill just a few short days after Bridget was born. Her father? he up and left; no one knows why he didn't leave a note or anything of the sort--just gone. Her father's side of the family lived in Northern Coventry, she saw them maybe once a year, but they were weirdos in the worst way and she typically didn't like meeting them.

So she stood at the casket surrounded by a few of the townsfolk that knew her grandma well as the only representative from either side of her family. Once the casket became completely eclipsed by dirt that's when reality hit her--she was alone. It was kind of sad that no one could speak on behalf of her grandma, not even she. The Killborn Cemetery had a supernatural presence about it, it allowed absolutely no sound, the sound of the wind on the trees, the sound of the dirt hitting the casket, Bridget's sobbing all muted in the presence of the supernatural cemetery. Many dedicated their lives to this phenomenon but none ever actually figured it out.

In her death, her grandma left her the quaint little coffee shop the family owned along with a bunch of other archaic relics, most of them looked really priceless but Bridget couldn't understand the language on most of the artifacts.

Instead of going back to business, as usual, the 25-year-old Bridget Murphy sauntered back to the house on a hill that she and her grandmother lived in. The moment she opened the door she could tell something was...off. For one it was terribly silent, almost suffocating silence. Two the massive book that contained a bunch of weird writings was now downstairs as opposed to its usual location, upstairs in the attic. "What the hell" she whispered before cautiously making her way toward the book.

The book itself was a mystery, her grandma coveted the book, but never actually read it, in fact, if she remembered correctly, there was no one alive that could read it.

The book itself was dirty brown adorned with several stars, a sun, and a moon; but smack dab in the middle was a massive pentagram that suggests some sort of demonic entity--or at least that's what she believed.

It was not uncommon for people to stumble upon relics that belong to the "Church of Witches" as a matter of fact, Coventry was so infamous for its Witch trials in the 17th century that they learned about it in school. Many today had dismissed the Coventry Witch Trials as extreme paranoia, sure many innocent people died in the process but there was never any solid information to support the existence of witches--but what was this? 'I guess I'll put this back upstairs' she thought, grabbing the book her senses immediately overloaded and that's when she saw it. She stood in the middle of the North Coventry Woods flames billowing all around her, soot and ash raining down from the sky. In front of her were women strung from a tree with a noose around their necks...dead.

Throwing the book down before backtracking a couple of steps Bridget frantically wiped her eyes while cursing. That couldn't have been real, her grandmother just died her mind wasn't in the right state--at least that's what she told herself. Taking hold of her keys, she pushed out the front door, it was clear she didn't need to be by herself hopping in her 98' Volkswagen the startled woman set off to the Coventry Psyche Ward.

"How is she?" She asked standing outside her mother's cell with her arms crossed.

"She's been pretty active as of late, we told her her mother died but it didn't seem to phase her, perhaps if talk to her you can get her to calm down. Um...are you ok you seem a bit...distraught" The nurse asked peering into Bridget's eyes with concern.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine just upset about my grandma is all. May I see her?" The nurse stepped aside allowing Bridget in to see her mother.

It was strange seeing her so frantic, usually, she did nothing but sit on her bed mumbling Conner, Bridget didn't know who or what Conner was but her mother seemed to have some sort of connection to it. "Mom..." She called out, but Glenda was in such a psychotic fit she didn't respond. "GLENDA!" Bridget screamed which finally drew her attention only for a moment. "I just came to tell you that your mother a few days ago. We buried her today"

"She..will....rise...! Glenda screamed before pulling at her hair. "The...red...rider... It killed my Conner...he..will...rise!" It was all nonsense, honestly, Bridget hated coming to visit her because of the wild ramblings she usually blurted out; but now it felt like she had too. "Mom, it's me Bridget, what are you talking about" Glenda's eyes grew wide as if she was forcing her mind to focus on Bridget.

"Oh...nonononononononono! Bridget, you shouldn't be here. The spirits surround you! Please my child! go home before nightfalls! don't get caught in the dark!" the crazed woman shouted before falling to the ground throwing a fit, kicking and screaming. Eventually, the nurse and several other members of the faculty stormed the room to sedate Glenda forcing Bridget to leave a bit more freaked then when she arrived. "She kept going on about someone named Conner, and Spirits and not getting caught at night. What's she talking about" the nurse shook her head, she had no clue. "She was usually pretty good, up until we told her your grandmother died. We've been having problems with her ever since."

Don't get caught in the dark!

"So much for all that," she thought exiting the hospital as the sun finally began to set. Before she could get back in her car a huge gust of wind push down from Northern Coventry thru Southern Coventry, a chilling gust of wind uncharacteristic for the day they'd been having so far. There was no point in going home, not with her grandmother gone. Reaching in her backseat she pulled out her acceptance letter to Boston College, she'd been accepted for a while, but once her grandmother fell ill she decided to put academics on hold to tend to her ailing grandmother. None she had no one, the doctors would take care of her mother until she eventually passed. It was time to leave Coventry.

Today one of the last descendants of the Coventry Witch Coven was laid to rest, she didn't know it. Bridget was the last living link to her ancestors but she had zero knowledge of her magic gifts. The Coventry Witch Coven fought for years to keep Coventry from becoming a cesspool for the unholy, but with no righteous witch to protect them who would protect the town. Bridget was also a member of the Salem Witch Coven on her father's side, evil witches that sought to use their magic to power the False God, they maintained a heavy presence in Coventry but once the Witching Hour hit and the seal was broken all of the dark forces would be free to battle for supremacy again. And today was the day it all started..with the Coventry Police responding to a possible homicide in North Coventry.

@bridget_murphy:

in the middle of the North Coventry Woods flames billowing all around her, soot and ash raining down from the sky. In front of her were women strung from a tree with a noose around their necks...dead.

With an odd painful looking strain Nicklaus inadvertently highjacked the untrained witch's revelation and had it magically cast against the wall of his candle-lit study.

The luminescent projection supernaturally replayed across the ethereal atmosphere as he too now found himself before the great fiery purge in the woods of North Coventry. Those haunting centuries oh so long ago.

What is this sensation he wondered. The smell, the excitement and fear. More then just an observer, he was there, at that moment but looking through the bias observational perceptive of another. Linked, yet distant. A long lived relative perhaps? An executioner? He didnt know, all he knew was he could touch it. The ash, the fading life-force of the hung. The sound of swinging rope anchored by the dead. It all seemed...

Suddenly, as if funneled back into the real world by tremendous concussive like force outside of his own making, Nicklaus was once again alone in his study. Confused yet drunk off an idea, off a vision. Like waking from a dream he had felt her presence there, but had not registered a face. Only the sense of familiarity. It lingered like an addict's un-quenchable hunger. It lingered...and lingered...

Sometime later;

From out of nowhere, gently yet with enough force to gain her attention, Nicklaus wrapped his ringed finger on the young woman's car window. Her attention had been seemingly lost on matters beyond obvious interpretation. The collar of his black Egara peacoat had been flipped up around his cheeks indicating a rapid temperature drop outside. "Hey you okay? Car trouble?" he questioned. Manipulating his finger's down below eye view, magically 'tutting' as to ensure the car's alternator would fail. "You dont wanna get stuck out here. You dont wanna get caught, in the dark."

Your character freaks me out, and I'm the one who created the rp lol

I love him.

@the_xsoteric: @bridget_murphy:

Glenda, the girl's mother, lived the rest of her days a prisoner in an asylum, in a grey building of haunting walls and barren hallways. And in those hallways was the shadow of a predator, the Silent Man. He wore a wig and fake facial hair. Prosthesis that changed his cheekbones, added a forehead and lengthened his nose. Dental facades that made his gums plumper, and changed the profile of his face. Artificial pallets that changed his enunciation, gave him a lisp. And artificial wrinkles to change his age. Mop in hand, back slouched and eyes low, he posed as a lowly janitor, mopping the hallway, a pebble in his shoe pinching his toes to change his walk, a bandage wrapped tight around his knee to slow and restrain his stride. No brutal witch-hunter, but an old janitor who spied for him.

Every day he was there. Familiar with the miserable madmen cowering behind steel bars. Some of whom he'd put there himself. Witches and warlocks - dogs and the damned, in his mind. He walked on, mopping the grime and filth from the tiled floors and catching every patient's gaze from the side of his eye. Some had the look of despair and hopelessness, their talent for sorcery taken by the madness of their cell. The Silent Man fought back the smirk. He was not the Black Reaper, not here, not now. Only a janitor. So he mopped on, finding one woman's gaze empty and dark. Not a witch, not his problem. Only Glenda. He strode past her cell at random intervals every week or so. Glimpsing at Bridget's visits, and eavesdropping on their talks. Glenda was a mistake, a woman driven mad by an attack meant for her husband - a warlock and Bridget's father. She was a casualty, and her husband a runaway and a coward. So the Silent Man lingered, playing the long game and hoping that on a lurid moon's night, Glenda would let something slip to Bridget, something about where that coward had gone to hide.

But he'd been given something else instead. His ears had caught it as clear as day. The girl's grandmother had died.

Good.

She was unprotected now. Vulnerable. And Bridget was ripe for the taking, if not as bait to lure out her father, then as another body to bury and another bloodline of witches ended. She left the asylum and he followed. Close enough to keep sight of her, but far enough to avoid notice. An alleyway here and a shadow there, and his disguise had changed. Gone was the janitor, and here was a cyclist, blonde with a pep in his step and a demon's emerald eyes. He followed her, from a distance, riding behind other cars, following her as the anti-magic tattoo covered by his sleeve and glove zeroed in on Bridget. She was a novice, unskilled with potential untapped. But magic ran through her veins, in her blood. Then emerged another. One whose twisting fingers and contorting hand motions caught the Silent Man's eye. Spellcasting. So like it did with Bridget, the neutralizing frequencies of his anti-magic tattoo reached out to declare the warlock's spell null and void.

His bicycle slowed, the Silent Man hopped off, popped his own rear tire, tossed his bicycle aside, and strode up to both Bridget and the warlock with his smile sweet but his intentions sinister, murderous. "Hey, don't mean to interrupt your talk but uh", he paused, an introvert's nervous laugh flowing out his throat, faux but convincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Do any of you mind helping me out? Call me an Uber or give me a ride? I'll pay!", he insisted, "My bike got a flat and I didn't bring my phone with me. And my house is on the other side of town so..". If things went according to plan, they'd bite the bait, and he'd deceive and trick them into his captives. But if he was refused? He'd maim and murder them both, and draw Bridget's father out with her corpse.

@the_xsoteric: @razahn: @bridget_murphy:

Coventry 1690’s

It all happened so quickly, and seemingly out of nowhere. The town turned on us, not just us, anyone they could justify being a witch. Women who have seduced men away from their wife? They had to be a witch. If a person became ill, it was the person who they didn’t like must have cast a spell on them.

This hunt was lead by none other than The Priest of Coventry Church, Father Peter. Father Peter was a rather kind man, normally soft-spoken, humble, with peaceful eyes. But that day, his face was twisted with evil and eyes of hate. “Twas a vision,” he said when he made the announcement, “God has shown me that the Devil is in Coventry, and working through witches!” I remember his words as he stood at the steps of the church, waving his Bible around as he shouted. I remember right there, in front of the church, they chose their first victim, Puritan Reed.

She was no witch, she was simply a widow who only had one son, a son who died of an illness during the last winter. But to the crowd who had suddenly turned violent, she was a witch who cursed her own family. There was no reasoning with them. Those who tried to stand up for her were accused of being under her spell. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was as if the entire town was placed under some sort of spell, a curse.

I remember the sinking feeling my stomach, nausea sweeping over me as sweat began to collect along my brow as my mouth turned as dry as the fields during a drought. I remember my husband, Andrew, grasping my hand tightly and dragging me away from the crowd turned mob as they began to drag Puritan away to Coventry woods, to hang her off a tree. I remember thinking, “Am I going to die?” because unlike Puritan, I am a witch.

My husband was a normal human, a simple mortal who was a hard worker. He knew what I was, and yet, he still loved me. Our children, Isabel, Margaret, Thomas, Vincent, and Joseph were also blessed with the gift and they were exceptional at using them. But when the hunt began, I had to make a difficult choice, to bind their powers. I had self-control, but my children? I couldn’t risk their lives. So I bind their powers, for now, until things calmed down. Until it was safe to practice again.

But death came for everyone. Witches, non-witches, entire families were being killed to "Destroy the bloodline of witches." But it wasn't just here. Word spread that the witch hunt spread all the way to Salem. It was horrifying seeing the mass hangings happen on a weekly bases. I could feel the tightening around my own neck, because deep down I knew, it was only a matter of time before it was my turn. Then finally, death came for me, but not the way I thought it would. It wasn’t magic that got the town to turn against me. It wasn’t anything I did, it was my own last name, Killborn.

The winter of 1962 many children became ill and passed away and while my children became ill, they managed to pull through the sickness. Rumors spread quickly like a fire to hay that I was absorbing the life of the sick children and placing them in my own children so they could survive. “Her name is Killborn! It makes sense! She kills those who are born, children!” Then, the most difficult decision was made.

Andrew and I spoke the night before my death and figured in order to protect the children, I had to die. Not only that, Andrew was going to have to be the one who killed me. It was the only way. Andrew would have to take me into the middle of the town and condemn me, then walk me into the woods and hang me. It had to be him. It was the only way to prove to this mob that Andrew wasn’t under a spell and the only way to keep them from killing our children.

But before the sun rose, I cast a spell upon myself. I wasn’t ready to leave my family, but I knew I had to, at least for now. This spell was to bring me back from death when the family was in need of me the most. Hopefully, enough time would have passed that the witch hunt would be over and I would be able to reunite with my family… but not too much time.

Now, Killborn cemetery

Pressure, all around her body, like an icy hug. She couldn’t even open her eyes, let alone breath. The Killborn struggled to move, but she couldn’t tell which way was up or down. She began pushing her arms and legs frantically as she realized where she was… buried in the Earth. She couldn’t tell how long it had been until her hand finally broke through, she could feel air hit her hand as she began to pull herself up from her unmarked grave in the outskirts of the cemetery. The eerie silence of the cemetery was suddenly broken as a gasp of air was heard coming from the resurrected witch throughout the cemetery. First time in who knew how long since something was actually heard from here.

What was left of her tattered clothes clung onto the body as did the wet dirt from the cemetery from head to toe. Her body began to tremble as she stood up on her wobbly legs. She was cold and terrified. She quickly realized where she was she looked ahead at all the graves that were not too far from her. Lisa began to slowly walk forward. Her bare feet dragging along the seldom kept grounds. Her hands wrapped around her waist as her wide chocolate brown eyes darted left to right. This was Coventry? She could see street lamps not too far ahead, or that's what she thought they were. As she exited the cemetery, she noticed black ground before her. It was absent of any sort of vegetation. It seemed to be some sort of path. But then, a huge gust of wind began to push against her. Something was happening and someone wanted her to go in the direction of the wind. As if the Mother Earth was greeting the Coventry Witch, and also... showing her a path she had to take. So she followed the harsh winds. She needed to find her family, they needed her.

Post is on the way

I get nervous when you post things like this...

@phantomshell: Why lol

@shanana:

Cause you say that then might dip out for 2 weeks :P

@phantomshell: Nah I’m on it, it’s half-way done, though my daughter is sick so I might not finish it until tomorrow

@shanana: Hope she feels better soon. No worries. I was only half serious :D

Looks cool. A very Sabrina vibe that I like anout this.

@feral_nova:

I wanna play!

@ravenna:

@razahn: @lisa_killborn: @the_xsoteric:

Bridget's attention was partitioned by various events transpiring around her. This day was composed of sadness and unexplained phenomenon that quite frankly she didn't feel like dealing with--not sober anyway. Removing her head from the steering wheel inhaling and exhaling deeply, she went to put the key in the ignition before the sudden appearance of a man causes her to nearly jump into the passenger seat. Some called it extreme paranoia, but Bridget was a fairly observant woman; it was rare that anyone could enter her personal space without her knowing.

"No, My car's fine." 'Keep it short, don't give him a reason to think you wanted a conversation and if all else fails--tell him you got a girlfriend' She thought, but it was his last line that snagged her attention.

"W-wait. What?" Her head tilts to the side, eying him with interest. Her interest in him would have to wait, as another man just so happened to inject himself into the conversation siting a damaged bike. "I can call you an uber that's not a problem," She said at first removing her phone to access the app as Bridget did so, unknown to her a relative from a time long passed returned to life; ending a centuries old that she enacted to ironically keep the bloodline safe. In what was sure to be detected by other spirits, her body began to undergo an internal awakening, previously unknown power began to surge through her body--the Power of the Coventry Witch Coven, as well as the powers of the Salem Witch Coven converging all at once.

'Run Bridget...' Her head perked up, she thought she heard something, like a, whisper in the wind but she was sure neither of them said anything. "Your Uber will be here shortly" She said giving a half-cocked smile that suggest she was becoming uncomfortable.

Unknown to them, Bridget and the Warlock they were in the presence of a Witch-Hunter, pure-blooded humans that sought to expunge witches and warlocks alike from the world. They were both in danger.

Giving a 'friendly' wave she prepared to drive off when a massive Great Horned Owl landed on the hood of her car.

"sh!T" she screamed startled by the sheer size of the bird. It perched on Bridget's hood making eye contact with the three of them--namely Bridget.

Because of the centuries old spell Bridget never awakened as a witch, now that she finally did she was entitled to a familiar--this owl. Shooing at it from the inside of the Car Bridget's antics did nothing to move it, rather shift it's attention from her to the Witch Hunter. "One of yall do something make it go away"

The real purpose for it's arrival was to link Bridget up with great ancestor.

Heh sits on the jetti, oblong red sneakers grazing the midnight moon reflected in the lake water. "Dee dah lee dee dah doo dah day..." He strums his white gloved fingers against the ever softening wood planks. "I once was a man of clay, until a wizard went came my way." He kicks harder at the water, "Said 'boyo I can grant you life, so long as you promise me your first born for a wife.' "

Bubbles rise from the lake. A head, scales and hardened, rises from the murky ether.

"I said sir what if she's a he, he said that don't bother me." Heh smiles and cocks his neck with vigor glaring up at the pale moon light.

The invading predator slithers through the water with slow deliberate movements that barely disturb the waters.

"I said but sir what if he takes after me, he said well then you can keep that ugly baaaaaybeeeee."

The alligator lunges with the ferocity of it's prehistoric ancestors at the clown.

Jaws snap at his head but in vain. The predator writhes in agony feeling an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of it's barreled chest. Fear.

large, putrid yellow nails dig into it's encased eyes and hold it still as its tail flails wildly in the water disrupting the tranquility.

"Dinner time. Heh."

@the_xsoteric: Yup!

@razahn: @bridget_murphy:

There was no anticipation for the unique and utter barrage of astonishing arrivals. An overwhelming peace of orchestrated theater had befallen - the yet - unrealized witch. While neither the secret Caliph of Dead Crowns or the untapped spellcaster registered the concealed hand of death in their presence.

Prideful and precise, Nicklaus had become silently all-consumed by the muted spell. Improbable. Impossible. First, ignoring the stranded 'pedestrian,' and for a minute, even the winged grace. But like a sledgehammer to the mind the Familiar's presence and penance like stare of judgment quickly arrested Nicklaus' attention.

His arms aristocratically swam to one another behind his back, his fingers twisting and narrating the rings there-on. His head and chin elevated. For unlike Bridget, Nicklaus understood the importance and meaning of the impressive creature's arrival. He was awake to the esoteric World just beyond the veil, the supernatural realities and long running blood-ties that were the unseen custodians of the Coventry Covens.

In his loose philosophical conviction Nicklaus perceived the Witches and Warlocks to supreme and powerful. He saw no reason to hide or show restraint. Yet secretly harboring a great many internal conflictions courtesy of his overbearing and unforgiving father; Daithi Rothermere. Who suffered no imperfection. In himself or others, and had raised his son in a similar manner. To cast an incomplete spell would have garnered certain...judgments. Unacceptable, judgments.

"One of yall do something make it go away"

"Are you sure? I think it likes you." Subtle social theatrics governed his moderated grins. Paced his cultured physical gestures and idiosyncratic expressions. Looking to Bridget and then to the stranger. "I'm sorry, how rude. Nicklaus Rothermere." Extending his hand to the camouflaged Hunter.

Without warning his stomach quickly bottomed out then and there. Not from proximity to the Hunter however. Skill and tatted safe-guards had expertly concealed his true identity as an executioner and would be pacifier of natural purity. No. The Xsoteric's unexpected alert had traveled far and pierced through the Hunter's circumvention in order to trigger Nicklaus' magical intuition. Carried by a supernatural gust from the Killborn Cemetery to the trio's current location.

His hand remained extended but curiosity caused him to look to Bridget. Could she have felt it to? Had her magical instincts been awoken by the Familiars arrival? Had the culmination of so many unexplained events crashed the walls of her power's hibernation? Or maybe it would all just overwhelm her and cause her to freak out and run...

Uhhhhh want me to go again

Nope! Posting later.

Making an alt for this (๑^_^)و

@lisa_killborn: @bridget_murphy: @the_xsoteric:

At Bridget's offer to call him an Uber, the man smiled, "Thank you", he sighed, face colored with faux but convincing relief and gratitude, "I don't know what I would'a done without you". Moving his eyes between Bridget and the warlock, an ever-present voice in his mind whispered a constant reminder; play the part, you are not Razahn the Butcher, not right now. Choose a bland and non-threatening name. You're Jim, from LA. And Razahn played his part like an Oscar winner. He stood like a typical American, with his weight supported on one leg instead of both. He talked like one and acted like one. He was Jim. And as an owl glided it's way down to the hood of Bridget's car, "Jim" fought off every single one of Razahn's instincts that told him to butcher the bird for being a random variable in his long game, and he did as Jim would.

He grew startled.

"Holy shit!", Jim chuckled, nervously clearing his throat. Recomposing himself, he took a step back, "That's a big funkin' bird. Just-just honk your horn, I'm sure it'll shoo it away or something", he suggested, sure to put haste and mild discomfort in his voice. But instead of a honking horn, a warlock's voice floated to his ears. "Oh.. yeah, name's Jim. Jim Bradley", he paused, his hand meeting Nicklaus' for a quick handshake, and his eyes sure to glance back at the owl to feign fear - to stay in character. "I.. I should go", he insisted, "I'll just wait by the sidewalk. Thanks for the Uber!", he said, with a glance and wave Bridget's way, Jim strode off, discreetly grazing a finger on the rear of Bridget's car to leave behind a GPS tracker. Now was not the time to strike. Not in open view with multiple potential variables. He would do so later. She would be his first victim, and Nicklaus his second. And all in due time.

For now, he waited by the sidewalk he'd dragged his damaged bicycle to. His Uber would arrive shortly. This was the long game. He need only hope Nicklaus'd gain Bridget's interest and form a bond, so that he may kill the two birds with one stone. And Razahn was nothing if not unnaturally patient. Like a cancer, if he failed to kill now, he'd do so later.

@tenjin@duchess

IDK why yall haven't already

@faatina_knightfall: Waiting on PM response from Grimmwald and then drop a post tomorrow :D

@faatina_knightfall:

Well... I guess that means I'm in now

ITS MY TURN

@feral_nova: yes it is cause i was going to leapfrog you lol

Just saw that new Harry Potter ish. I'm feeling the magic inspo.