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twave
FetzenAs you know, I'm down
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6 yrs ago
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Sliced Bread is the best thing since Betty White
6 yrs ago
I finally got around to watching A Silent Voice. Very nice to see some deaf culture representation in anime.
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7 yrs ago
My room is so empty! All of my furniture sans bed and wardrobe have been moved to the new place. Not long now :)
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7 yrs ago
Buzzbead... BuzzBEAD. WHICH GEMSTONE ARE YOU? TAKE THIS INSIGHTFUL QUESTIONNAIRE TO FIND OUT!
7 yrs ago
*Downing a bottle of cab merlot whilst filling out mental illness quizzes on buzzbeed* COMING OUT OF MY CAGE AND I'VE BEEN DOING JUST FINE
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Bio
"Just a white girl trying to enjoy the croutons in her salad."
Most Recent Posts
Priscilla Duran
Jamie’s Office, Phoenix Wing Guild Hall | Magnolia
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
Priscilla graciously accepted Jack’s generous offerings of a select few jobs from his own guild. Sitting back in her chair, she bowed her head to her fellow master before turning her attention back to Jamie. Her words stirred something within her, prompting a warm smile.
“Jamie and Jack,” She began, narrowly suppressing a joyful tear, “you cannot begin to imagine how much your kindness has touched me. Rest assured, my kind are not wont to squander a gift such as this. We will soon return the favor; to both of you.” The requests were not much at first glance, but it was a start. The rewards were enticing enough to keep her guild happy for now, and surely if they performed well these clients would secure more work for them across the land. A handful of Fiore’s citizens were already beginning to see the benefits those who walked betwixt light and shadow could provide - Wolven Pyre only needed time to grow in infamy throughout the nation.
The talk of a communal job board further piqued her interest; the idea of their guild mages working together on a unified front to complete requests around Fiore with much more efficiency than ever before was most welcome. Though Jack’s comment about embracing innovative technology brought an uneasy look upon the witch’s face.
“I’ll be the first to admit that technology and myself are not great friends, but I am willing to learn.” The Daughters of Hecate had little need for machinery, the natural energy residing throughout the Silverbranch Glade was enough to fuel their various bewitchments throughout their home. Everything from lightning to plumbing and heat was the byproduct of a magical enchantment that had been maintained throughout their home for generations. It was only recently with the advent of new wizards joining them that Priscilla had saw fit to invest in some newer equipment like radio and communication lacrima - though she still preferred the old ways.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Speaking of the old ways, Priscilla reached into her robes and removed a pair of matching black candles. Runic engravings lined the sides, emanating with a faint power that resonated with Priscilla’s own magical presence.
“These are for you.” She handed a candle to each of her fellow masters. “Somewhat primitive compared to your devices, but should you ever need my assistance you need only light your candle and speak your message into the flame. A gift, as a token of our newfound alliance.” It would be best if the masters could easily keep in contact, and this was Priscilla’s preferred method. The Unyielding Flame of Hecate linked directly to the enchanted candles; the torch rarely leaving her side. A direct line of communication was the safest bet, afterall.
Bullet, Henri Baptiste and Meredith Clagnan
Wolven Pyre Guild Hall | Silverbranch Glade
Interacting with: | Manami Fuyu and Shiro @Lunarlord34 | Argus Leandros @Raijinslayer
Interacting with: | Manami Fuyu and Shiro @Lunarlord34 | Argus Leandros @Raijinslayer
The gathering at the bar had grown somewhat in size, with almost every stool now hosting a patron. Meredith buzzed around behind the counter, preparing her signature tea blend tailored to the tastes of her guild mates. Surely enough, each patron had a steaming cup of tea in front of them. Except Bullet, who instead received a tall, chilled glass of pop. The young man voraciously downed the contents without so much as an afterthought, prompting an annoyed huff from the server.
“It is customary to thank someone when you are given a treat - free of charge, I might add.” Meredith watched him shrink into his seat, glancing away whilst tucking his chin down to his chest in a vain attempt to hide the vermillion flush spread across his cheeks.
“Thanks.” He mumbled, barely louder than a whisper. It was good enough for her; or rather about all she would expect from him.
Henri nodded towards Meredith when his own cup was placed in front of him, turning to Manami with a coy smirk at her own little teasing.
“I ‘adn’t noticed ‘ow much attention you’ve been paying to our little chats, madame.” Henri ran his fingers through his hair and leaned in closer so that only Manami could hear him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d even say you fancied the- ow! Bon Dieu!” The shout of pain caught a few people around the hall off guard, Henri springing to his feet at the sudden, intense burning that resulted from scalding hot tea being poured on his leg. Bullet piqued up at the sound before snorting a ridiculing chuckle.
“Aw, looks like someone’s jealous.” He snickered at the little act of aggression. Shiro didn’t seem the sort to be so high strung, but even a saint will lose their cool if you know just the right buttons to press. Meredith clicked her tongue in disapproval, handing a rag over to the counter to help soak up the now warming tea from his trousers. She shot an irritated glare at Shiro.
“You and your lady will need to get your refreshments elsewhere if you insist on engaging in such childish tomfoolery.” She glanced back at Henri to see he had managed to clean himself up, but the pained look on his face made it evident that the burn still stung somewhat. Rather than bother anyone over something he deemed so trivial, Henri simply grinned and beared it whilst returning to his seat. This time he leaned across the counter to have a word with his assailant.
“You know,” He began, an eerily pleasant smile stretched across his face from ear to ear. “A lesser witch wouldn’t think twice about returning the favor to the poor fool who scorned them. ‘Ave you ever been ‘exed, Shiro? I think you will find the experience quite… dismal.”
“Let it go, big guy” Meredith warned. Henri sat back up straight and lifted his hands up before him in compliance.
“It is good that I am no lesser witch, no?” He winked at her, deciding to leave the matter to rest. For now. A hex would definitely be going too far, but he’d find some way to enact vengeance in time.
Argus’ comment regarding the state of Henri’s trousers prompted him to look down to assess the damage. Sure enough, it seemed like a small patch of discoloration was beginning to stain into the fabric.
Damn. He liked these pants.
“Eh, nothing a little elbow grease won’t be able to get out.” He assured Argus, taking note of the young man’s attempts to hide the stinging handprint from the new arrivals. Hopefully he found some solace in not being the only man that was on the receiving end of a woman’s fury today.
“As for that woman, I cannot say.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, perhaps wondering if they should have been a bit more cautious of a stranger in their midst. “Bah, Zhulie is a clever fille. If she trusts ‘er then there is no worries ‘ere.'' Meredith didn’t agree with that sentiment, but she was confident that Regan wouldn’t try anything if she did have malicious intent. She was surrounded by many skilled witches and mages afterall.
“God, what’s taking the food so long? I’m dying here!” Bullet proclaimed, standing up from his seat and making his way towards the kitchen.
Bullet and Zhulie Pesta
Wolven Pyre Kitchen | Silverbranch Glade
Interacting with: Regan Hadou @CitrusArms
Interacting with: Regan Hadou @CitrusArms
Zhulie hung upon every word that came from Regan’s mouth, followed every instruction with an elated enthusiasm and was overall thrilled to be participating in some baking with her newfound companion. The dish in question was something Zhulie had heard of but never had the luxury of tasting - a souffle. She had read about the curious delicacy before, described to be a finicky treat that was so light and fluffy that even the slightest of disturbances would cause it to deflate. Olga directed her staff with a tone of urgency as they bustled about the kitchen, yet even she found herself catching glimpses of Regan's handiwork. Every so often she would inquire about certain techniques or offer some advice. Not that it was needed; Regan seemed quite at home in a kitchen.
“How long does it need to bake, Miss Regan?” Zhulie had watched the older woman place the dessert into the oven. Her excitement was evident by the way she crouched right beside the hearth and longingly gazed through the glass.
“Watched kettle does not boil little one.” Olga’s warm expression whilst addressing Zhulie quickly turned sour as her nose wrinkled with the stench of something most unpleasant.
“You!” The head chef pointed to the doorway without so much as turning her gaze towards the one who had just entered. “This boy, he reeks of sweat and grime and thinks ‘Oh, let us go and spread my grubby, dirty hands around Olga’s kitchen’?” Bullet stood dumbfounded in the doorway, his hands clenched over his exposed abdomen with an almost desperate pout.
“Aw, come on Olga.” He pleaded, almost wincing under the harsh glare of the chef who had now armed herself with a stainless steel ladle. “I’m starving. Don’t you have any leftovers to spare? Please?” Zhulie rolled her eyes at the display. It seemed manners came easily when he had something to gain.
Olga paused for a moment before inhaling sharply.
“Bah!” She placed the ladle back with the other utensils before moving over to one of the warming trays. She pulled them out to reveal several rows of what looked to be a sort of pastry stuffed with spiced lamb and potatoes. Removing a few into a paper bag, she walked over to the young man and shoved them into his chest.
“You grovel like bear cub who waits in cave for mother to return with dinner. Pathetic. Enjoy your scraps, cub.” He would take offence to such a demeaning comment in normal circumstances, but even Bullet knew not to bite the hand that fed him. He didn’t hesitate to wolf down one of his pastries, walking over to Zhulie and Regan just as he released a satisfied belch.
“’Sup” He narrowly scooted around the little girl’s attempt to throw a wet rag at his face.
“You’re disgusting!” Zhulie grimaced. Between his cold shoulder and terrible manners, Regan surely would be appalled by the cohort of their guild. Hopefully she knew that they weren’t all so vulgar.
“So, you seem to be baking up a storm in here? What’re ya cookin’?” Bullet crouched beside Zhulie to stare into the oven alongside her, not quite sure what he was supposed to be looking at. Some form of cake?
Before Zhulie was able to tell him to buzz off a commotion seemed to erupt from within the guild hall. The kitchen seemed to stop for a moment as the muffled sound of people talking over one another could be heard even from where they stood.
Meanwhile, in the Guild Hall
The chatter came to a grinding halt throughout the entire hall when the doors swung open to reveal a disheveled lady in a tattered grey cloak. She was limping, a large gash on her exposed leg. A few were quick to come to her aid, sitting her down beside the bar as Meredith rushed to deliver some healing ointment.
“Karla, what did this to you?” A concerned mage asked, knelt beside the witch as she struggled to regain her breathe enough to blurt out the cause of her current state.
“Talos… He’s been taken… Crossroads… Poachers. Karla stopped to drink the tonic Meredith provided, taking a moment to take a nice, long breath of fresh air. Once she was composed enough to speak in full sentences, she elaborated.
“Talos and I were meditating at the Keeper’s Crossroads when some poachers attacked us. They captured him. They put chains on him! I was able to enchant the forest so the trees may impede their path, but that’ll only keep them confined for so long. There were too many, I couldn’t fend them off on my own.” Meredith comforted her with a tender embrace. Talos was Karla’s familiar, a great direwolf whose size and might garnered him a fierce reputation even among the wolves of the glade.
“There, there love. It’s okay.” Karla quietly sobbed into Meredith’s shoulder, returning the gesture with her own arms wrapped around the older Witch’s.
“They’re going to take him away. Please, you have to get him back.” Meredith ushered for one of the others to take Karla somewhere to rest up, turning to the others in the guild with a look of intense determination.
“Alright, we’ll need to assemble two squads. Apprehending the poachers shouldn’t be too hard with our numbers, but don’t underestimate them. Karla may be young, but her magic is strong - strong enough to handle ordinary rabble even outnumbered. They must have mages among them. That’ll be nothing compared to handling Talos - even amongst familiars he is particularly powerful. Not to mention he’ll be scared and enraged from capture; you don’t try to tame a direwolf. Myself and a few others will remain behind to draw up a calming draft to subdue him. It’ll take us some time so whoever is going to confront Talos will need only distract him and make sure he doesn’t rampage into any neighbouring towns. Karla bought us some time with her forest enchantment, but we need to move quickly.” The group split off into their desired teams, rushing about the place to prepare for departure. Weapons were drawn, spell circles readies and nerves steeled. Meredith and a pair of witches began to gather a slew of potion regents before heading upstairs to the greenhouse to begin brewing the draft that would be strong enough to calm a raging direwolf. Time was of the essence here; and it was imperative that their Guild function together as a well oiled machine.
Priscilla Duran
Jamie’s Office, Phoenix Wing Guild Hall | Magnolia
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
Priscilla crossed one of her legs over her knee and leaned back into her chair whilst she listened to Jack speak about the supposed trouble in the desert. She took a sip from the black tea Jamie had offered her whilst her thoughts drifted to when she had met with the leaders of her sister covens many years ago on her inauguration. The camaraderie and willingness to cooperate wasn’t too far off from what she was experiencing here at Phoenix Wing. In fact, the same desert Jack spoke of was home to the Spears of Anat, a coven of nomad witches whom their own had been quite close with before Priscilla began integrating with wizards. It had been a few years since she’d heard from them.
“The desert can be a treacherous place indeed. She neglected to make mention of their sister coven; it wasn’t her place to reveal the location of her kin who wished to remain hidden from mage society. She just hoped that they weren’t involved in this incident.
She turned back towards Jamie as she spoke of the joy her guild members brought to her; hiding a smile in her cup of tea as she reminisced on the shenanigans of those whom she considered her own precious children.
“I would have to agree with you, Jamie.” She began, setting her cup back on the desk. “When I see how well my witches enjoy the company of mages like those who inhabit your own guilds, it gives me hope for a better future. I feel the same of our alliance. We are breaking down walls that have held strong for generations. Though it didn’t feel like much more than a simple meeting over coffee and tea, Priscilla could tell that what was happening right here in this room was history itself.
When it became clear that they would be the only ones in attendance, Priscilla decided to address Jack personally.
“As much as it hurts my pride to have to ask this of you, I’m afraid I may need to ask for your guild’s assistance.” She sighed, having barely held a seat in this alliance for half an hour and already asking favours of the others. It tore her up inside, but her guild was far more important than her pride. “The public has not yet taken to Wolven Pyre as much as we’d hope. We’ve had a steady stream of mages willing to give us a chance and work with us. However, the jobs we can offer them have been few and far between. With no revenue to show for their hard work, it would seem these new additions depart our walls as quickly as they arrive.” At this point she turned her body fully to Jack, placing a gentle hand on his arm rest.
“I know I am in no place to ask this of you, but our Guilds are quite close to one another. If there are any clients of yours who would be willing to give us a chance, and you can spare the potential income for your guild, we would greatly appreciate a few job referrals from your own listings. Just enough to get our name out there.” Being at the mercy of another was not a sensation Priscilla particularly enjoyed; but if she were to become a part of this alliance then she must learn to open up and admit when she needed help.
Bullet, Henri Baptiste, Zhulie Pesta and Meredith Clagnan
Wolven Pyre Guild Hall | Silverbranch Glade
Interacting with: Regan Hadou @CitrusArms | Manami Fuyu and Shiro @Lunarlord34 | Argus Leandros @Raijinslayer
Interacting with: Regan Hadou @CitrusArms | Manami Fuyu and Shiro @Lunarlord34 | Argus Leandros @Raijinslayer
Bullet was just about to enter the guild hall when a familiar voice brought a fierce scowl to his face. Just when he thought this trek through the woods couldn’t get anymore bothersome.
“Bite me, Manami.” He spat back. He wasn’t angry at her in particular, but rather the deluge of people who seemed to think it was their place to tell him what was best for him. He wasn’t simple; he knew he ought to be resting. He’d been doing nothing but resting for nearly a month, though. Pushing the massive doors of the guild hall proved somewhat straining, sending a sharp pain through the side of his ribcage that only proved everybody else right in their assessment of his physical form. He did his best to cover it up, but the sharp wince from the initial throbbing would definitely have been heard as he entered.
Zhulie watched Bullet disappear into the guild hall and shook her head. There was no sense in being so stubborn. She turned to Manami and offered an apologetic smile.
“I was just playing in the glade and I heard him training. She looked around for a certain, nonchalant companion. “Where is Shiro?” Manami and Shiro had joined the guild together, and whilst the former had seemed to possess a tentative interest in the other members; the latter couldn’t care less. Despite this, Zhulie had made every effort she could to make the brooding girl feel welcome; to various degrees of success. Their conversation continued into the hall, where Regan remarked in wonder about the sheer, natural brilliance of the structure. The young girl eagerly escorted her to the kitchen, passing by the group at the bar with a chirpy smile.
“’Morning Meredith, I found a friend in the woods. Why is Argus on the floor? Anyway, I’m giving her a tour, ‘kay bye!” Her rushed explanation faded off as the pair entered the kitchen, leaving a bemused Meredith as she offered a simple wave to the newcomer.
“Have fun, dear.” Meredith grinned at the sight of Argus on the floor, trying his best to play the little stunt off cooly. Shiro came up to the bar speaking of tea for her ‘lady’. The older woman clicked her tongue in disapproval, preparing a few teapots for the growing group of people.
“Your lady should order her own tea, Shiro.” She poured hot water readily prepared from the urn into the tea pots to help warm up the ceramic up in preparation for the loose leaves. She turned her back to discard the water down the sink, continuing to address Shiro whilst she scooped a few spoonfuls of a dark, aromatic earl grey blend into the pots. “For heaven’s sake, you’re not her servant.” She was mostly talking to herself; fully aware that her opinion would fall upon Shiro’s deaf ears. Not that there was anything wrong with ordering a drink on behalf of a friend; it was simply a matter of tone.
Henri was in the middle of hoisting up poor Argus, feeling somewhat responsible for his little accident, when Shiro made her usual dry, smug commentary on the matter.
“A little fun is good for the soul, no? Or ‘ave you not got one of those?” Henri jeered, clapping Argus on the back once he was steady on his own two feet. Shiro’s attitude of being so above it all didn’t sway him - he knew the joy of living for the simple moments. Meredith sat the tea pots down in front of Shiro, having let the leaves steep for some time to extract the perfect flavour. She folded her arms as she watched a familiar, blonde punk sit himself down at her bar.
“You got any more of that serum of yours? My side is killing me.” Bullet slumped down onto the bar, listening to the racket coming from the kitchen. Come to mention it, that Regan lady had mentioned something about food. His stomach grumbled once again.
“Your little expedition has cost you another week of recovery.” Meredith scolded Bullet, who simply buried his face into the side of his arm with a low growl. She slid a vial of a luminescent, silver liquid across to him. “I’m not giving you another drop this week, you hear me? There are other people who need it and you’re just wasting it by not following Priscilla’s medical advice.”
“Fine, I get it! Bullet snapped, yanking the vial from the counter. Why’d everyone have to be so annoying? He popped the cork and chugged the liquid in one fell swoop, feeling the instant relief course through his injured rib cage. Henri pressed his hand down on Bullet's scalp, ruffling his hair up whilst practically keeping the young man pinned down to the bar.
"You need to rest so you can regain your strength, mon frère. I've been keen to see you in action since I 'eard about you facing off against a wild chimera." Bullet's protests were drowned out by the hearty laugh of the older mage. Henri turned back to Argus with the same level of enthusiasm. "Strapping young lads like yourselves should be pushing your limits whenever you can."
"You speak as though you're not a spring chicken yourself, Henri. Perhaps you should take your own advice?" Meredith raised an eyebrow at the man; so quick to encourage others to better themselves and yet so content to seemingly drift along wherever the current took him. Henri rubbed the back of his head, a slight tinge of red forming on his cheeks. Nothing got past Meredith. Thankfully, Manami had also entered the guild hall to provide a suitable distraction.
"Ah, you are looking radiant today, madame.” He bent forward, reaching out to delicately hold Manami’s fingers. If she allowed him, he would go on to gently press his lips against the top of her hand. Standing up straight with a coy smile, he offered his seat to the lady.
“Come, come! We were just talking about these young ones. Speaking of, who was that woman Zhulie was with?” He sat back down beside Bullet who had reached over to grab a handful of the remaining almonds Meredith had put out.
“Some lady, her name is Regan. He chewed, gulping down the refreshments with an unsightly vigor that earned him a warning leer from Meredith. He made sure to finish what was in his mouth, knowing better than to test her ire. “She seems alright, I guess.”
Meanwhile Zhulie had introduced Regan to the kitchen staff. They primarily consisted of non-mage family members of her guild mates. However, the head chef was actually a witch who went by Olga.
“Olga is a ‘kitchen witch’, so she uses food as her medium for charms, hexes and other spells.” Zhulie happily explained, taking her over to a tray of freshly baked cookies that carried an intriguing, almost fruity scent. Olga wrapped a couple in some parchment paper, insisting the two try some.
“An age old recipe of my mutters. A salted rosemary base, sprinkled with pistachio and dried rose petals, drizzled with a pomegranate glaze. One bite will have you thinking of your beloved. Share it with them, and your love will bloom.” Zhulie was enamored with every word the chef spoke, eyeing her treat as she pondered who she might think of once she partook of it.
“Or,” Olga shrugged. “Enjoy on your own. It’s good recipe, ya? Please, help yourself to kitchen.” When Regan had walked in, Olga had instantly recognised a kindred spirit in her - a fellow connoisseur of delectable cuisines and tantalizing taste buds. Zhulie stared up at Regan.
“There must be something special about you, miss Regan. Olga doesn’t let just anyone have free reign of her kitchen.” She moved over to a large grimoire sprawled open on the counter - but rather than spells and rituals, the pages contained recipes for various magical and mundane desserts. Zhulie definitely had a sweet tooth.
Priscilla Duran
Jamie’s Office, Phoenix Wing Guild Hall | Magnolia
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
Interacting with: Jamie Beltras @MarshiestMallow | Jack Goran @Zarkun
When Priscilla shook Jamie’s hand, she felt a rush of invigorating energy travel up her spine. This woman, the master of Phoenix Wing, gave off such an inspiring radiance that she couldn’t help but feel in awe. For a moment, it reminded her of her own mother. In a way, it felt more fitting for Agnus to be standing here. A leader without equal, she would have surely been worthy to grace this gathering of guild masters. Agnus wasn’t here anymore though. The task of representing Wolven Pyre, and by extension the Daughters of Hecate, fell to Priscilla. It was a daunting shadow to live in.
“Magnolia is as beautiful as I remember it.” Priscilla responded to Jamie’s inquiry about finding the guild hall. “We who dwell within the Glade are often lacking the comforts of luxuries such as clothing boutiques and patisseries. I do apologise if it has led to any tardiness on my behalf, but I simply had to explore the sights before coming here.” She made a mental note to bring back some souvenirs for her guild members. Their small talk was interrupted by a red haired man entering the room whilst talking on a communication device. Turning to greet the man she knew to be Jack Goran, master of Dragon Fang, Priscilla offered her hand out for him to take in greeting.
“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Jack.” Dragon Fang was practically a hop, skip and a jump away from the Silverbranch Glade. Yet this was to be the first time she had met their master. “It is long overdue, I’m afraid. We’re practically neighbours and yet we’ve never met face to face. You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m afraid the bureaucracy of running a guild is still quite overwhelming for me. I rarely find time to escape my office, as I’m sure you can both sympathise.” She glanced down at Jamie’s desk at the pile of paperwork that made her own seem trivial by comparison. The unattractive side of running a successful guild it seemed.
Priscilla took a seat at one of the empty chairs around Jamie’s desk, standing her staff up beside her. The torch bearing staff stood upright on it’s own, the Unyielding Flame of Hecate keeping the room nice and toasty.
“Are we waiting on anyone else? If not I’d like to begin by offering my sincerest gratitude to the both of you for allowing me to represent Wolven Pyre at this meeting. We may be small, but we’re spirited. Rest assured that the witches and mages of our guild are always available should you need us.” Staring down at the lacrima on Jamie’s desk, Priscilla couldn’t help but notice what looked like some sort of concert. Sure enough, the muffled vocals and various instruments droned from beneath them. It would seem Phoenix Wing’s reputation preceded them.
Bullet and Zhulie Pesta
The group travelled along the lantern lit path with Zhulie leading the way. Bullet walked a few feet behind, his fists shoved into his pockets whilst he begrudgingly watched that damn brat lead someone she knew nothing about right back to the guild hall. Sure, Regan had given her word that she was no threat. Didn’t mean Bullet had to trust her. Worse off, it seemed Zhulie was all too happy to run her mouth and answer every little thing Regan wanted to know about Wolven Pyre. The group passed another lantern, the small flame flickering to life inside it’s cast iron cage whilst it dangled from the branch of a verdant oak. Carvings etched from many years ago depicted various runes and spell circles. Even just brushing past them, one could feel the ancient power that coursed through the glade. The witches of centuries past had definitely made their mark upon this forest.
Zhulie turned her face away with a slight blush at Regan’s compliments, and then returned back to her normal beaming self when the older woman inquired about her status in the guild.
“I am a member! In a sense.” She showed Regan the back of her hand where the Wolven Pyre mark was imprinted in a warm, amber. The mark depicted the three headed Goddess Hecate; a bull, wolf and snake.
“I’ve yet to forge a contract with my deity as of yet, so I’m afraid I don’t wield much in the way of magic.” Her free hand clutched a small pendant that hung from her neck, a beautifully carved teardrop of Rose Quartz dangling from the silver chain. It was her mothers. She glanced back up at Regan before realising she may not know what the young girl was talking about.
“You see, witches learn magic through forging pacts with entities on different planes. We communicate with them and devote ourselves to them, and they grant us their gifts.” A voice from behind called out in objection.
“She doesn’t need a lecture, kid.” Bullet grumbled. He began to shuffle forward, picking his pace up to hopefully reach the guild hall before he died of starvation. Walking alongside the pair, he simply clicked his tongue at Regan’s repeated assurance that she could be trusted. “We’d move a lot faster if you kept quiet, Zhulie.” The young girl poked her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to Regan. This woman certainly was curious about the guild. She had no choice but to oblige her of course! Filled with pride for her home, why wouldn’t she?
“Our coven is the Daughters of Hecate. We’re still active, but our leader Priscilla is the one who opened our doors to mages during the reign of the magic management council.” Zhulie was still very young when the previous council was dismantled, so she wasn’t privy to a lot of details of the event.
“She sheltered them and kept them safe in the glade, and I guess they loved it so much here they wanted to stay! Priscilla is the most amazing witch I’ve ever met. She stood before the council and pleaded her case, establishing the light guild Wolven Pyre as a place where mages and witches could live harmoniously.” Zhulie always got shivers when she heard the story. She idolised Priscilla as the ideal witch; strong, powerful but reserved and regal. She instinctively found herself nestling into Regan as they walked.
“If I could grow up to be half the witch Priscilla is, then I’ll consider myself lucky.” Her Choosing Rites were only a week away. Bullet was happy for her, but somewhat worried that the process would change her in some way. Not that change was a bad thing, but he’d grown accustomed to Zhulie’s bright demeanor and happy-go-lucky spirit. He wasn’t educated enough to know what forging a pact with a deity was like; he only hoped that they’d still have the same Zhulie afterwards.
The familiar sight of the coven Archstones came into view through the brush, resulting in a delighted squeal from the young girl. Zhulie skipped ahead of the others to stand beside the mighty, stone obelisks. They were each spaced a few meters apart, the rows stretching far into the glade as far as one could see.
“Oh Regan look!” She beckoned the older woman over, tracing along the intricate carvings of the stones. Yet unlike the lantern bearing trees, these rocks seemed absent of any power. There was definitely a residual energy, and a powerful one at that. Even Bullet could feel it when he pressed his palm against the smooth rock.
“These Archstones were placed by Beatrice Duran, our coven’s founder, hundreds of years ago. When our kind were still in hiding, these stones formed a powerful protective charm that kept the coven hidden from wanderers. Of course, Priscilla undid the magic within them once we became known to the world. Wolven Pyre is a place welcome to any stranger seeking refuge now.” Bullet glanced away from Regan, a slight pit in his stomach. He hadn’t been particularly welcoming. Swallowing his reservations, the young man cleared his throat and continued to trek past the Archstones.
“We’re almost there, come on.” Bullet pressed onward, and sure enough, the sight of a magnificent tree came into view. It’s enlarged roots stood tall above them, spreading out far and wide in all directions. The canopy towered high above, with just barely enough light piercing the leafy veil to illuminate the surrounding forest. If one looked closely enough, they could spy the intricate network of rope bridges and huts formed from shaped vines and foliage that encompassed the entirety of the tree’s mighty branches. Natural caverns formed in the great hollow made for excellent passageways to the various levels of the tree. At the base stood a mighty wooden door, a carved insignia practically faded to nothing etched upon it. Much more modern was the fresh banner bearing the same guild mark that Zhulie had shown Regan. She held onto Regan’s arm, barely able to contain her excitement as she bounded up and down.
“Welcome to Wolven Pyre!”
Henri Baptiste and Meredith Clagnan
Henri ran his fingers through his now dry hair and exhaled slowly. It wasn’t the first time Argus had put himself down, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The boy was his own worst enemy. It frustrated Henri to say the least, but he knew better than to push too hard. When the younger mage turned around and changed the topic to the barren job board, Henri swung around on his stool to glare at the scraps pinned up. It had barely changed since last week.
“Aye, we of the coven have had no trouble seeing that we are mostly self sufficient.” Henri had lived with the Daughters of Hecate for quite some time. It was true that they’d never needed an income to survive, but being an official guild meant mages would make their way to them in search of employment. Suffice to say, the jobs were few and far between. Argus’ suggestion of inquiring with Dragon Fang for some assistance peaked his interest. Meredith slid a bowl of salted almonds across to the boys, to which Henri almost immediately stuffed a handful into his mouth.
“Mm.. you hab a poi-”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Meredith smacked Henri on the top of his head. He cowered at her strike, taking a moment to gulp down the almonds with a satisfying exhale.
“Sorry ma’am.” Meredith rolled her eyes. “You have a point there Argus, mate. I’m sure Dragon Fang has jobs to spare.” The idea of tagging along on one of their famous hunts was appealing. He rubbed his goatee and leaned back against the bar. Meredith piped up from behind.
“It’s a nice idea, Argus. Unfortunately, I worry Priscilla may be too proud to ask for such assistance.” Henri stared up at the ceiling. He’d known Priscilla for many years and she’d always upheld herself as someone who would have done anything to preserve the coven. Yet Meredith knew her longer, and though it was easy to place Priscilla Duran on a pedestal; she was also human. Arrogant and prideful though? He wasn’t so sure about that.
“Well, she is at that meeting with the other masters. Who knows what will come of it?” Henri threw a couple almonds up into the air, tipping his head back and swerving on his stool to catch around half of them in his mouth. Good enough. Pulling a closed fist back towards himself in triumph, he extended his elbow out to nudge Argus in the side; another handful of almonds readied to be thrown up. Regardless of whether the young man wanted to partake, Henri lobbed them up into the air and watched them cascade down upon his guildmate. He was practically hanging off the edge of his seat in anticipation. He could feel Meredith’s disapproving glare boring into his soul.
Bullet and Zhulie Pesta
This stranger was rather perceptive. That, or Bullet just wasn’t very good at hiding. His shoulders slumped when he realised it was probably the latter. Standing up from his lackluster hiding spot, Bullet moved to stand beside Zhulie whilst trying to ignore the pain in his side. The last thing he wanted was this stranger to take advantage of his weakened state. Though from all accounts, she didn’t seem threatening.
“We didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just a little suspicious of visitors, is all.” He shrugged, taking note of any weapons on her person. Zhulie was much less skeptical, bounding forward to get a better look at the stranger; who had since introduced herself as Regan.
“You really don’t know where you are?” Zhulie giggled, clapping her hands together with gleeful delight. “This glade is home to our guild, Wolven Pyre. Oh and these ruins are the Tribunal! See, our guild was once a Witches Coven and-” Zhulie’s history lecture was cut short by an abrupt hand clasped over her mouth. Bullet pulled her back to his side and shot a nasty glare her way.
Don’t run your mouth to strangers so easily. Just because she didn’t give off any odd vibes didn’t mean she was trustworthy. Clearing his throat, he turned back to Regan and folded his arms across his chest.
“You aren’t trespassing, but there are people who inhabit these woods.” He lifted his chin to gesture towards a single lantern leading to a forest trail. “If you follow the lamps you’ll be able to make your way through the woods without hassle.” With that, he had resigned himself to the conversation being over and began to turn away from Regan. His companion had other plans in mind.
“You can’t just send her on her way!” She objected, skipping back beside Regan and locking her arm in hers. “You must come visit our guild! We can replenish your supplies while you rest and eat. It’s not safe to travel without taking a break, you know?”
Bullet was stopped dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to see Zhulie practically escorting the woman. How could she be so naïve?
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to be inviting strangers to your home, kid?”
“My name’s Zhulie, by the way.” She had completely ignored Bullet. “Grumpy pants over there is Bullet. Don’t worry, we aren’t all sourpusses like him.” She glared at her older friend. Contrary to Bullet's standoffish nature, Wolven Pyre wasn't the kind of place that would just turn away visitors.
Priscilla Duran
Priscilla’s eyes glazed over a map of Magnolia whilst she enjoyed an invigorating cup of espresso at a quaint bakery overlooking the river that ran through town. The journey had exhausted her. She was grateful to have arrived ahead of schedule; thus giving her a moment of peace before the Guild Master’s meeting. Scanning the map, she spotted the Phoenix Wing guild hall clearly marked for the convenience of any travelers seeking the wizards for assistance. Yet it was not the guild hall she needed to find, but their master. She removed an object from within her robes, holding her closed fist over the map. A silver chain coiled around her hand, securing the intricately carved quartz pendant that hung to it as Priscilla released her grip. She stared at the delicate sway of the pendant; taking notice of the circular motion it made around the guild hall on the map. Drawing in breath through her nose, she closed her eyes and focused her energies on the map. In her mind she repeated the name of the one she wished to find.
Jamie Beltras. As clouds parted to reveal the light of the sun, a clarity filled her mind and presented her with a vision. A large pair of doors, a staircase, and then doors leading to an office. Divining someone’s specific location was not an easy feat in most cases, but Jamie’s energy was practically overflowing around Magnolia and the guild hall. It made sense, given she was the master. It just meant Priscilla had an easier time latching onto it. Opening her eyes, she stored the pendant away and folded up her map. Leaving behind a few jewels to tip the wait staff at the bakery before departing. She made her way through town, taking note of all that had changed since her last visit many years ago. She didn’t often have the chance to leave the Glade. This trip was indeed a breath of fresh air, even if it was business.
Approaching the familiar doors from her vision, Priscilla watched a young man accompanied by a cloud enter the guild hall. His outlandish and exaggerated expressions prompted a slight raised eyebrow.
Perhaps a newcomer? His excitement was contagious; even she found herself giddy at this chance to finally meet the Guild Masters of such legendary guilds like Phoenix Wing and Dragon Fang. She only hoped Wolven Pyre would one day be a name that incites hope as they do. Following behind him, she pushed the doors aside to find a hall packed to the rafters with rambunctious wizards. The energy inside the hall was intense; in the best way possible. So much positivity, love and comradery.
Priscilla moved through the hall with the certainty of someone who was very familiar with the building’s layout. Though this was her first time inside the building. Her earlier spell had made it clear where she ought to go, so there was no need to disturb anyone as she made her way up the stairs. A particularly loud group caught her attention - something about a battle? She’d heard this lot had a tendency to get rowdy. Disregarding it for now, she continued up the stairs and made her way to the office doors from her vision. She rapped her knuckles against the door to alert whoever was inside of her approach. Pushing it open with a turn of the handle, Priscilla was now face to face with the master of one of Fiore’s strongest guilds.
“Pardon the intrusion,” She approached the desk Jamie was working at, closing the door behind her for privacy. “My name is Priscilla Duran, I am the master of Wolven Pyre.” Lowering herself into a polite curtsy, the witch then held her hand out in greeting to her fellow master.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Jamie Beltras.”
Bullet and Zhulie Pesta
On their way back to the guild hall, Zhulie had stopped to listen to the rustling of leaves as though something had caught her attention. Oblivious to the shift, Bullet sauntered along with a hearty yawn, looking over his shoulder to see his companion dead in her tracks.
“Keep up, kid! I’m starving.” He yelled, holding his hands against the low rumble of his stomach. He paused when he noticed Zhulie hadn’t said anything in return; turning around to find her face to face with a great, brown furred wolf. His eyes widened in horror, lunging forward with his fists at the ready as he went to call out to her.
“Zhulie get dow-!”
“It’s okay, Bullet.” She interrupted with her arm outstretched at him, her other hand scratching the wolf behind its ear. “She’s one of Priscilla’s wolves. Aw, who’s a good girl? Yes you are!” She was practically squishing it’s face together while it’s tail wagged in delight. Bullet’s fists were still tensed, a bead of sweat dripping down his face.
These damn witches and their pets. His pride was a little hurt that he’d failed to sense the wolf before Zhulie. He really had gotten sloppy over the last month - his senses were usually much sharper than that.
The wolf gently nudged the side of Zhulie’s face with her nose, turning around to point in the direction of the Tribunal.
“What is it girl?” Zhulie looked into the forest, wondering what she could be warning of. Without warning the beast took off that same way, stopping to look back at the pair with impatient yelps.
“Think she wants us to follow her?” Bullet pondered. Truthfully he’d rather be back to the hall getting some grub, but his time at Wolven Pyre had taught him not to turn his nose up at nature when it was offering assistance or needed help. All those damn lectures from Priscilla were starting to sink in it seemed.
“Maybe there’s someone in the glade?” Zhulie suggested, beginning to walk after the wolf. “The wolves usually keep Priscilla informed of any intruders, but she isn’t here today.” The pair followed after the wolf, leading them back to the tribunal and directly in view of a middle aged lady who seemed to be passing through.
Huddled behind a bush, Bullet observed the stranger for a moment before whispering into Zhulie’s ear.
“I think they’re a traveler, we should let them be-”
“Hey! Miss! What are you doing here?!” Zhulie called out, stepping forward to greet Regan while Bullet sat with his jaw to the ground. The wolf nuzzled up against him, expecting a treat for her service to the guild. Bullet turned out his pockets with a shrug, prompting an annoyed huff from the beast before she bounded off into the glade and out of sight.
Henri Baptiste and Meredith Clagnan
“Maybe I should try working out. . . but I'm not out of shape, and muscle just doesn't build on me. . . uggggh.” Meredith offered a sympathetic pat on the head as Argus slumped down onto the bar counter. Looking over at Henri, she used her free hand to first gesture to him and then to poor Argus. He pointed a finger at himself with a puzzled look on his face. What was he supposed to say? Meredith’s glare grew fierce as she gestured one more time. Throwing his hands up in acceptance, Henri hopped over a few stools to sit next to his forlorn comrade. He gave him a hefty pat on the back while he whinged about his lady troubles.
“Ah, come on Argus!” Henri cheered, beaming from ear to ear. “Plenty of scrawny lads like yourself are in happy relationships.” Meredith suppressed a scream, pressing her fingers into her temples while mouthing a harsh ‘what’ to Henri. He shrugged his shoulders at her, thinking his words endearing enough.
“What Henri means to say is,” Meredith stepped in before Argus’ self esteem could become shattered further. “Your looks aren’t the issue when it comes to your courting woes. Lydia isn’t some prize to be won with smooth words and debonair charm. She’s a person. Simply put, you’re trying too hard.”
“How is that any better than what I said?” Henri practically winced at Meredith’s harsh assessment. Telling Argus he was overeager was just as bad at pointing out his lithe build. Meredith shrugged.
“I’m just being honest. The best way to a woman’s heart is to be genuine. However,” She began to rummage through her shelves, huffing under her breath about some misplaced vial.
“Ahah!” She exclaimed triumphantly, lifting a small, red bottle from her stash. “I knew I still had some left. Nothing like a little aphrodisiac to really get things going.”
Henri stood up and reached for the vial, but Meredith’s grip was surprisingly resilient for someone of her age. The two struggled to seize control from one another for a good while.
“You are not giving him that!” Henri couldn’t believe Meredith would even suggest it. What happened to treating Lydia like a person? Slipping her a love potion didn’t line up with his idea of respectful courting practices.
“Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud! This stuff landed me my second husband.” Throwing an empty glass at Henri as a distraction led to Meredith being able to wrest control of the potion. The pint struck him right in the center of the nose, sending the larger man reeling back over his stool and to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Besides,” Meredith began, tucking the little vial away. “There’s only a little left and I can’t create anymore on my own. I have to save it for one of my gentleman callers.” Henri was finished with this conversation. He stood up and sat back down next to Argus and leant in to offer a bit more words of encouragement.
“I’m sure Lydia will settle down after a while. Maybe next time you see her you should apologise. Try being genuine like Meredith suggested.” He slung a friendly arm around the younger mage's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him with some brotherly affection. “Plus, you’re always welcome to come train with me if you want to work on building some extra muscle.”
Bullet and Zhulie Pesta
The Tribunal | Silverbranch Glade
The forest held a suffocating stillness so palpable that one could almost slice through it with a blade. The glade was not known to be a place of silence; often filled with the chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects and rustling of leaves as woodland critters strode past. Yet today, there was quiet. So much so you could hear a pin drop. That was before the next loud crash, emanating deep in the heart of the Silverbranch Glade, cut through the emptiness. The trees swayed from the shockwave of the blast; their leaves falling still just in time to be disturbed by another in the series of loud disruptions. No doubt it was this noise that had caused such an uproar among the creatures of the woods. Frightened and disturbed, they fled from their homes in search of sanctuary elsewhere in the glade. At the center of the commotion was the Tribunal - the sacred punishing grounds once used by the Daughter of Hecate to pass judgement among those who broke coven law. Now repurposed as a training and battle grounds for the members of Wolven Pyre.
Bullet stood amidst falling dust and smoldering embers, inhaling sharp breaths as though they would be his last. The carnage of his latest training session surrounded him. Burn marks scathed the stone walls of the arena; wooden training dummies lay broken and scattered across the grounds. Bullet’s Hellforged Gauntlets were still smoldering with smoke and ash, hanging meekly by his side as he barely had the strength to raise his arms.
One more time, he grit his teeth, forcing himself to step forward and raise his fists back up in front of his face. Yet as the young brawler made an attempt to dash forward, he was stopped by a sudden jolt of pain up the side of his torso. Crumpling to the ground with an exasperated grunt, he was barely able to catch himself by holding out one of his fists to the ground. Once the pain subsided somewhat, he raised his arm to inspect the bandages around his ribcage. They were stained red.
“Your wounds would be healed by now if you would just do as you’re told and rest.” The young girl's voice startled Bullet to alertness, pushing himself up with a sharp turn on his heel to face the source. It was Zhulie, a young up and comer of the coven with an obnoxiously infectious sunny disposition. She also had made a habit of sticking her nose into Bullet’s business ever since he had been taken in by the witches after his embarrassing defeat at the hands of a chimera.
“Buzz off, kid.” Bullet snapped, tenderly nursing his sore spot. “Just ‘cause Priscilla’s not around to nag me doesn’t mean you get to take her place.” He didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful for all the help he’d received from the Guild Master over the last month. Truly. Yet sitting around all day doing nothing was starting to get on his nerves. He had grown slow, weak and frail. It was time to start regaining his strength. Zhulie balanced along the edge of the Tribunal’s walls, her arms outstretched to keep her upright.
“I’m just saying, if you’re so eager to get back into training you may want to follow Priscilla’s advice.” Zhulie folded herself forward into a handstand, shuffling along the edge with a pleased grin.
Show off, Bullet huffed, rolling his eyes at the acrobatics display.
“I mean, no offense, but Priscilla is the wisest woman in our coven. And you’re... “ Zhulie eyed Bullet up and down before suppressing a snicker.
“Oi” Bullet smirked, sticking his tongue out at the child - who returned the gesture in kind. He’d be lying if he said Zhulie’s company over the last month had been a total nuisance. It was that persistent optimism - it had a way of drawing you in. He was about to offer some form of snide retort that no doubt would have sent the pair into a bickering match, yet the pain in his side began to throb once more. Wincing through grit teeth, Zhulie hopped down from the wall and made her way over to Bullet.
“I’m fine.” he assured her, holding his hand out as if that would stop her from worrying for him. “Fine, you win. Let’s head back to the guild hall.” Zhulie looked relieved that he’d finally listened to reason, skipping ahead to the stairway that led up and out of the Tribunal.
“Of course, Meredith is going to kill you when she finds out you’re not in bed.” She giggled, disappearing over the crest of the stairwell and into the forest. Bullet rubbed his temple. It seemed he had failed to consider what that dusty old crone would do to him. She had threatened to chain him to his bed numerous times if he refused to follow Priscilla’s instruction.
What a pain, he groaned, following after Zhulie at a slower, relaxed pace.
Henri Baptiste
Wolven Pyre Men’s Bathhouse | Silverbranch Glade
Henri opened his eyes to the rhythmic dripping of water. Like the accurate ticking of a metronome, each drip was perfectly spaced from one another in a comforting pattern. The perfectly timed ripples spread through the darkness, his body suspended in the deep abyss. All around him was pitch darkness, the dripping piercing the silence along with the gurgle of bubbles that escaped his lips with each breath. As far as he was aware, he was still in the bathhouse, but at the same time he wasn’t. Submerged beneath the surface of the water, Henri had projected his consciousness into the deep. The intense pressure paralyzed him in place; only able to observe the endless darkness. The words of Priscilla ran through his mind;
Intention, Henri. He closed his eyes again and tensed his entire body, releasing his magic in an attempt to manifest a sign of any kind. Yet despite his best efforts, he felt nothing. Relaxing his body, he released one final breath whilst repeating the incantation that would return himself to his body.
Spiritus Reditus, he thought it three times whilst picturing his physical body where he had left it. The third time he opened his eyes, letting the natural light from the open air bathhouse flood his vision. The water was suddenly warm again and the deep pressure had lifted from his flesh. Sitting up from the tub, Henri drew a deep, satisfying breath of fresh air. Leaning on the side of the tub, he rested his head against his arm as a wave of nausea washed over him. Divination was still a struggle for him, and he found his attempts at astral projecting into the deep were bearing little fruit. No matter how hard he tried to manifest it, all he ever saw was pitch darkness. He soaked for a little while longer before deciding to dry off and get dressed for the day.
Henri Baptiste and Meredith Clagnan
Meredith had been wiping down the counter when Argus entered the guild hall with her latest shipment. She watched the young lad struggle under the weight, but ultimately manage to get everything set down.
“Here are the tonics from town that you wanted Ms. Meredith.” Meredith approached the shipment gleefully, excited to finally restock her shelves.
“You could've told me it'd be so heavy tho, felt like I might've pulled something hefting it all the way here” She rolled his eyes at his complaining. She swore she mentioned that it’d be best to bring a partner to help bring the goods back, but perhaps it slipped her mind at the time. She noticed the young man had a mark on his cheek that he quickly tried to obscure from her view.
“Oh thank you Argus! I was just about running on empty.” Prying open a box, Meredith didn’t hesitate to begin to sort through the contents. A few potion reagents, tonics and drinks for the bar. Walking back behind the bar, she began to shelve a few vials and bottles away before turning back to Argus.
“Care to explain that lovely little mark on your face then?” She began to garnish a crystal tumbler with some thin slices of cucumber, pouring a shot of gin over the ice and topping the cocktail off with an elderflower infused tonic water. She slid the glass over to Argus before, raising her own shot in cheers before throwing it back down her throat in one mighty swig. She set the glass down on the counter with a sharp, satisfied exhale.
“A little early to be hitting the sauce, no?” Henri descended the stairs, tussling his hair dry with a towel. He was feeling quite fresh after a nice hot soak and a clean pair of clothes. He’d arrived just in time to see Argus returning with the shipment.
“A little late to be turning out of bed, no?” Meredith retorted, mixing up a dark and stormy for him. His favourite - rum, bitters and ginger ale. Sliding it across the counter, Henri planted himself on a stool before raising the glass in appreciation.
“Touché. Cheers.” He took a deep swig, glancing sideward at Argus.
“Been getting into scraps have you, mate?” He swirled the contents of his glass, making mention to the comment he’d overheard Meredith make about the mark on his face. “Hope you paid ‘em back for it.”
“Somehow I feel it was more one sided.” Meredith chuckled, about to pour herself another shot when Henri snatched the glass away from her. She shot him a look of pure poison, to which he simply clicked his tongue with a smug smirk plastered across his face.
Wolven Pyre Guild Hall | Silverbranch Glade
The light of midday broke through the thick, verdant canopy of the guild hall, streaking a natural radiance among the few members of Wolven Pyre as they went about their business. Men and women occupied the oak tables, their pint’s heavy with ale and bellies’ with laughter and merry jaunts. Witches accompanied by their familiars set about their various tasks for the day; their mage friends happy to lend a hand and vice versa. Coiled up at the bar was Nigel, Priscilla’s familiar. The boa constrictor usually accompanied the Guild Master wherever she went, but had been left behind to observe the guild in her stead whilst she attended the Master’s Summit in Magnolia. He slumped his head low and appeared to be quite forlorn; as much as a reptile physically could. If he could speak, he’d probably lament being separated from his mistress for so long. Though it would seem he would have no need of words to express such a sentiment.
“Oh, cheer up would you ol’ Nigel?” Meredith chirped from behind the bar counter, stirring herself up a well deserved noon martini. It was five o’clock somewhere, after all. “It is a testament to Prissy’s trust that she would feel comfortable to leave you behind. Try not to dwell on it.”
Nigel drearily slithered to face away from her, a low hiss escaping him. Even if it were the case, it didn’t change how he felt about the situation. Meredith took a sip from her drink, rolling her eyes at the sheer dramatics one snake could produce. She spied a few mages eyeing off the job board in the corner of her eye. A fruitless endeavor, unfortunately. As predicted, the mages shook their heads in frustration before sauntering back to their seats to find some way to pass the time.
It’s to be expected. Meredith sighed, finishing her drink in a single, well practiced swig. Despite Wolven Pyre’s official inauguration as a Light Guild over a month ago, it seemed the public’s view of them had yet to change much. The jobs trickled in pathetically; barely enough to keep the wizards who relied on them afloat. People just weren’t open to the idea of trusting a group of witches. It would take time to build it up. Meredith knew this, yet she couldn’t help but feel wary of their future if the jobs didn’t start to come in. Already a handful of new members had decided the guild to be unworthy of their time, setting off to find more popular guilds. Of course they’d always have their loyal members; the family they had built before the guild’s inception. All it would take would be one big job, something to put them on the map and draw attention to the good deeds of both the witches and wizards who called these halls home.
Nigel stirred as a small flame sputtered and danced beside him. The black candle had been lit by Priscilla on her departure and she had assured Meredith that she would use it to notify the guild of her arrival in Magnolia town. It would seem their esteemed master had sent the sign. Nigel slowly lowered to the ground, shifting through the guild hall towards the stairs that lead to his master’s chambers.
Meredith decided she may as well get comfortable. Today seemed as slow a day as any. She was content to lounge around and wait for something interesting to happen. After all, one never does quite know what to expect.
Chucking down a couple of NPC's for Wolven Pyre
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