[center][hider=Cast][img]http://i.imgur.com/9rCf9HE.jpg?1[/img][img]http://i.imgur.com/9V7nZ19.jpg?1[/img]
[sub]Photo Credit: Tree Demon by [url=http://disse86.deviantart.com]disse86[/url][/sub][/hider][/center]
[center][h1][i]Puck’s Ward[/i][/h1][/center]
[center][h3][i]Part I[/i][/h3][/center]

[center][b]Location: Shadow of the Moon Occult Curiosities – Chinatown, Lost Haven
Time: 11 a.m., One Day after the HoH Broadcast[/b][/center]
[hr]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/jEqLKR6.jpg?1[/img][/center]

[i]Panic[/i]

The whole of Lost Haven’s underground seemed taken by it. Metas began their panicked flight from the city the moment they turned on the evening news; sorcerers, witches, and other occultists and practitioners clung to the darkest regions of the state, warding themselves and their loved ones with their many mysteries and magicks; inhuman and other immortal creatures descended back into their netherworlds, not necessarily out of fear, but in anger and disgust of the human race; and all who remained, who hadn’t the means to leave or perhaps who would rather fight this battle than retreat, did so wearily. Lost Haven was damned long before the arrival of the Hounds of Humanity, but now, even with the knowledge of ones such as Icon guarding the city, no one felt safe. 

But that wouldn’t stop everyone.

Wonderfully brassy and deterministic, Madalena Hawthorne stepped through the front door of her store, Shadow of the Moon, just before opening. She’d stayed late the night before to make sure her displays were in order, wanting plenty of time to rest after the previous night’s events. The idea of a hostile takeover by domestic terrorists like the Hounds scared her to be sure, but this wasn’t the first time Lost Haven, or the country for that matter, had felt that same terror, and somehow it always managed to work itself out. Besides, she was more likely to die walking down the stairs of her apartment than at the hands of a crazed terrorist . . . right?

Waving away her innumerable doubts, Madalena began obsessively fidgeting with her merchandise, realigning hanging charms, arranging altar tools into slightly more aesthetic positions, anything and everything to keep herself from opening the store for the day.

[color=FFA07A][i]Oh, get over yourself, girl![/i][/color] Madalena gave herself a mental kick, setting down a half shuffled deck of oracle cards and making her way to the front of the stoor. [color=FFA07A][i]Just turn the damn sign and get this show on the road.[/i][/color]  

Madalena flipped over a rustic, “We’re Open!”, sign on the front door and switched on the neon open sign displayed on the right window. Immediately, she felt a sense of relief. There was no thunder and lightning, no rumbling or scratching, nothing to indicate any sign of impending doom. Satisified, she walked back to the counter and sat down on a low stool, pulling a small book from below the register. [i]Magic Circles in the Grimoire Tradition[/i], the second edition published by Three Hands Press.

Madalena had taken a particular interest in the medieval grimoire tradition of sorcery and its roots in modern traditions of witchcraft, as of late. This scholarly side felt completely new to her, though not all that surprising. She’d taken a plethora of research classes at her community college in West Virginia before moving to Maine, acing all but her psychology course. And given her slow but apparent departure from New Age craft, which she owed almost in full to her companionship with Marie, Madalena wanted to become more adept in her historical understanding of witching traditions in case she ever wanted to get into the practice again.

After only a few pages in, a soft breeze poured over the counter, nipping at her exposed arms and gingerly lifting the edges of flyers for old events that were strewn about the countertop. Madalena looked up, but to door remained shut and the AC vents were only in the office and the front of the store. 

Another breeze stirred inside the store, rattling prayer beads and windchimes, creating a cacophony of ethereal music that was far more chilling than any wind. Madalena stood from her stool, moving to the front of the counter to see if the AC was set too high by she or a customer the previous evening. Finding no signs of tampering, she walked under the vent, which was so light it could barely lift a strand of hair. 

Not a moment after the second breeze came the flickering of lights, first signaled by a crackling in the neon sign, then the office, then the whole store, constantly shuffling in and out of darkness. Madalena rushed back behind the counter, ducking down and peeking through the glass jewelry display.

[color=FFA07A][i]Shit![/i][/color] she swore internally, her heart pounding in her chest, eyes watering from fear of the unknown. [color=FFA07A][i]I shoulda just stayed home, I shoulda knew this shit would happen. Goddammit, why did I get out of bed![/i][/color] 

Her thoughts were scared and frantic. She assumed that, any moment now, a pack of Hounds in black body gear would come bursting through her door, condemning her to a painful death. And the real kicker, in her mind, was that she wasn’t even a witch, or not in the magical sense anyway. Sure she dabbled when she was younger and made a living off the lore and the spiritual practice of it, but she was nothing like the White Witch or any of the others witches she’d read about. 

Just as Madalena feared, in the midst of her worry, the door swung open with full force, a loud crashing noise following closely behind. But what she saw wasn’t a a pack of men, only one, and though he was dressed all in black, it was a suit. 

[color=FFA07A][i]C-Could he be a customer?[/i][/color] Madalena wondered, repositioning herself behind the counter to see the whole the man’s entire body rather than just his lower half. 

No, this was certainly no patron.

From beyond the door stepped a tall, slender man dressed all in black, handsome, pale features, except his hands, which were like ashen claws, and atop his head were similarly dark antlers, complementing his black hair and soulless eyes. What was he, and what did he want?

Madalena placed her back against the counter, sitting deathly still and holding her hand over her mouth so as not to let out a loud breath or cry. The sound of footsteps nearing the counter, however, made her audibly sob.

[color=A52A2A][b]”Ms. Hawthorne?”[/b][/color] his voice echoed through the store, touching Madalena and shaking her core with its ethereal reverberation. She shuddered at the mention of her name. 

The footsteps stopped right as he neared the counter. Overhead, Madalena could hear the ding of the bell she’d left next to the register for customers to get her attention if she was in the back. Madalena didn’t move, remaining deathly still.

[color=A52A2A][b]”I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. My name is Robin Goodfellow,”[/b][/color] the man introduced himself, his voice still eerie and jarring, but carrying an air of whimsy that Madalena seemed to recognize, along with the name.

[color=A52A2A][b]”Things around Lost Haven have been a little hectic lately, as I’m sure you’re aware. You must trust that I mean you no harm. In fact . . .”[/b][/color] his voice trailed off.

Madalena turned to look out of the glass case to find the store empty. She took in a deep breath, turning around to find the stranger kneeling right in front of her, their faces so close she could feel the same chilling wind from earlier emanating from his skin. 

[color=A52A2A][b]”I have a proposition for you.”[/b][/color]