fdeviant

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Cast

Witching Hour

Part III

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada, The Witches Stronghold
Time: 11:59 p.m., Present Day

---

A sharp chill ran through the Earth, the blood of lost brothers staining hearts with visceral remorse. Tears collected in the eyes of the unknown, threatening to make these dry lands completely barren. The once lively halls of the Witch-Mother’s Stronghold, a deep temple of elegant marble and golden brandishing, was reduced to ash and rot, visibly in mourning of the lives it had lost. There Medea lie in wait for her mistress’s return, plotting and scheming her revenge on the Hounds.

Soon enough, a dark mist overtook the grand halls, coalescing into a feminine mass just above the scrying pool at the room’s center. Hekate’s pale features emerged from the shadows, arms wide in a welcoming embrace to her beautiful daughter.

”My love,” Hekate beckoned to Medea, drawing her into her arms, their warmth a momentary reprieve from the cold depths of sorrow.

”My Lady,” Medea leapt into her arms, head nestled against Hekate’s neck. They were truly like mother and child. ”I thought you might not return to this pit of waste. How dare Barron call you away in our time of need, the fool.”

Hekate smiled, cupping Medea’s head in her left hand, the right wiping away slow tears and running through her auburn hair.

”Now now, Medea. I have placed myself at Mr. Vanderbilt’s disposal, and given our most recent tragedy, he was right to call upon me. There is much he and I have left to discuss, but worry not. You and I will not soon be parted, there is far too much work to be done.”

Leaving Medea’s side, Hekate waltzed over to the farthest corner of the temple room. This was the inner workings of the Five Families of Las Vegas, A central stronghold meant to house their combined secrets, the greatest of which happened to be Hekate, the Witch-Mother. Inside her dwelling, Hekate possessed all manner of witchly artefacts and curios relating to the Five and their long histories. A sprawling library of magical literature, both practical and theoretical, a collection altars dedicated to the Craft and its many forms, a station for alchemical experimentation and ritual conjurations, and a central pool used for divinatory purposes.

In this corner, however, there lay a large desk filled with papers and random knick-knacks obtained from Hekate and Barron’s informants. At the top of a stack of files, Hekate found a field report detailing the damages caused in the recent Hound attacks on Pixy Stix and the Adessi clan. Next to these were two items of import: a broken iron cross with esoteric engravings, and two dented bullet casings set in silver, each producing a faint glint of something Otherworldly.

”A mage from the Wyrdhouse delivered those while you were away.” Medea joined Hekate, staring down at the upsetting configuration of death, reduced to names on a sheet of paper. ”I told her that you were busy, but she seemed quite adamant that you see these right away.”

Hekate held a ghastly expression, mouth agape, hands quivering, a mixture of fear and rage pooling in her core.

”My Lady?” Medea spoke sheepishly, taking note of Hekate’s stance.

”H-H-How?” Hekate spoke in a whisper, voice beginning to shake. ”I thought they had been destroyed, no, I made sure of it . . . How in the name of Zeus did those impudent, disgusting worms manage to slither their way out of Tartarus to defy me again!”

Hekate flew into a rage, tossing her arm over the table, sending everything sprawling onto the floor. When she caught the glint of the cross and the silver bullets, she made a fist, causing the items to spark violently before reducing them to ash.

”My Lady, what is it? What’s wrong, who are you talking about?” Medea confusedly reacted to Hekate’s enraged display of emotion.

Hekate calmed herself, reigning in her rage and fear. This wasn’t the time for an outburst. Swift action was required lest more lives be taken. She took Medea by the shoulders and led her to the scrying pool, sitting both of them down on its ledge.

”Very few remember the tales, for few who met their gaze survived,” Hekate began, her tone low and serious. ”They were a plague forgotten by history, one which I helped to eradicate myself. They swept over the land with great efficiency, dwindling our numbers in the Old World by the hundreds. I had thought their order long dead . . .”

Medea looked into Hekate’s eyes, recognizing the sheer terror therein, something she had never seen in those eyes before. It mimicked the fear and panic she’d felt from her days in Corinth. .

”I have scarcely seen you like this, My Lady. Of whom do you speak?”

Hekate’s voice remained low and grim.

”The most notorious band of witch-hunters to ever curse this Earth . . . The Winter Court.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Witch Hunt Cast

Augury

Part 4

Location: Smithy’s Grocery Store, Meat Isle – Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: Late Evening, Present Day

---

How much could Marie possibly endure? How overwhelmed must she be in the pursuit of her lost memories? What other difficulties need present themselves, and why, before she had achieved her goals? These questions filtered through her mind as her already unstable environment slowly unraveled and devolved into pure chaos. It felt more than she could take.

A searing pain shot through her skull, sending her vision into a flash of hot red and flashing lights. Among the fading sights and sounds of Smithy’s were a collection of figures she hadn’t seen before; men in strange dress holding dated instruments of war. They chanted and bellowed, their screams melding with the unruly wolves and deafening whispers of the Gentry, creating some infernal cacophony that sent Marie spiraling into madness. She placed both hands on her head, trying desperately to will away the invading apparitions.

Holt made an attempt to pull Marie back, to calm her with his presence and cooling words, but to no avail. Everything she had known was gone, all that she had worked for was in jeopardy, and absolutely nothing made sense anymore. The more she dwelled on it, and she had no choice but to entertain these intrusive thoughts, the more pain she felt, the more rage boiled inside her until suddenly the world seemed to melt away. And then . . .

”ENOUGH!”

Her cry sent the world into violent motion, the word dripping with an old, familiar magic. It washed over the store and all its visitors, lashing out wherever it could. The glass casing behind the meat aisle shattered, jagged shards falling with quickened pace. Shelves and their contents fell to the floor. Lights flashed with momentary light before bursting, bathing all in dull sparks. The floor beneath their collection of bodies began to crack, threatening to give at the slightest step. But after this outburst, once the rage had been allowed to escape, Marie seemed her old self once more.

”Marie . . .” Holt said allowed in a raspy voice, conveying shock and surprise in his emotionless way. Assuming the form of a large black dog, not dissimilar from the shapes taken by Marie’s wolf companions, he padded over to her side, soulless eyes staring deep into hers.

Marie did not look at Holt, instead turning her attention to the Ambassador.

”I accept your offer.” she uttered plainly and resolutely.

Holt moved between them to show his disapproval.

”Marie, I implore you to think . . .”

”I already have.” Marie interrupted, turning to face Holt, eyes red and heavy with tears and desperation.

”She’s right, Holt. We have devoted too much time to this for it to fall apart now. I’ve done so much to get to this point, and to think that Gwyneth is so close . . . I can’t throw that away, not now. This isn’t a game anymore or some fanciful dream. I need this. I thought you would understand . . .”

Before Holt could respond, Marie stepped around him, closing the distance between she and the Ambassador, choosing to address her directly. Now only a few steps between them, Marie did something strange. She removed the charm around her neck, her features now clear to all around. Her eyes met the Ambassador’s as she spoke.

”You’re right. Even if it hurts me to say it, you’re right. What happened with J . . . Joseph,” Marie struggled to say his name, voice heavy with a mixture of anger, guilt, and sorrow, ”that was on him. He should have known the consequences of meddling and conjuring something he had no hope to control. You were more cunning in the end, you bested him. It still stings, but I can accept that. Just as I can accept that we’re connected. I have to see this through and if you’re the only way to do that, so be it. I’ll try to make it as pleasant an experience as possible.

“But this,” Marie gestured to the mess around them, to the Dover twins readying for a fight, to the wolves locked in a struggle against Mandate, to the whispering Fey who watched in amusement, ”This has to stop. All the fighting, the threats, the murderous looks, the creepy comments, all of it. And it has to come from all of us.” Marie turned to her comrades, addressing each of them with a look before placing herself between Ben and Mandate.

She knelt down, peering deep into Ben’s eyes as she had done before, bidding him listen to her but speaking loudly enough for all to hear.

”You promised to help me if I helped you in return. I know it must seem like I’m digging a bigger hole for myself, choosing to trust someone who has threatened people you care about, who’s killed someone I once cared for. It doesn’t make much sense, but i need this. I have to know about my past and as it stands, you two are the only ones who can help with that. We can make this work, I promise.”

Marie leaned to place a hand on the side of Ben’s head, trying to use her emotion to send him a mental message like he had sent her the first time they met. She was clearly distraught and filled to the brim with longing. She hoped that he would receive her message well, for everything about her now, her posture, her words, her touch, they all conveyed a single word.

Please.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Witch Hunt Cast

Augury

Part 3

Location: Smithy’s Grocery Store, Meat Isle – Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: Late Evening, Present Day

---

Marie chuckled as she watched Benjamin eagerly huff the packages of meat, his eyes widening in hunger and anticipation with each stride past a different succulent cut. It was a little macabre, she admitted to herself, but it was equally amusing seeing a young wolf so enamored with an otherwise mundane sight.

The three of them, Ben, Katarina, and Marie, or maybe four counting Holt, engaged in small talk during the brief ride to Smithy’s, Marie taking in the lights of the Vegas strip the entire way, Ben being stoic as ever, and Katarina curiously commenting on every building and billboard they passed, acclimating to the modern world a little more with every observance.

Not long after their arrival, the trio was met by the group of siblings, Yeong and Ji striding quickly ahead of two strangers. Marie caught a few glares from Yeong while cautiously greeting the hired help, a pair known as the Dover twins. They were metas, unlike the rest of the group, each of whom possessed some supernatural talent or affliction, and their presence reminded Marie of her time in West Virginia. It had been some months since her last meeting with a metahuman, let alone two. She only hoped that her time on this “team” would fare better than her last.

And then it all fell apart.

The first body to fall was a woman picking up assorted cheeses just behind Marie, then a janitor putting down a wet floor sign. One by one, every normal denizen of Smithy’s was rendered unconscious by an eerily familiar ethereal mist.

Marie, Holt spoke from Marie’s shoulder in an incorporeal form, I know this magic . . .

Before he could finish, the place went dark, emergency lighting quickly buzzing to life in the wake of the blackout. The soft light falling from the ceiling was just enough to illuminate the tops of shelves and cast a pale glow on the laminate floors, but shadows crept up in corners, collecting in pools that shifted unnaturally.

The Fey, Marie thought, looking around, allowing her vision to shift focus that she might see beyond the illusion of darkness. As a witch of great skill, the Sight came naturally to her, but it hadn’t been trained in some time. For now, all she could make out in the dark were pale apparitions of varying sizes, all gathering around a central figure.

”Bonsoir, ladies and gentlemen.”

The voice rang like falling nails to Holt and Marie. They knew this woman’s identity long before she introduced herself, the touch of her magic carrying a familiar sting to Holt, her presence sending shivers down Marie’s spine. This was she; the vile harpy, the fetid wench, the loathsome bitch that took Joseph from them.

Marie burned with seething rage, The Ambassador’s words adding fuel to her fire. She ignored the sorceress’s comments, engaging in a mental debate with Holt while she and her minion spoke.

She felt the touch of witches fire the last time we met. Even with her new toys, I doubt she’s a match for us.

Hold fast, Marie. You are not the first to underestimate the Ambassador. Joseph believed himself invincible when last they fought . . . and it was his end.

He was alone, Marie’s thoughts were heavy and sharp, cutting at whatever sensitivities Holt possessed, but I’m not. I possess Gwyneth’s power, I have you at my side, along with three wolves, an elder vampire, and two metahumans. What can she . . .

Hubris. Holt interrupted. You hold a portion of Gwyneth’s true power and are accompanied by two strangers whose strengths you do not yet know, a vampire with no knowledge of the modern world, two temperamental young wolves who care not for you, and one fledgling wolf whose transformations are brought on by any amount of strenuous activity. In fact.

Holt pointed a wispy claw at Ben, who had doubled over in pain much like before in the museum. All these sights and smells, the strange appearance of the attending fey, creatures he had likely never seen before, as well as a giant magical construct and the sudden mystically induced sleep of dozens of humans; it was all clearly too much for him to handle so early in his transformations.

Marie looked at him, wincing at his screams and contortions.

You . . .you’re right. Marie quietly responded, attention shifting between the Ambassador’s slow approach, Ben’s ongoing transformation, and the female Dover going over some half-assed plan of attack. We’re not ready for this . . . but I can’t let get away with what she’s done. Put some distance between us, surround the Ambassador in flames like before.

Holt nodded, floating down from Marie’s shoulder and charging through the ragtag group towards the Ambassador, ignoring the fey at her aid. But as soon as Holt reached their group, as he felt the flames of Marie’s rage engulf him, ready to envelop the enemy in enchanted fire, he stopped, staring down the Ambassador and her faery familiar, unable to advance.

Holt! Marie issued another mental command, but the result was the same.

I-I cannot. Holt responded in frustration, stuck between the opposing groups, his only choice to retreat. Something stands in my way . . . I can do nothing against her. I sense no barrier or ward that hinders my path, I can do nothing.

What the hell is going on? Marie wondered. She lifted her left hand, casting it in the Ambassador’s direction with a small flourish, small sparks falling from her fingertips meant to spout flames that would entrap she and her comrades. But as they neared the faery entourage, they vanished, withered away in the air.

It was the same as Holt, Marie’s magic hadn’t failed, it just couldn’t touch the Ambassador. If there were a ward or some other protective magic in place, Marie would know, Holt would see it, they could find some way through it or around it, but this wasn’t the case. What was stopping them?

And then she felt it. A familiar pull, a silent song that called to her in a faint voice like her own. A piece of Gwyneth was near. Then she remembered, the smallest fragment of a memory drawn forth, a meeting that she had attended with the Ambassador, yet this was only their second time seeing one another. How had she known where to find Marie? How could she protect herself without detection? Why . . .

”That bastard,” Marie spoke aloud, moving around the Dover twins, filing in front of a kneeled over Ben. She was acting on a hunch.

”What did you give him?” Marie questioned the Ambassador, words coated in venom. ”How did you manage it, huh? What could possibly . . . it doesn’t matter. If what I think is true, then you can’t hurt me either, none of you can.” Marie gestured to the Ambassador, Bach, Mandate, and the fey surrounding them. ”Not if she orders it.”

Marie spoke loudly and slowly enough for the others to hear, hoping that this revelation, if proven true, would halt her compatriots from acting on impulse and engaging in a fruitless battle.

As much as Marie wished to end the Ambassador for her past transgressions, other things were at stake.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Cast

Puck’s Ward

Part III

Location: Shadow of the Moon Occult Curiosities – Chinatown, Lost Haven
Time: 1 p.m., One Day after Present

---

Horse and Hattock, Horse and go,
Horse and Pellatis, Ho! Ho!

The words echoed through the shop, followed by the low howling of wind through crevices in the wooden frame.

Tout tout, a tout tout,
Throughout and about,
Here and there, hence and thence!

A dull ring sounded like the tiny jingle of chimes or twinkling of bells, heralding the arrival of some faerie creature or the beginning of a work of the Arte.

Fair is foul and foul is fair,
Hover through the fog and filthy air!

Each charm added to the potency of the last, the long string of trasnvection formulae weaved together to invoke the witch’s powers of flight.

Madalena sat astride an alder branch fitted with dark bristles recently collected. In the storage space behind Shadow of the Moon, she watched as her feet began to slowly lift from the ground. She had done it! With some luck, Madalena had achieved full levitation. Her sense of wonder was quickly interrupted, however, by a sharp bump on the head and a heavy plop on the concrete floor.

”GAAH, Goddamiit!” she cried, rubbing her head and setting herself upright. She examined the broom to make sure it wasn’t broken, then her leg to search for a sprain. Her priorities were a little mixed up, but she had taken hours to fasten all those twigs into bristles and she didn’t want to go through the trouble a second time in less than twenty-four hours.

That’s what I get for flying in doors . . . and on the clock. Madalena mentally scolded herself, propping the broom against an empty shelf and making her way into the main store.

Her bargain with Puck had gone over well. After signing his book, she was given a stack of books related to Old World witchery and magical lore, as well as a splitting headache from the knowledge Puck had imparted directly. It wasn’t much and she would certainly need to do her research to fill in the blanks, but it was enough to give her some extra leverage over the Hounds when they came knocking.

Of course, Madalena did what any other aspiring witch would do first, or so she imagined, and went straight to the flying ointments. She’d seen too many stills of the White Witch not to want to experience such a thing first hand. It had taken her only a day and a half to induce complete levitation, but actual flight was a different matter entirely. Madalena hadn’t the courage to attempt full flight. With the threat of the Hounds still looming, she thought it best to practice such magic in private . . . or at least behind a locked door.

Madalena positioned herself behind the register, thumbing through a few small journals Puck had left. Most were written, at least in part, in some foreign or mystical language with which she was now familiar, but it was still exhausting trying to mentally translate everything. Instead, she looked for pages and titles that stuck out. Her skimming was interrupted, however, by the familiar ding of the bell on the entrance and heavy footsteps.

Madalena was confronted by the sight of five darkly clad, armed men barging into the store and moving hastily to her place behind the counter.

This is it, she thought anxiously, this is what Puck prepared me for. I have to stay calm, I have to hold my ground.

Madalena continued to coach herself as she stepped out from behind the counter to meet the leader of the small group, much to his surprise. She stood with her arms tucked behind her back, legs straight, sporting a welcoming smile.

”Well met!” she greeted the Hounds as she would any other customer, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster despite how internally distressed she was. ”What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

The men positioned themselves strategically about the store, stopping when Madalena greeted them. They looked at each other and laughed, the leader, a tall man in slightly bulkier body armor and face fully obscured, stepped forward, mere inches away from Madalena.

“Well now, what’s this? Hospitality?” the man’s muffled voice shook Madalena to her core. She knew that she shouldn’t be intimidated given all the protections the Puck had promised, but she couldn’t help herself. Knowing that she had the means to defend herself wasn’t enough to rid her of the fear of confrontation.

”Of course, you’re my guests aren’t you? What kind of owner would I be if I didn’t warmly greet my customers. Speaking of, isn’t it a little hot to be walking around in all that black? A moon and star print skirt or black mesh blouse is one thing, but you’re all decked out head to toe. Do those chafe?” Madalena rambled. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be overly chatty, though her nerves were likely driving this conversation.

“You picked the wrong day to come into work, little miss. It’s about to be a lot hotter in here than in this armor.” The man readied his weapon, signalling for his men to complete their mission. One by one they began turning over displays, smashing statues and trinkets, dousing tapestries, rugs, and robes in accelerant.

Their leader backed Madalena into the counter.

“Must be sad to watch all your hard work go up in flames. Maybe you should stay here and go down with the ship.”

He tripped Madalena and fastened a cuffed her left hand to a heavy display case by the register. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her.

W-what do I do? her mind raced, searching for an answer. They had been more forceful than she anticipated. She wanted to believe that they would go easy on her if she cooperated early on, but now she could see that Puck was right. They didn’t care if she posed a true threat, she was just in the way.

”WAIT!” Madalena cried as one of the men took out a lighter. He lit it without looking over to her. She would have to show more conviction. ”I can help you, you know! I can’t do any magic myself, but it’s my job to know about it! If-if you let me go, I-I-I can give you information! Yeah, I’ve heard some things from customers, I’ve read about magic for years, I could b-be an asset, please!”

Madalena was genuinely pleading for her life. Puck’s promises did little to comfort her despite knowing that he would hold up his end of their bargain. Fortunately, Madalena’s desperate cries were to her advantage.

The Hound leader ordered his men to halt their destruction, turning to Madalena and kneeling down in front of her. He held her head level with his, staring into her eyes through thick goggles that hid his own, then dropping her chin and turning back to his men.

“What do we think boys?” He convened with his group.

“You can’t trust the bitch, she’ll say anything,” one replied.

“Yeah,” another agreed.

“I don’t know, the General told us she was harmless,” the third member spoke up.

“And he has been lookin’ for informants . . .” the last member chimed in.

“Well then,” the leader said, walking over to Madalena. “I guess today’s your lucky day. It just so happens that the Witchfinder General needs the lowdown on bitches like you.”

He unfastened her restraints, then shoved a simple, black, flip phone into her hand before signalling his men to leave the shop.

“We’ll be in touch. Oh, and I wouldn’t leave town if I were you . . . he’ll know.”

He slammed the door with enough force to shatter the lower glass pane. The few shelves that remained relinquished the last of their displays onto the floor, shattering them instantly. Shadow of the Moon was a mess, but it was still standing and Madalena was still alive.

She slumped down onto the floor and let out a long sigh, fighting back tears. If ever there was a time to cry, to let out her frustration, now seemed most appropriate. But Madalena was tired of crying, she was tired of being taken by surprise. It may not have gone the way she wanted, but she had succeeded and was mostly unharmed.

”I did it.” Madalena whispered to herself, head turned up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Phase one was complete, but she dared not think of what was yet to come.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Cast

_{Photo Credit: Tree Demon by disse86}

Puck’s Ward

Part II

Location: Shadow of the Moon Occult Curiosities – Chinatown, Lost Haven
Time: 11 a.m., One Day after the HoH Broadcast

---

”I have a proposition for you.” The words rang ominously through the shop.

Puck stood over Madalena, who was as backed into the counter as possible, hands covering her mouth to hold in the ear shattering scream that followed Puck’s sudden appearance. He kneeled down, pulling a handkerchief from his suit jacket and softly wiping away the tears streaming down Madalena’s face.

She wasn’t sure how to respond. This creature, whatever he was, seemed amicable enough, but Madalena wasn’t an idiot. She’d read plenty of old folktales on the subject of strange spirits offering aid to humans, and the name Goodfellow stuck out to her, but she couldn’t place it.

”W-w-what d-do you want-t?” Madalena stuttered between quiet sobs. This wasn’t like her. She was normally far more boisterous and hardened, but she wasn’t normally confronted with strange men with horns barging into her store and demanding her aid . . . well, not since last Samhain, and those men were at the very least human.

Puck continued wiping away stray tears, placing his other hand on her shoulder to calm her. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown that caused her to sit still and not object or pull away from Puck, but Madalena slowly but surely ceased her sobbing.

”There now,” Puck uttered softly, putting away the kerchief and helping Madalena to her feet. ”Forgive me, love. I did not mean to frighten you. I forget sometimes that your kind are not accustomed to my entrances, and with all that has transpired as of late, I can only imagine what horrors you expected to befall you, but fear not.”

Puck took a step back, giving Madalena plenty of room to move. He gave a formal bow, showing his regret and respect.

”It’s a-alright,” Madalena sniffled. ”Who . . . who did you say you were again?” Madalena asked more as a courtesy than anything. She remembered the name he had given her but hoped that hearing him speak it again might jog her memory of it.

”Robin Goodfellow,” Puck was quick to reply, ”but perhaps you know me by my more informal alias, Puck.”

That did it. Immediately, Madalena recalled the stories she’d read of Puck under the name Goodfellow. He was regarded an elder spirit among medieval witches, a witching god from the ancient world. His reputation has a trickster and a faery were well known to those witches, but these stories weren’t made popular until Shakespeare wrote him into A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He looked different to the wood carvings and New Age illustrations Madalena had seen of him, but perhaps this was the modern guise he wore.

Madalena, recognizing Puck as a powerful and important entity, clumsily bowed in return.

”It’s an honor, Mr. Goodfellow. B-but, I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.” Madalena looked at him in confusion, gesturing to the contents of her store. ”I’m sure this isn’t anything you haven’t seen before, and I’m not really any sort of witch so I’m no. . .”

”That’s precisely why I’ve come, Madalena,” Puck interrupted, ”to ignite that cunning flame and invite you into the true witching world.”

Madalena was stunned. Years ago she dreamt of such a fate, but the idea hadn’t crossed her mind in almost ten years. Back then, when she first took an interest in the craft, she dreamed of doing the impossible, of wielding powers held by the witches and sorcerers of legend. She even favored the witches of old Disney films just because they had the power to do what they want. But as she grew older, she met many new age spirituals and Wiccan authors who turned her mind away from such flights of fancy. She gave up on being a practicing witch, opting instead for the more attainable goal of daily enlightenment and invoked positivity. She saw the old craft as her peers did, an antiquated and often violent means of shaping the world. Until recently, she wanted nothing to do with it, but everything changed once she met Marie . . .

Madalena let that thought be taken over by another one: Why me? To her knowledge, she had done nothing of note in the past few months, no acts of magic, no strange dreams, no dragon slaying. So why had she, of all people, been chosen by Puck to receive such a gift?

”Well, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Goodfellow,” Madalena replied hesitantly, speaking slowly in case her words made Puck angry. ”But can I ask, why? And not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but in exchange for what . . . sir.” she threw on the last bit of her reply to show her respect.

Puck grinned, sending a chill down Madalena’s spine.

”Ah, I love it when the mortals are self aware. Makes things more interesting.” he said, moving around to the other side of the counter across from Madalena and placing his elbows on top, leaning forward slightly.

”The truth, my dear, and it is a harsh truth, is that you were not my first choice.”

Madalena tried not to be hurt. She hadn’t expected something like this to happen to her at any point in her life, why should it bother her if she were only second or third in line for some grand mystery?

”However,” Puck continued, ”you came highly recommended by a mutual friend and an employee of mine, the person I would have chosen for this task in your stead had she not been busy. A certain Marie Hartford.”

It all made sense.

Madalena had known for months now that Marie was the White Witch. A failed robbery on Shadow of the Moon some time ago revealed Marie’s secret. She used her magic on the intruders, confirming Madalena’s suspicions. The two proceeded to have a conversation about Marie’s time as the White Witch, leading to her eventual hiatus from Shadow of the Moon. Madalena wouldn’t fire Marie for being absent, nor would she let Marie flat out quit. Madalena stubbornly and with as much sass as she could said to Marie on her final night “you’ll be back.”

The two rarely spoke after that, and now it made sense why. If Marie had been doing god knows what for Puck this whole time, and under the mantle of the White Witch no doubt, she wouldn’t have the time to work for or speak with Madalena. She felt as though she should be grateful to Marie for mentioning her to Puck.

”So if Marie told you about me, and you’re only just now showing up, I’m guessing it has to do with the Hounds of Humanity, right? Only other reason I can think of that you’d be desperate enough to recruit someone like me.”

Madalena was feeling a little more brazen now that the connection to Marie had been established. She didn’t imagine that Puck would her if Marie were involved.

Puck’s grin grew wider.

”Indeed, that’s quite the detective work there,” Puck responded sarcastically. ”But don’t sell yourself too short, my dear. Even without my gifts, you would be involved. As we speak, the Hounds are planning an attack on your little store on the morrow. But this should come as no surprise. Given your reaction to my appearance, I’d say you were expecting them.”

Madalena could feel herself becoming emotional again. What could she do about the Hounds?

”Why would they want to attack me?” she exclaimed, crashing her fists into the countertop. ”I haven’t done them any harm, I can’t even do magic! I don’t understand . . .”

Madalena turned her head down, but Puck caught her chin and gently held her eyes level with his.

”It does not matter what you have or haven’t done, my dear. It’s what they think you could do that frightens them. The Hounds are terrorists, and terrorists, no matter their origin or creed, are thieves and cowards. They take what they believe they are owed, they claim superiority, they destroy their opposition not to send a message, but because they are afraid of what will come if their enemies are allowed to live. I have lived in the world of man long enough to read their fragile minds, I recognize their goals and ambitions, I see them for what they are.”

Puck leaned in closer, his face almost touching Madalena’s.

”And that, my dear, is why I need you. Because for all my intuition and all my powers of foresight, something about them eludes me. I can see the destruction they will leave in their wake, but I cannot see what causes it, nor if there is a way to end it. So I need someone to be my eyes and ears, someone to who can move freely among them, someone who they won’t see coming. I need you, Madalena, because you pose them no threat, only their image.”

Madalena move back slightly, a puzzled look crossing her face.

”Wait, I don’t understand. If they’re gonna kill me regardless of whether I’m an actual threat or not, how can I do anything for you? And if I don’t have any actual power to stop them, how do I keep myself alive?”

”It is as you’ve said. You’ve done them no harm, you have no power. The Hounds will know this upon arrival. As random and indiscriminate as their attacks appear, they are more targeted than the public realizes. You, to them, are no real witch. You service and supply witches with your wares, which is enough for them to turn you into a monster in their narrative. All of this,” Puck motioned to the entire store, ”is an affront to everything they stand for. They will destroy it on principle, but they will know that you possess no real power, and that will be to your advantage.

“If you plead your case to the Hounds when they enter, offer them your knowledge of the occult in exchange for your life, they will have no choice but to accept. For all their efforts, there are some things one cannot know about the world unseen unless one is intimately involved with it, and that is where I come in. I shall grant you greater knowledge and true power, powers the Hounds will not know of because you did not possess them until now, that can be used to deceive the Hounds once you have infiltrated their ranks. It is a dangerous gamble, I admit, but know that you would have my full protection should you agree.”

Madalena fell to the wall behind her, slumping down onto the floor in thought. This was too much to take in at once. Puck seemed confident that he knew the Hounds well enough for his plan to work, but Madalena didn’t share this sentiment. But even if she didn’t, did it matter? If she agreed, she would have power like Marie, and with all that she had read about Puck, she imagined that whatever defenses he could offer would likely be more than enough to keep her safe from the Hounds long enough for her to get away from a dangerous situation. Another worry crossed her mind, what happened after all of this was over?

”I don’t know,” Madalena voiced her concern, ”I mean, assuming all of this goes down how you’ve said, then what? I can only get so close before they realize something’s up. What happens then?”

”A reasonable doubt,” Puck responded cooly, moving around to the other side of the counter and kneeling down to her level. ”It is true, the powers I offer come at a price. A bargain must be made, but upon the completion of this task, however far to completion it comes, you will not lose your power nor your place in the witching world. To be initiated into the great witchcraft is to be forever changed, my dear. There is no turning back. It is a bond I cannot break, nor would I wish it broken.”

”And if I say yes, do we shake hands, does lightning strike me and I fall into a deep sleep? How does this work?” Madalena questioned, her old sense of humor finally surfacing.

Puck chuckled as he stood up, holding out his arm to help Madalena up a second time. He lead her over to the counter and wave a hand over the top, an oversized, tattered, black-leather bound book manifesting from a spout of flames and dark smoke with a flash that left Madalena momentarily dazed. Puck flipped through its pages, landing on a blank page near the middle.

”If you agree, you need but sign your name here . . . then all the world shall be yours in return.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

The Fall of The Five

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada, Temple of Aradia
Time: 5p.m., Present Day

---

Roman Adessi waltzed through the entrance of Erodiade, the original restaurant in the chain that had spread all across Nevada, with plans to expand into the west coast. Erodiade was a hit the moment the foundation was laid, catering to a wide audience of folk from all walks of life. By day, this location served authentic, quality Italian fare from Roman’s family cookbook, even sourcing out a few of its imported ingredients to artisanal chefs for a modest price. But by night, this Erodiade was home to one of the largest covens in the western United States, a member of The Five Families of Las Vegas, witches of the Adessi line, loyal followers of Aradia one and all.

As the last few patrons passed by, Roman was sure to shake as many hands as he could, modestly accepting the many compliments given by satisfied customers. The restaurant was usually open until nine, but tonight was special, and Roman needed time to prepare. Once the last person had left, the store was closed up for the night, the day staff graciously sent home for the evening with compensation for their lost hours. With the final click of the employee exit came an ethereal wind, sweeping over every inch of Erodiade, carrying subtle sighs and giggles from unseen visitors.

Roman smiled as the daemons danced about the restaurant, acting as the night staff, taking dirty dishes and silverware to be washed, sweeping and mopping the tables and floors just by placing an elegant foot or hand on their surfaces. A tall, darkly clad woman stepped out from the kitchen, a large platter in hand. On it were a variety of sweet and savoury treats, freshly baked for the attending spirits. As soon as the dish was placed, the household spirits greedily whisked away the luscious breads, pastries, and goblets of wine. They danced with merriment, bidding Roman to retreat to the temple housed below the store to begin the night’s devotions, and so he did.

Opposite the kitchen and the main dining hall was a small office where Roman often sat and performed administrative work. Inside were all of the usual decorations, a couch, a desk with chairs on both sides, table lights and other shelf top clutter. But behind the desk sat a large, ornate painting of a woman holding a star. Roman walked over to the painting, bowed his head, and uttered the soft prayer.

”Saluti, Erodiade. Il tuo fedele servitore, Roman Adessi, cerca rifugio nel tuo tempio.”

A low rumble sounded through the office, followed by a loud creak. Roman looked up, the painting of Aradia sliding over the wall to reveal a hidden door, a passageway that led into a cavernous, marble temple below with witching tools strewn all about and a large, rectangular altar at the center which held a magnificent statue of Aradia.

Walking freely around the temple were witches dressed in ritual garb, some moving sunwise about the altar with censures in hand, fumigating the area for ritual work, others tracing the markings on the floor around the altar with swords and staves, invoking the elements and the attending spirits. It wasn’t often that old world witches performed such elaborate workings, but Roman needed the ceremony for such an occasion.

“I trust that everything is ready?” He questioned a young man, no older than sixteen, who stood near a supporting marble pillar.

The boy turned and nodded.

“Y-yes, Mr. Adessi,” he stuttered, nerves shot both by being in the presence of his coven’s leader and by the responsibility that had been placed on him. “The last of the wards are being placed as we speak, and the initiates are being dressed after their ritual baths.”

“Excellent,” Roman responded, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Dustin. This ceremony is perhaps our most important, I knew I’d left the preparations in capable hands.”

Dustin smiled brightly before turning to review a list of his duties. His part in this ritual was a test, one that he had passed with flying colors.

Just as their conversation ended, a string of men and women were led into the altar room, all dressed in white and blindfolded. There were twenty in total, each being placed in a specific space before the altar. Roman walked over to the group, standing on a raised platform that sat opposite the statue of Aradia. He motioned for each of their blindfolds to be removed, then proceeded with the ceremony.

“Greetings, initiates.” He greeted them in a booming voice that echoed through the temple. “All who stand before me have been issued a number of harrowing trials to be where they are now. You are the best of the best, the most promising, most devoted individuals from a long list of hopeful recruits. You will make fine witches. And tonight, witches you shall become, witches of the Adessi line, witches in service of the great mother, Aradia!”

“Erodiade!” the surrounding witches cried out in response.

“Now is the moment of your awakening,” Roman continued, motioning for a chalice to be offered to the initiates from the altar. “Drink of this elixir and receive Aradia’s blessing, become one with the Adessi line.”

As soon as the first initiate took up the chalice, a loud scream sounded from upstairs, closely followed by the cries of dozens of ethereal voices.

Roman turned to see a host of spirits flocking to the temple, fleeing from some unknown assailant.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded.

Before the spirits could answer, a thunderous explosion tore through the temple, shattering the wall between the upstairs restaurant and temple below. Droves of men in black body suits came rushing down into the temple. Gunfire followed their arrival.

The witches retaliated the best the could, those closest to the intruders vaulting behind pillars and statues, bidding the flames from surrounding torches to leap from their sconces and block the assailants’ path. The witches seeing to the initiation joined hands and began a low chant, the air around the altar faintly shimmering. Witches ran into the arms of the ward, some with minor scrapes, some bleeding profusely from deep wounds. Meanwhile, the gunmen continued their attack, bullets bouncing off the barrier around the altar.

Roman moved to the front of the barrier and forcefully raised both arms, the front group of assailants being thrown upwards in response. He then turned to the statue of Aradia and incanted:

”Erodiade, essere con me!”

The statue of Aradia responded, marble limbs and features moving with grace and fluidity. Her body turned in the direction of the masked gunmen, outstretching her arms in an elegant pose. The assailants who had been knocked to the ground began to writhe in pain and thick boils and pustules erupted onto their skin. A few others seemed stricken by the curse, but still they marched toward the barrier.

A tall man in heavier armor stepped forward from the crowd, pulling out a large rifle. He fired a single shot into the barrier and watched as it passed right through, piercing Roman’s left shoulder and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

“They work!” he yelled to his team, who all seemed to pull out a separate magazine for their weapons. By this time, none of the remaining gunmen were affected by Roman’s curse, protected by some unseen force. They fired into the barrier once more, this time each bullet passing through, taking down lines of witches with ease.

Roman cried in pain, slowly moving behind the altar trying to seek refuge in another part of the temple. Unfortunately, the gunmen’s bullets managed to damage the circle around the altar, weakening the warding spell enough to allow them access. They began beating down the defenseless witches, many they killed instantly, some they injured and knocked out. Roman look up at the larger gunman, the last thing he saw was the underside of the man’s boot before he fell unconscious.

When he came to, Roman was tied to a large stake hastily built atop the restaurant. He and the initiates were crowded around the large wooden beam, bits of wood and straw piled up at their feet. He and the others had been gagged as well, and all far too injured to concentrate on some act of witchery.

“I hear you were some sort of celebrity,” the tall gunman stepped forward, holding Roman’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet. “Guess that’s how we found you so easily. It’s a shame too. Your food was pretty damn good.”

The man dropped Roman’s head which fell instantly. He was too weak to look up, too weak to make even a whimper.

A crowd of men poured accelerant over Roman and the initiates, then over the splinters at their feet. They stepped back as their leader pulled out a lighter.

“Burn, witch.” He said dryly, tossing the lighter into the fray.

Immediately their bodies caught fire, as did the ground beneath them. The restaurant was soon to follow, men filing down from the roof and throughout the building, throwing burning lighters and makeshift torches into the gasoline lined walls and floors.

On the street outside the restaurant the men left their mark, a name scorched into the pavement, the only fiends capable of such heartless murder and destruction:

The Hounds of Humanity.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Cast

_{Photo Credit: Tree Demon by disse86}

Puck’s Ward

Part I

Location: Shadow of the Moon Occult Curiosities – Chinatown, Lost Haven
Time: 11 a.m., One Day after the HoH Broadcast

---

Panic

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.

Oh, get over yourself, girl! 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. Just turn the damn sign and get this show on the road.

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. Magic Circles in the Grimoire Tradition, 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.

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

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.

C-Could he be a customer? 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.

”Ms. Hawthorne?” 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.

”I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. My name is Robin Goodfellow,” 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.

”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 . . .” 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.

”I have a proposition for you.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Witch Hunt Cast

Augury

Part 2

Location: Lachance Stronghold Exterior – Henderson, Nevada
Time: 2 p.m., Present Day

---

Marie and Holt arrived at the Lachance Family Stronghold after an hour of searching. It was well hidden even in the desert landscape along the lakeside, likely the work of protective enchantments. The exterior was just as the faeries had described, an unassuming shack with broken boards falling from the windows, slightly obstructing the view from the outside, rusted tin palettes running along the side of the building, some propped against the eroded wooden walls, some actually nailed to the roof to cover large holes that had been left by years of neglect.

The interior wasn’t much better. Inside were several dusty, rotten shelves and tables with crooked frames and broken legs, just stable enough to support what few artifacts still dared to fill them. The curtains were faded and moth eaten, flowing in the breeze that poured in from exposed areas in the ceiling and between boards in the walls. It came as no surprise that the floor was little more than arid dirt with a few bits of tarp that were likely blown off the walls and ceiling during a storm.

Marie moved carefully over the debris, dusting off the bottom half of her dress after rubbing against the wall to avoid stepping on shards of glass from an adjacent window.

”Is this really the entrance to a witches’ stronghold?” Marie uttered skeptically as she made her way to the only other room in the shack, hidden behind a door that, like everything else, was falling off its hinges and bearing holes that spoke of past conflict.

Holt remained atop Marie’s shoulder as a raven, eyes scanning the room for anything of interest.

It is certainly inconspicuous, much to the witches’ delight I’m sure.

Marie nodded.

”I guess it makes sense. Who would think to disturb the remains of something this far gone?”

She carefully moved the door to the side, which let out an unnervingly high-pitched squeal as the hinges fought to fold in on their rusted nails. The other room looked much the same as the first, but with less dust. At the far end a large sheet had been draped over what Marie assumed was the mirror spoken of by the fey.

Sure enough, as she peeled back the white sheet, Marie unveiled a tall, ornate oval mirror with beautiful golden vines snaked around its outer edges. Next to the mirror was an end table, atop which was an inscription in a language Marie recognized but couldn’t name.

”What is this script?” Marie asked Holt, tracing the inscription with her fingers.

An old fey dialect used in the lower regions of France. The witch hunts in France brought to light many of their ancient traditions; you would likely have seen this in one of the books in Puck’s collection.

Marie took a closer look, soon realizing that she did indeed recognize the old dialect. To her surprise, she effortlessly recited the inscription word for word, the sound of it like the rushing of wind through dense trees and the sharp crackle of lightning.

Suddenly, the mirror began to hum in response, Marie’s reflection soon replaced by the swirl of dark clouds. The clouds receded to reveal a long hallway with rows of doors on either side. There seemed no separation between the room in which Marie stood and the image in the mirror. Sounds and smells of this other place began to fill the desert shack. Marie turned to Holt whose eyes advised caution, but who nodded to confirm her silent inquiry. They stepped into the mirror and turned to see the shack fade into a reflection, the portal closing and becoming a simple mirror once again.

Marie turned to face a double door that stood at the end of the hallway, likely the dwelling of Genevieve Lachance or some large ritual/communal space for the witches. Unsure of how to feel in such a situation, she walked forward, broom in one hand, luggage in the other, and entered through the imposing door.

---

Location: Homewood Suites Hilton – Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: 9 p.m., Present Day

---

Marie strode into the lobby of the hotel, Holt trailing behind unseen. She masterfully hid herself behind a family bringing in their luggage so as not to be stopped by the desk clerk. It probably wasn’t unusual to receive the odd visitor to a resident or guest, but she wasn’t in a mood for too much unneeded interaction. She was feeling another strange mixture of emotions and wanted only to focus her attention on those who truly needed it.

Her meeting with the Lachance matriarch went better than expected. Marie expected that she’d be thrown out for her intrusion, but the witches welcomed her with open arms, commending her for her mastery of the craft and her ability to open the door to their stronghold. She waited in the glamorously decorated ritual space for around an hour before finally meeting with Genevieve.

The two had a long conversation about the recent Hounds attack, Marie taking the time to pass on the message sent by her fey informants. Genevieve, a relatively young woman to be a powerful matriarch, around 36 or so, received the faeries’ pleas warmly, assuring Marie that the Witch-Mother was hard at work finding a solution. They then held an in depth conversation of the Witch-Mother and her involvement with The Five Families, the conversation stretching on for so long that they had time enough for tea and dinner.

Marie was fascinated by the stories Genevieve told of how The Five had built their strongholds and how Hekate had managed to unite them in the past few years. Their history was astounding, and though Lady Lachance was obviously leaving out a few details, Marie was still in awe at their rise to power in Nevada. Their meeting concluded with an invitation from the witch to stay in the stronghold for as long as she needed. Marie was reminded of the generosity of the German witches in New York and that of the solitary witches of Lost Haven.

She was led to a lavish room by one of the Lachance heirs, a handsome boy around Marie’s age. That room put any hotel or luxury resort to shame and had far greater amenities. But that wasn’t all the night had to offer . . .

Upon receiving the arrival message from Ben, Marie fell into a trance, recalling an image of her early days. An intricate box formed in her mind’s eye, dubbed the “Sight” by Gwyneth’s echoing voice. When she came to, Marie realized that she had received a vision of Gwyneth’s next artifact, and this time the image was clear, albeit still incredibly vague, but she had reason to believe that she was on the right track, that Gwyneth’s “Sight,” whatever that may be, was near.

Now, pacing around the hotel lobby, Marie pulled out her phone and sent a message to Ben, informing him of her arrival to the hotel, though she assumed that he had likely felt her presence the moment she entered.

Whatever doubt she felt before in aiding Ben and the other magicians, at least now she had some incentive. Having Ben already in Vegas made the search for the next item that much easier, and her newfound relationship with the Lachance witches would give her access to the city’s magical resources, perhaps even an audience with the Witch-Mother herself.

Marie waited eagerly for Ben’s response, heart racing in dread, joy, and above all, anticipation.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Witch Hunt Cast

Augury

Part 1

Location: Marie’s Apartment – Chinatown, Lost Haven
Time: Noon, Present Day

---

Marie paced back and forth in front of the window overlooking the street, eyes still glazed with sleep, hair pulled back, still wet from the shower she’d taken in an attempt to invigorate herself and awaken her dulled senses. Her chase for Ben the morning before had left her exhausted and despite having expended nearly all of her energy during negotiations, Marie managed to stay awake the rest of the day, finally crashing at around 6 p.m. and waking at 8 a.m. Fourteen hours of sleep and yet still drained.

It made sense to Marie. After she’d returned to The Red Devil, instead of flying swiftly home and getting a well deserved rest, she hogged the workroom trying to get a hit on the next artifact. As she might have expected, her time was wasted looking through vague accounts of Gwyneth she’d managed to dig up months prior during her initial search for information. Not only was she unable to divine any relevant information about the next item, whatever it may be, Puck was nowhere to be found and thus could not offer his cryptic wisdom.

Even after returning home in what felt like an eternity, Marie was reminded of her long list of failures and misadventures. Her flat was littered with open tomes, scraps of parchment and paper she’d wadded up and neglected to toss, and minor charms and trinkets she’d attempted to use in various spells and rituals to locate anything remotely related to Gwyneth.

Holt, who lay dormant in an oil lamp-turned-spirit vessel at one end of the studio apartment, took note of Marie’s worried movements.

What is the matter? He questioned in his normal dry tone, moving from the lantern in the form of a thick mist and manifesting as a jet-black cat sauntering about the room. Surely you should count this as a victory. The boy agreed to help you, which means that you are one step closer than before. Much closer, in fact, given you now possess Gwyneth’s Eye.

Marie shook her head as she paced, eyes fixed on a park bench across the street from her apartment complex. She let out a heavy sigh as her first reply, and with it, expressed her deep sense of worry and unease.

”I know, Marie stood still as she spoke, gaze still glued to the scene outside, ”I know that everything should feel better now that I’ve got a little more direction . . . but it doesn’t. Even with the Eye and Ben’s help, I still don’t know what the hell I’m looking for, or where I should be looking. I can’t just carry the kid around the country hoping he picks up on something. And that’s another thing . . .”

Marie turned and faced Holt, lowering herself onto the floor, back against the window.

”I have to work in a team again and I don’t know if I’m ready for that, especially not this one. Ben’s the only one who trusts me. The twins are suspicious and the magicians want me dead, not exactly the ideal team. At least with S.T.R.I.K.E. I could be a little detached, but this is personal. I NEED Ben’s help, and he’s expecting me to be this picture of morality and atone for my sins.” Marie shook her head, spitefully letting out those last few words.

”Be honest,” Marie’s spoke to Holt in a low, somber tone, ”Is it wrong for me to admit that I don’t really care about my part in whatever Broker is planning? Sure, it’s probably something horrible and unimaginable, but we had a deal that both parties honored. Is it wrong for me to want to leave it at that regardless of the consequences?”

Holt met Marie’s gaze, brow furrowed and forming a stern expression with his feline features.

You are a witch, Marie. It is that simple. Your kind do not linger on such things as guilt nor trouble themselves with fanciful things like morality. Furthermore, it is not my place to comment on the desires or whims of my masters. Your goals became mine the moment I came into your service, but if it comforts you to know that I have aided past witches in far more sinister deeds than this, very few of whom had any regrets about such workings, then I will not hide that fact.

It wasn’t really the answer Marie was looking for, but it’s what she expected from a being like Holt. Though it did little to calm her nerves, Holt’s words comforted her all the same. She’d heard something similar before from Joseph and any reminder of the time they had shared was welcome.

Letting out another sigh, Marie lifted herself from the floor and began packing a small suitcase full of necessities. She imagined that Rune’s search would take some time and it was far more convenient to rest on scene than having to pop back in from The Red Devil every few hours. Puck had a few associates in Nevada, most notably a large coven known locally as The Five Families. With luck, she’d be able to find one of their meeting places or strongholds and rest there instead of spending a fortune on a hotel room.

Holt watched as Marie filed random assortments of clothes, toiletries, makeup, and witching supplies into her suitcase. He took mental note of their conversation. This was the change Puck had described, the slow descent he’d envisioned. Marie wasn’t acting like herself, or rather, she was acting too much like herself. Holt knew little of Gwyneth, but he knew enough about Marie to see the clear differences in her behavior within the past few months. Her obsession felt more to him like instinct. Whatever the case, he would help her as was his charge and continue to monitor her as Puck had instructed, though if Marie ever caught wind of it, he would be forced to do as she commanded.

With the last of her belongings neatly tucked away inside her suitcase, Marie readied herself for the trip to Vegas. She didn’t have the energy to try to put on too much face, opting for some simple pastel gloss and eyeshadow to make her look a little lively, as well as some strategically placed highlighter to catch the lights of the city. Once her hair was dried, she combed it out and laid it over her shoulder, covering one of the straps of a simple white sundress with a black belt, covering the top of her head with a similarly colored, wide-brimmed sunhat. Around her neck was the signature glamour charm to conceal her identity.

Once Marie was relatively pleased with her appearance, she took her suitcase in hand, grabbed a separate bag from her closet which housed her White Witch get-up and a few other witchy baubles, took her broom in the opposite hand, Holt tucked away inside the lantern at the broom’s mantle, and opened a door to The Red Devil which Puck himself had placed shortly after Marie signed on with him. From there, she entered another of Puck’s doors and left for Las Vegas, hoping to do a bit of sightseeing and establishing a base of operations before the others arrived.

---

Location: The Remains of Pixy Stix – Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: Noon, Present Day

---

Puck’s door opened to an alley next to the burnt remains of the Faerie club, Pixy Stix. Marie had been so busy as of late that she’d almost forgotten about the Hounds of Humanity cretins that had been terrorizing members of the magical community across the U.S. Marie bowed to the corpse of the building while Holt hissed at the HoH propaganda that littered the building's ashes.

We may encounter these fools while here, Marie. I would advise caution. They have already taken a group of witches in Salem. Holt issued the mental warning, perched on Marie’s shoulder as an ethereal raven.

Marie moved a little closer, staying out of the street and minding the police tape around the ruined entrances.

And they’ll pay for their actions dearly. They have no idea what they’re up against and I can’t imagine that the Faerie Courts of this world and the next aren’t planning some sort of revenge. Same with the American witches and sorcerers.

Marie spotted a few roaming sylphs and mourning fey women dressed in white. She didn’t want to approach them out of respect for their grieving, but she needed information on where she could find one of the Five’s sanctuaries.

Upon seeing Marie, the wandering faeries immediately flocked to her location, the sprites flittering about her head, one resting on the brim of her hat, the three tall fey, each with distinctly wild, animalistic features on their faces, circling around her in a sort of embrace.

Marie knew she was in no danger, she could clearly see that each of them meant no ill will, but she was surprised to receive such a welcome, especially considering she hadn’t done much work for the fey before.

Holt cocked his head, exuding a warmth that felt to Marie like joy.

”Welcome, my lady,” one of the fey maidens spoke quietly, her voice echoing on a soft, sweet breeze. She spoke in English, surprisingly. ”We wondered when your mistress might send one of hers to deal with the human filth who burned our loved ones.”

Marie was utterly confused.

”M-my mistress? I’m sorry, I think you may have me confused for someone e . . .”

”The Witch-Mother,” the fey woman interrupted, ”surely she sent you to investigate the matter?” She looked hopeful.

Marie’s jaw dropped. She was nearly floored by the mention of the Witch-Mother, how these fey spoke of her so candidly.

Hekate? Holt interjected. The Witch-Mother, Hekate, is here in Las Vegas?

One of the sprites overhead nodded.

”She’s been here for a few months working with The Five, noble families of witches who migrated west in the early days of the colonies. Are you not a member of The Five?”

Marie shook her head, even more stunned than a moment before. To know that Hekate was so near, physically interacting with such a large collection of witches, was amazing; it was beyond amazing. Not even Bucca was so open.

”I was unaware of the Witch-Mother’s presence, I’ve only just arrived in the area.”

The fey all looked rather dejected, obviously expecting Hekate to help them enact some sort of vengeance on the Hounds.

”But,” Marie added before they had a chance to leave, ”I do work closely with Puck and hoped that I might meet with a few of his associates in The Five. If you could point me in the direction of their strongholds, I might be able to speak with them on your behalf.”

It was a stretch, but it was all she could offer. Luckily, it was enough.

The sprites spoke with the fey maidens in an uncommon dialect, perhaps one native to the Americas or this area specifically. After a short concession, they turned back to Marie and nodded.

”Alright,” one of the sprites addressed her with a high voice, ”there is a small building near the lake in Henderson. Inside is a mirror that leads to the Lachance family stronghold. Genevieve Lachance is the most hospitable leader of The Five and will take in almost any stray witch to pass through. She will help you, but when you arrive, please inform her that we wish to hear from the Witch-Mother soon.”

Marie nodded in compliance.

”I will do just this, thank you for your help. And may those murderous bastards be dealt swift justice.”

The faeries smiled, hope filling their eyes. They left Marie’s sight in their own ways, some in swirling lights, some fading into the wind, some speeding off into the distance. One they had all gone, Marie issued a mental command to Holt to shield them from mortal eyes. The pair hopped aboard the broom, Holt perched at the front like the figurehead on a ship. As they began their ascent, black vapors poured from Holt’s body and enveloped them, causing them to be unseen. Off they flew to the Lachance stronghold.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@Crosswire I didn't catch the Gumball reference until I read the supporting characters, well done on that lol. It's not subtle but neither is it glaringly obvious.