fdeviant

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

The Three Witches

Medea’s Flight

Location: Aeaea, Capital of Colchis, Ancient Greece
Time: Midnight

---

Historians, philosophers, and tragic poets have long told the tale of my flight from Corinth. Most famously, Euripides wrote of my husband’s betrayal, my agony and longing, my deceitful murder of his bride to be, and the murder of our sons by my hand. None of this, however, is to be taken as truth.

Indeed, ‘twas I who dismembered my brother so that Jason and I could flee Colchis together, I who, with all my magic and cunning, gave Jason his fame, and I who, in my desperation, turned the people of Corinth against me. But it was my vile husband, Jason the Argonaut, who murdered his “beloved,” who slaughtered our children. Their deaths came by way of my craft, but were caused by his infidelity. And though it was common for Greek men to take more than one wife and custom for the first wife to sit idly by with his children and wealth, I neither was nor am a Greek. I am Medea, daughter of Aeetes and princess of Colchis, granddaughter of the Titan, Helios, and descendent of the mighty Gods, niece of Circe and sister of her mighty art, and humble servant of Hekate, the greatest of the immortals. I was no mere woman, no simple wife, but a witch. I would not be treated as anything other, but my damnable husband cared more for his culture than the one who pledged her eternal life and love to him . . . but I digress.

I wish not to speak of my woes, for those have been extensively documented by men of many creeds, but to speak of my ecstasies and triumphs that followed soon after. These same men would have me bounce from one city to the next; from Corinth to Thebes, from Thebes to Athens, always chased away by the denizens therein. Some say that I helped the famed Heracles escape a curse from the Gods, others that I became a being of worship in Iran and other places. There is some truth in this. I did happen upon the demigod in Thebes and did bear a son in Athens. And I did return to Colchis with that son, Medus, who slew my traitorous uncle that had usurped my father’s throne. But then what became of me? Poets lost their muses, the Greeks lost their faith, and so the mysteries of the ancient world were no longer scribed. Yet I lived on, blessed by the agelessness of my parentage and my craft, and so follows the story that has never been written.

---

“Two parts powdered mandrake, one part ground rosebuds . . .” Medea recited the formula from memory, dropping the reagents into a large, bubbling basin. Her auburn hair fell in tight curls over her exposed, pale shoulders. She wore a simple white tunic with a scarlet sash and went barefooted around the marble palace.

“Two crushed myrtle berries, seven drops lavender oil . . .” she continued, walking clockwise around the mixture as it boiled, dropping in each ingredient with care, stirring gently and taking in the sweet aroma. It filled the palace’s halls, grand structures built by the ensorcelled sailors who passed the island by, drawn in by siren song and bewitching nymphs, kept there in suspended age in forms alien and primal.

“And three strands of a maiden’s hair. Simmer, strain, bottle, and bathe in the Moon’s rays at the height of her ascent for three nights.” Medea did just this, setting the mixture on a balcony overlooking the sea, midnight cascading across the rolling waves, bouncing off the glistening walls of polished marble. Below, wolves howled in a jungle scene, but they did not run nor stir in excitement. Instead, they stood idle, on trace of the wild left in their veins.

“A love spell?” the question echoed through the halls and spires, rich, sultry, and highly melodic. In the corridor stood the sorceress, Kirke (Circe to the Romans), dawning a luxurious emerald fabric draped elegantly around her torso, a golden sash around her waist, with hair bright and golden like the son kept in place by a jeweled circlet. “Dearest niece, there are no men on this island, and the affections of the attending nymphs needn’t be gained by magic.”

Medea laughed as she moved about the room, resting on a comfortable bench near the balcony. “’Tis not for my personal use, but for a friend.”

Kirke scoffed. “Friend? What friends could you possibly possess?”

Medea looked hurt, briefly, then waved the comment away.

“Oh, I meant nothing by it.” Kirke apologized, sitting next to Medea and placing a hand on her shoulder. “But given your colorful past, I had reason to doubt that any would still call you their friend.”

“’Tis for the daughter of an old maidservant of mine. Her mother has taken ill and she hasn’t the money to see her well.”

Kirke squinted her eyes in confusion. “So you toil over a love potion instead of bringing the girl a medicinal salve or tonic?”

Medea nodded. “The mother did not wish it of me. She asked that I grant her daughter peace after her death, so I shall do both with one spell. I shall give the daughter this potion before her mother’s death, have her woo whatever prince or warrior she desires, and with his fortune, aid the sickly mother. All are happy.”

Kirke grinned. “How cunning you are, Medea. Quite the testament to our kind.”

“It is the work of our Mistress for gifting us such an art. To her I give all of my thanks and praise.”

The two took each other's hands, raised their heads, and closed their eyes, sending a silent prayer to the Mother of Witches. Soon after, a warm breeze entered the palace, bringing with it a piece of the night, a shadow given life.

“My beautiful daughters” the familiar voice emanated from the thick shadows, becoming a dark apparition, then turning swiftly into a most beloved form. Hekate had come to visit her most favored followers.

And so Medea and Kirke received her well, and the pair become a triumvirate of witches. They spoke of those things that were held in the night, their midnight arts and craft of the wise. They sang and reveled in each other’s company, dancing to the rhythm of the waves crashing onto the land and the dull roars of docile beasts. They flew above Aeaea with bliss and ecstasy, filled with all the powers of heaven, earth, and sea. Such was the witches way.

---

Such was our way in those forgotten days of old. Such was my night after my return to Colchis, the truest account of my flight from Corinth. This was how my days were spent after ridding myself of the loathsome Jason; in the company of those I held most dear. The next three centuries I spent here upon Aeaea, dancing the nights away with my aunt and our patron, selling my gifts to those whom I had known or those who knew of me. But eternity there grew tiresome.

So I traveled. Riding upon the sands of time I spiraled on in a different guise, stopping in each new century to sing the praises of my lady and grant the needy or willing the knowledge of her art. I led many a wyrd in those years under different names, inspiring new poets with my magic, becoming their muse. Such was my way until the new millennia when I once again longed to be held by my greatest love, my mentor and mother in the craft.

I sought her out and found her among her kind, and now we are together again. What magic will we unleash upon this new world? What is my lady’s greatest desire?

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Sixth Sense

Part 5

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon

---

Calamity . . .

That was the only word that aptly described the sheer and utter chaos that was now unfolding in the Museum of Natural History. Marie was left in speechless after the Efreet’s flight from the building, jumping quickly at his ascent, left in anger and desperation at Barron’s words, and left in perpetual worry for the kids trapped behind the vampire’s blood wall. Nothing was right. Nothing was easy. One act led to another, forever sending them all spiraling down into greater danger. Now, not only were they faced with the threat that was the vampire, Barron, but so too came the risk of exposure, which, annoyingly enough, worried Marie more.

As the alarm blared, Marie stepped closer, now much calmer but still quite rigid and firm in her stance and tone.

”Fine,” Marie called to Barron over the harsh echoes of the alarm, ”Go, we don’t need your help. We’ll figure this out on our own. You’ve done more harm than good, and I doubt Ben could calm down enough for you to help him anyway. Leave us.” Marie was almost pleading at this point, her voice shaking, brought nearly to tears by anxiety. She was panicking.

”Calm yourself,” Holt’s voice crept into Marie’s thoughts. He had returned to her shoulder, nestling his head against hers to provide momentary comfort. ”I’ll halt the alarm and bind the doors shut once the vampire leaves. Fear not, you will succeed in this and in your mission.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stop the tears and the shaking. Marie stood straight, waiting for Barron to make an exit. In the meantime, Holt kept true to his word. Flying over to the employee door, he dragged his ethereal claws across the door’s surface, shutting it and willing the alarm to cease. Museum security would soon be upon them, but he hoped that Marie and the wolves would have enough time to reverse Ben’s transformation.

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Sixth Sense

Part 4

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon

---

Marie let out a quick gasp as Barron began his bloody onslaught, blood rising from the grotesque pool of flesh left behind by Ben’s transformation and boring into the wall raised by the stranger. Holt placed himself between Marie and the fight that was sure to unfold, but the vampire’s efforts were aimed only at the wolves. Within seconds, all three strangers were encased in a cage of blood, drawing them in closer.

”Enough . . .” Marie mumbled, head facing the concrete floor. Rage coursed through her veins. This whole ordeal was taking its toll on her, setting her back from her goal. First a werewolf, then another, and now a confrontational vampire. Gwyneth’s memories were spiraling in the opposite direction while Marie and company stood at a stalemate in New York. It was all too much.

”Enough!” Marie screamed, head raised, malice filling every corner of the store-room. A cold chill began to spread over them all as Holt, responding to Marie’s mental cues, allowed his essence to fill the air, frost creeping across the floor, ceiling, and resting displays. Large tables and busts began to rise into the air, influenced by Marie’s anger. They circled Baron’s wall of blood, hovering menacingly.

”You,” she pointed at Baron, ”You just had to come along and make matters worse. Everything was falling into place, he was calming down, we were closer to a solution, closer to getting the hell out of here before you decided to rear your ugly head, but no! Nothing’s ever that easy! You waltz in, offering to help, and then you go all aggro on everyone just for the hell of it, I am so sick of these set backs.”

Marie drew closer. Despite the chill of the room, she carried with her a supernatural wave of heat, which passed through the wall of blood, bathing the strangers in it. An ethereal wind began to swirl around the room, the clashing elements and temperatures producing a low rumble.

”I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, and Elder-Breed Vampire or not, I won’t hesitate if you lift a hand to any of them. So you can either get over yourself and help us, or get the hell away from us. But I swear, make the wrong decision and you will regret it.”

Marie heard her words, she felt all of her movements, and yet there was a distance between her and her actions. Such a thing happened once before, the first time she felt Gwyneth’s true power, or a fraction of it, in the fight against the Silver Sorceress in Diplodoc’s base. She wondered if that was happening now, if she was tapping into that part of herself which she had forgotten. This confidence was new, rather, new to her. In truth, Marie’s confidence was over five centuries old, and it had made her far more brazen and transformed her into a greater threat.

---

Meanwhile . . .

Witching Hour

Part 1

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada, The Witches Stronghold
Time: Late Afternoon

---

Deep beneath the desert sands,
Below the mountains and arid lands,
Cracked Earth unfolds to a lively hell,
‘Tis here where all the witches dwell.

The Las Vegas underworld is far more literal than what its denizens may realize. Just beneath the sinners’ feet lies a haven for even greater sins. What rebellions take place on Earth are nothing compared to those that occur at its center, and the greatest rebellion of all, Witchcraft, finds a just as humble a home beneath the Earth’s surface as in her dense forests. It is here where the most noble reside and mingle, the leaders of the Five Families of Las Vegas, powerful witches and sorcerers whose influence spreads far and deep. They are the ones who support this city, who keep it aloft. And it is here, for now, where their queen resides.

Hekate, in her truest form, floats about a blackened room, walls covered in occult markings and lined with shelves upon shelves of arcane knowledge. This is her temple, her throne room, the center of her operations in the country. The circular room is host to other fantastical and ethereal features such as vines creeping along marble rafters, starlight reflecting from ornate mirrors forged in the Otherworld, a garden of poisons and herbs to fuel the witches pharmaka, their spells. But at its center lay something from a faery tale, a large well filled with light from a distant land.

”You are a smart one, Broker,” she whispers to the pool, perhaps calling to Greed’s mind, sending him a message of congratulations, or perhaps admiring his work. The well revealed pieces of his thinly veiled plan, a newly crafted Soul Stone hovering in the water’s reflection. ”To use lost souls in such a way is both commendable and deplorable, but either way, you have crafted a truly dangerous artifact. One has to wonder, what poor soul did you manipulate to create such an unholy stone?”

Hekate posed the question to the well, waving a hand over its surface. The water shimmered, a thick fog obscuring her vision. Curious . . . she thought. Reaching for a vial of dark liquid, a few poisonous herbs, and a small wand, she began to conjure a spell to peer through the wall of obscurity.

”Graeae, agents of Fate, hear me,” she began, tossing the herbs into the well, allowing a few drops of the black, viscous liquid to break its surface, and stirring the waters with the tip of the wand. ”Lend me your aid. I call upon your omniscience. Grant me your sight, grant me your Eye.”

As she spoke the invocation, the cloud began to peel away, a woman’s figure floating in the water’s surface. Her shape was clear, but her face was still unseen, masked by magic. Hekate was annoyed, but she watched the figure for a while, seeing what it was that made her so special. The woman walked into an ornate building, a museum, surrounded by elements of the craft. Hekate recognized this place as the Museum of Natural History in New York.

”She is but a simple girl, Broker, a lowly witch. How could she have performed and survived such an ordeal?” Hekate continued watching the scene unfold until something caught her interest. There was a spark, a surge of energy that even Hekate felt. She moved in closer, watching the woman take something from a display. When the two touched, Hekate noticed an invisible glow around the girl, a flash of something powerful. Interesting . . . she thought. I’ll have to keep an eye on this girl, but first I need to know who she is. And for that, I may need some assistance.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind that her chamber door opened, allowing a veiled woman to enter. Hekate almost raised her voice to the intrusion, but then she felt the woman’s presence, felt her longing heart. Hekate was touched, brought to the brink of tears.

”My dear, is it truly you? Have you come to stir my heart and ease my mind?” Hekate moved in close, feet touching the cold stone floor.

“Yes my lady,” the woman responded “It is I, and how I have missed your embrace.” She moved in close, engaging in a long hug with the goddess. Pulling back, the woman removed her veil, long, dark locks falling effortlessly onto her pale shoulders, flawless, rosy skin and supple lips kissing the goddess’s cheeks.

There stood the legendary sorceress, daughter of Aeetes, granddaughter of Helios, niece of Circe, and loyal follower of Hekate. There stood the witch, Medea.

Hekate smiled, pulling her in closer once again, happy to see one of the few true friends she had ever made. ”My dear, we have much to discuss.”

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Sixth Sense

Part 3

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon

---

Marie let out a sigh of relief as the pair reassured her of their connection to Ben and the knowledge of his wolf form. She wondered briefly how they managed to track him down, assuming that there was either magic involved, or they too were wolves in human guise. Marie eyed the female stranger as she let out a string of accusatory and generally hostile comments about Marie’s choice of venue.

”Right,” Marie shot back, still overwhelmed at having witnessed Ben’s transformation, ”Sorry that I wasn’t in my right mind, it’s not everyday that you get a fledgling werewolf dropped in your lap during a leisurely stroll through a museum, my bad!”

She was incredibly frustrated, but there was no sense in taking out that anger on a stranger and risk further upsetting Ben.

”Sorry,” she quickly apologized in a lowered voice, ”this was just so sudden, I wasn’t sure where else to take him.”’’

Just as the other girl spoke, the cavernous storeroom was filled with an echoed applause. Marie turned to find a tall, brute of a man in fine dress standing in the doorway. He introduced himself as Barron Vanderbilt, a name Marie might have heard in passing, but she clung to what came from his lips next.

”E-elder Breed Vampire?” she questioned Holt in her mind. He flew from his position between Ben and the others and perched himself on Marie’s shoulder, remaining unseen.

”The most ancient strain of vampirism. The Elder Breed are an elite race of beings with immeasurable power, almost god-like. He knows you for a witch as well, meaning he either possesses a similar ability to the young wolf, or can detect magic through other means. Be weary of this man, Marie.”

”Why are you here?” she questioned Barron, keeping her wits about her and maintaining an air of confidence, whether or not she actually possessed any in the moment.

He mentioned being able to turn Ben back into his human form, but Marie wondered how that was possible, or if it were possible. Then again, what choice did any of them have other than to hear him out? There was no chance of them sneaking Ben from the museum in his current state. Perhaps the vampire indeed held the means to reverse Ben’s transformation, if only for a time. Wanting to speed the process along, Marie gave in to Barron’s request.

She sighed. ”Can we really change him back? If so, how can I help?”

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

@LegionPothIX The benefit of having a sandbox RP like this is that it's fairly easy for anyone to jump in whenever, especially because everything that's already happened has little to do with each other's characters or the overreaching story as a whole. So far, everyone is focusing on their own arcs and characters, with a few collaborations along the way, so you haven't really missed anything.

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

@VATROU Is he gonna be a part of Witch Hunt or just this particular scenario?

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Sixth Sense

Part 2

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon, The Next Day

---

Marie watched in horror as flesh and muscle slowly peeled away from Ben’s cowering form, small pieces of viscera flying in all directions as he screamed in pain. There was such terror, such desperation in his eyes, his mind and hers once again melding to convey Ben’s helplessness. Marie sat there in the corner, deathly still, watching as Ben shed his humanity away, revealing the wolf with each gruesome motion.

After some time, the transformation was complete. Marie was still in shock, pressing herself against the wall with as much force as she could muster. W. . . what do I do? she wondered, panicking as the wolf inched closer, claws tapping on the floor, leaving the room echoing with a series of sinister clicks.

”Remain calm,” Holt cautioned Marie, reading Ben’s movements as he neared. There was something about his pace and mannerisms that reassured Holt, but such creatures were notoriously hard to read.

Marie shrieked as Ben lunged forward, closing her eyes and preparing herself for either the sharp clenching of his jaws biting down on her outstretched arm, or the sound of a distant whimper as Holt forced him away, but neither occurred. Instead, Marie felt Ben’s hot breath, followed by his wet tongue gliding across her face. She opened her eyes to see what looked less like a terrifying wolf, and more like a large puppy.

”Wha. . . where’s the man-eating monster I was expecting?” Marie said aloud in disbelief, resting a hand on Ben’s head who seemed to accept her gesture.

”Werewolves, as I’ve heard, are heavily influenced by their environments and experiences. They aren’t hyper aggressive as in their lore, but instead react accordingly to external stimuli like familiar scents.”

Marie got that feeling from Ben, that he enjoyed the smell of her. Marie assumed this was more than just her external smell. His reaction earlier to her made her think that he had smelled something like her before, and his attraction to her now confirmed her query.

”Holt, can werewolves smell or detect magic?”

”Hmm . . . I suppose it’s possible. There are different strains of lycanthropy that convey different powers and abilities to those afflicted. Perhaps this strain provides the ability to detect the presence of magic.”

As they spoke, the door to the storeroom flew open, two more teenagers filing in. Ben creeped forward, his movements suggesting to Marie and Holt that he might have known these two, but she also feared for them. What if Ben decided to become violent, what if these kids’ lives were in danger.

”Holt,” Marie whispered, ”be ready.”

Marie crept up behind Ben, Holt, still ethereal, placing himself between the pair of teens and Ben. He would materialize if he believed ben posed a threat.

”Just stay still and remain calm,” Marie spoke to the pair. ”I don’t think he’s dangerous, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

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

A small reminder, there's the list order and I believe it's fdeviant's turn.

@fdeviant, @Shard, @Luna and @Fallenreaper

@Fallenreaper

I'll try to have something up in the next few days but I have both schoolwork and packing to do for the holidays so I make no promises.

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Sixth Sense

Part 1

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon, The Next Day

---

Ben stood outside, his face obscured by his oversized hoodie and some sunglasses, as he raised his head to observe the museum. It was an iconic and large stone structure that reminded him more of a Roman senate building than a museum. Two large pillars sided the entrance while several individuals climbed up and down the section of stairs to go about their day’s activities, most appeared to be chittering families or friends.

It didn't surprise Ben if he was honest with himself. The museum often gained guests based on their newest attraction and the time of season, witches being a popular topic now a days. A thought crossed his young mind when he questioned the reality of witches existing. Considering he had met some of the strangest metas in his life and was no longer normal himself, the chances grimly increased in the witch’s favor. Giving a small sigh, the DA’s son pushed off toward the doors.

He brought a ticket, with money provided by his guardian, then shifted toward the bathrooms. Changing into nearly identical clothes within one of the stalls, he stashed his clothes into the bag where in the bathroom before making his exit. Ben gradually made his way to the witch exhibit, finally, where he assumed Skyler would be. Growling, Skyler had been nowhere to be found and likely won’t be for a long time Ben assumed.

Táph’s words still rattled in his head but he pushed it to the side, his attention turned inward as his eyes closed to center himself.

Odors swirled around his nose causing him to inhale deeply, his eyes snapped open in shock and continued to inhale. A familiar smell wafted into his nostrils causing them to flare deeper. It was a bit earthy, rich and a hint of bittersweet to it. His figure causally searched over the exhibit for the source until he finally settled upon a stone with a hole within it.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first annual guided tour on the History of European Witchcraft here at the Museum of Natural History,” the tour guide began, leading two large groups through a maze of exhibits featuring strange artifacts of all descriptions. Worn animal skin tomes with fragile pages, bone fetishes and clay poppets hammered with nails, dusty vials filled with dark liquid, rods, wands, and staves all inscribed with indiscernible lettering and forgotten scripts.

Marie followed the group closely, excitedly scanning each of the different cases and shelves. Surprisingly, she had passed through security without a problem, her long coat being taken as trendy rather than shifty. Holt clung to Marie’s shoulder in an ethereal form, trying to sense whatever magic might be laden behind the glass panes. Unfortunately, neither of them knew what to look for. After all, this was a witchcraft exhibit. Any one of these artifacts could have belonged to Gwyneth, and all of them, when used correctly, held power.

”This is hopeless,” Marie whispered to Holt as they wandered along the row of exhibits. ”My spell couldn’t have narrowed it down any further?”

”These exhibits are organized according to region. Might I suggest finding the section on English Witchcraft and searching for something from Gwyneth’s era?” Holt cooly replied. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, but Marie couldn’t help but take it that way.

She chuckled, ”The thought had crossed my mind, but there’s no guarantee it’ll have ended up in that section, nor that it will have been properly dated. We don’t even know what ‘it’ is. All Gwyneth gave me was ‘find my eye.’ She could have meant that literally or figuratively. Maybe she had a penchant for stealing sailor’s eyes, who knows?” Marie was growing frustrated. Gwyneth’s vision only helped supply the location of her missing “eye.”

Marie decided that, though it was obvious, she was better of starting in the English Witchcraft section, at least so she could cross it off her list of potential sections.

Benjamin’s hands pulled back his hood as he read the card marker over it. A witch stone. The information over it detailed it being used to see what couldn’t be seen by the mortal eye, namely the true nature of things, when one looked through the stone’s middle. Not sure why it smelt so different, he turned away in an attempt to ignore it and another strong whiff smacked into his attention. His eyes widened at the new, yet similar scent being emitted right before him.

His nostrils flared, drinking in the fresher scent, causing him to stare at the woman behind him. He knew his expression was likely confusion as his nose wrinkled, mentally trying to understand the scent. The impulse to lean in closer to the woman and just spend hours investigating the new smell grew in intensity the more he stayed near her. His fingers tightened over the bar separating the current tour from the exhibits, the tour guide prattling on about the history, while he resisted the instinct.

Marie leaned in closer to view the cases and the accompanying labels. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and nothing in particular called to her. Witch bottles, ladders, hag stones, they were all common pieces of folk magic that Marie had plenty of experience with, but had no reason to believe they belonged to Gwyneth. Holt too scanned the glass, but he was more preoccupied with the image of a youth leaning away from Marie. Holt took a closer look at the stranger, noting the flair of his nostrils and his overall strange mannerisms.

Holt tapped Marie’s shoulder. ”I believe the boy in front of you is having some strange reaction to your scent.”

”What?” Marie replied, quickly sniffing the insider of her coat and her wrists. She smelled of generic perfume, but nothing particularly strong. She certainly didn’t smell bad, she made sure to shower multiple times after her meeting with Broker. Marie looked over and, sure enough, the boy was acting repulsed by her.

Marie looked around for a moment, smelling the air to make sure it wasn’t something else before turning her attention to him and asking, ”Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

Ben panicked inside when the woman’s eyes fell on him. His figure tensed and fingers gripped harder, whitening briefly from the reaction. He studied her but found nothing that screamed magic on her person. She looked like a normal, average woman he would never blink twice at on the street. However, his nose screamed otherwise poking at his curiosity and need for answers.

Even more confusing was why that witch stone held her very scent when she didn’t appear to be museum staff or had helped set up the exhibits. She wouldn’t have bothered with the tour if she did.

He wanted to say nothing and quickly rush off, but that risked leaving him stranded here. He wasn’t about to walk home to face Lorrie’s wrath for being neglective. Biting down on his wolf instincts, Benjamin forced himself to relax as he relapsed into a more casual posture. It had been beyond easy to achieve thanks to his anxiety growing by the moment.

“It’s hard to explain. I'm sorry, but excuse my behavior. Umm, do you happen to know about this right here? I would ask the tour guide but she seems rather busy.” Ben pointed to the witch stone as he felt strange asking a complete stranger to give him the history over it, noting her reaction and couldn’t explain why he couldn’t come up with better way to approach this odd situation. Part of him hoped the awkward teenage wolf years would pass sooner than later.

Something seemed off to Marie, but she brushed away the feeling of unease to answer his query.

”Uh, sure. It’s a witch stone, also known as a hag stone, adder stone, serpent’s egg. It’s a stone with a naturally occuring hole in it that was used in various folk magic traditions to protect against malicious magic, ward off and cure snake bites, and most famously see through magical glamours and disguises.”

Ben mumbled under his breath. “That explains it.”

His figure leaned forward onto the barrier as he stared at the hag stone with a frown, at least having part of the puzzle solved. “So is it only used by witches? Or can it be used by humans, according to myth?”

He tried to pass it off as a casual comment rather than fishing for answers.

”Well, technically anyone can use them. The common folk in that time were highly superstitious and terrified of being influenced by something otherworldly or supernatural, so they had all manner of charms to aid them and deflect curses and magical tricks. In fact, it likely received the name ‘witch stone’ because it was a charm against witchcraft. Witches, of course, would have known about the folk charms and employed them along with their usual enchantments.” Marie responded quickly, never tiring of offering others knowledge of the craft, even if it was only over something as simple as a hag stone.

Ben noted her knowledge over the subject then commented on it, wondering if his hunch was right. His nostrils still twitched and flared, absorbing her scent. It was nearly identical to the hag stone drawing an uneasy sensation in his gut as he continues. “You sound like you have a lot of experience with this. You wouldn't happen to be a witch, would you?”

It was meant to come off as a joke as he watched her reaction closely.

Marie wasn’t too thrown off by the question. It was valid, given her apparent knowledge of the hag stone, and claiming to be a witch in the 21st century wasn’t the craziest thing one could say, nor would they suffer persecution for it.

She chuckled, ”Maybe, but it’s more likely that I’m an anthropology student.” It was a quick, simple lie, but substantial nonetheless.

Turning her head back to the exhibit casing, Marie caught a glint of something on the glass. Her focus shifted from Ben to the hag stone, then to her reflection. Marie saw herself, an ancient version of herself, staring back. Her modern dress was replaced by a medieval gown, her straight hair appearing in unkempt waves of black. She looked into her reflections eyes, one of which was her own, but the other was positioned over the hag stone, which now sported an ethereal glow.

”Holt,” Marie said aloud, not looking to see who heard. ”I think I just found it. I think I found Gwyneth’s eye.”

”The hag stone? I suppose that makes sense. A witch’s magic is practical. What better tool to peer through one’s enchantments than one designed for that very purpose. It must possess the power to see Gwyneth’s other possessions, that is why she calls it her eye.”

Marie was overjoyed! A wave of enthusiasm spread over her, her skin began to dance with excited chills, her eyes glistened with happy tears. The rest of the group had moved to another exhibit further down, leaving Ben and Marie behind. In the moment she saw Gwyneth’s eye, she forgot he was ever there.

“Who’s Holt?” Came Ben’s question, his brown eyes stared at her suspiciously. His neck hairs raised on the back of his neck, alert and mindful about her behavior, while he took a step back in caution. Thankfully everyone else had moved or they would’ve spotted his twitches showing on his surface, his head tilted like a wolf examining something new and strange in his territory.

”Uh . . . I mean,” Marie stuttered, unsure of what to say. She had been careless. Normally, she wouldn’t speak to Holt in public and would only engage in subtle, mental messages with the familiar, but she had been taken in by the surprise of finding Gwyneth’s eye and dropped her guard. Could she make an excuse for herself? Did she care at this point? Her only reason for being there was to find the eye, which she had done. She hadn’t caused a stir, hadn’t done anything particularly damning, and even if she had, she was wearing her glamour charm so no one could tie it back to her.

“Well?” Ben asked again, his arms crossed over his front in resistance to taking any bullshit answer. There was too many questions going through his and less answers to satisfy them, a fact he wasn’t pleased about.

Marie could have spent the next few minutes trying to come up with a distraction, but by then another group would have come around making it harder for her to retrieve the stone. At this point, Marie was fine with a little exposure.

”You know what,” she finally responded, ”You were right the first time. I am a witch, and here’s a little magic to prove it. Holt,” she called to her familiar, who wore an amused grin as he quickly turned from an ethereal shade to a tangible shadow, creeping through the glass casing and lifting the hag stone from its place. He then dropped the stone into Marie’s hand and vanished once again.

Ben didn’t expect the woman to be outright blunt. His eyes flickered to something forming at her side. At first, he thought it was some strange, misshapen shadow formed by poor lighting. However when it grinned, he knew very differently as it phased and stole the hag stone. He dropped it within the witch’s hand causing Benjamin to give a feral growl. His eyes widen in fear and shock, the neck hair raised in alert and immediately the itching sensation traveled along his skin.

Something primal and wild surfaced in the back of his mind, crawled its way up, causing his mind to scream. Ben tried to quell his emotions. His heart pounding and throbbing in his chest, resulting in slight wheezing. Instantly he dropped to his knees quietly mumbling in panic. “Shit...no, not now. Please. Calm down.. Please, stop..”

Marie looked at Ben with a combination of curiosity and horror. This sort of episode was like nothing she’d ever seen before. ”Oh my god, are you alright? What’s happening?” she dropped to his side, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

”He’s transforming,” Holt replied calmly.

”What?”

”I had a suspicion when I saw his nostrils flare up earlier, but this confirms it. He’s infected with lycanthropy.”

”Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, a werewolf?” Marie was outraged, not by the idea of werewolves, but by the sheer fact that she’d happened upon one in such a public place.

Holt gave a slight nod. ”And by the looks of it, a young one. His transformations are tied to both the lunar cycle and his emotions. My manifestation must have shocked him and triggered the transformation.”

Marie wanted to panic but knew that in doing so, she’d only make matters worse.

”If you calm him down, we might be able to get him somewhere more private.”

Marie had no time to question what an outrageous notion calming down an adolescent werewolf in the middle of New York City was. Instead, she held his other shoulder and peered into his eyes, calling on whatever power of compulsion she or Gwyneth might have had. In a low voice, she said, ”Everything is going to be alright. Take some deep breaths and try to remain calm. You’re in no danger, you just need to stay in control.”

Ben was trembling. All over, his figure itched and tingled, his mind expecting at any moment it would peel away. Part of him was angry because he had just gotten himself clean and into something almost normal for his messed up life. When her face lowered to his kneeling position, his inner wolf recoiled in fear then shuddered when the magic entered his core. It shimmered and filled him with a calming effect, his itching slowed almost, as his lips pushed back from their snarling.

“Please.. Make it stop. I don’t want to do this again.” The words slipped out of his pleading lips, Ben’s frighten eyes softened into a glossy expression.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marie steadied Ben as the pair darted through the exhibit past surprised patrons to the nearest restricted area. They rounded a few corners until finally they reached a storage unit. With a quick hand motion, the locked door flew open, almost off its hinges. Inside were sheet covered displays on rollers, which Holt moved from their path, creating a large clearing in the room. With another motion, Marie shut the door behind them, directing Holt to enchant it shut. She gently knelt down with Ben, setting him in the open floor space and moving away to another corner of the room to observe.

Ben tried to focus, his arms already pealing away his shirt. Along with it came a thick flesh colored patch of skin that flipped away with the movement and splattered blood on the wall. He barely kicked off his jeans when the first bone abruptly snapped. He screamed then crumbled, his flesh starting to break at the seams where his joints bended the most revealing matted, bloodied blond fur. Bones continued to crack and shift, lengthening or shortening based on desired form.

When he finished, Benjamin laid on his side on top of the skin and heaving each breath. This time, there was only a limited spot that had become filthy, the blood looked darker than the fresh color of last night. The werewolf whimpered softly like an injured pup in his position, the aches still throbbed in his very skeleton.

Help… Hurt… Emotions associated with those words echoed in Marie’s mind when the werewolf’s limited telepathy kicked in finally, his head raised to lock eyes with her.

Marie heard Ben’s please for help over her own thoughts. She empathized with him but was altogether unsure how to proceed. She had never dealt with lycanthropy before and knew almost nothing about it. Would Ben be hostile? She could protect herself, but she worried he might be difficult to hide if that were the case. How long would he remain in this form? It was easy to assume that a wolf would return to human form after the full moon, but if they had the power to change outside of the lunar cycle as well, there was no telling how long Marie would be dealing with this. There were so many unanswered questions, so much novelty that Marie was frozen while Ben lie hurting and whimpering.

Marie watched the scene with a heavy heart. It hurt her, not being able to ease his pain, but there was nothing that she could do.

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

Witch Hunt Cast

Prologue

Location: The Red Devil, Lost Haven
Time: Night, Six Hours after the Soul Stone’s Creation

---

”Find them . . .” a voice called from beyond.

Marie walked down a narrow, mossy, cobblestone path, jagged from years of neglect. On each side stood a row of trees, limbs gnarled and bare, twisting overhead to form an eerie archway that let in the thinnest strands of moonlight. Time stretched on in both directions, a thick fog masking whatever might await at the end of the way. She could feel something watching, following.

”Find them . . .” the voice came again, louder than the first. Marie quickened her pace, feeling something creeping up behind her but unable to turn and face it.

”Find them and all shall be revealed . . .”

Marie was now running at full sprint, speeding down the narrowing path, vines twisting along the ground and tripping her up from time to time, the wall of trees growing closer, branches falling onto her shoulders, grasping at her arms. She was overtaken by them, held in place. From beyond the fog, a heavenly glow grew closer, piercing through the mist. A woman, face obscured by divine light, held out her hands to Marie, gifting her something small and rough.

”My eye,” the woman’s voice was smooth and clear. ”I gift you my eye so that you may see the truth. Look through this lense to see my world, to find what is mine. Do this and all shall be revealed . . .” Her voice began to fade, as did all of Marie’s senses. The ethereal glow, the ominous voice, the twisting vines, gnarled branches, and jagged cobblestones, gone. Marie looked down at her hands to find the last remaining spark of light. She opened her hands and . . .

*********

Marie awoke suddenly on the floor of the work room in The Red Devil. Her joints popped as she rose, steadying herself on a stone altar, knocking over a vial of graveyard dirt in the process. Holt rose from his slumber atop a bookcase in the form of a cat, startled by the sounds of shattering glass and stone grinding against the hardwood floor.

”Marie?” Holt jumped down, coming to Marie’s aid. ”Is everything alright?”

”Yeah . . .” she groaned, managing to finally pull herself up and straighten herself out. She was understandably stiff, having collapsed in exhaustion after her meeting with Broker. ”Just a weird dream.” She looked down at her hands to find nothing but smudges of soot from the altar top.

After wiping her hands on a nearby piece of cloth, Marie walked over to a large, hanging mirror to get a good look at herself. She had changed out of her White Witch attire upon arriving at The Red Devil and just before passing out, but she still wore her glamour charm and the pendant given to her by Broker. Her fingers traced the designs on the pendant as she stared at it in the mirror. Should she take it off? Surely it wasn’t necessary since the ritual had already been performed.

Marie thought on this a few moments longer before stripping off the pendant and casting it to the side. She waited there for a moment to see if some mysterious supernatural consequence might render her into an insane mess of screaming and excruciating pain, but luckily, no such thing occurred.

”Was it Gwyneth?” Holt prodded, eyeing the infernal trinket as it spun atop the table before coming to rest.

Marie sighed, stretching and fixing herself in the mirror. ”I’m sure it was, but god knows what she was trying to say. You’d think that after a crazy necromantic ritual she’d be able to speak to me more plainly, but I guess spirits and witches love their cryptic riddles.”

”Mortals hide their true intentions behind colorful words, they lie and deceive. Spirits will always offer the truth, though it may be difficult to decipher.” Holt retorted, changing into a raven and flying onto Marie’s shoulder.

”I don’t need a lesson in Otherwordly ethics and etiquette, Holt. I just need to know what it is Gwyneth wants me to find. I know that in order to gain her lost memories, I need to recovering the pieces of her that are scattered around the world, but I haven’t the slightest idea what those are yet or where to find them.” Marie sighed again, feeling both exhausted and defeated. Broker’s spell had given Marie a greater glimpse into Gwyneth’s past, but the pieces still didn’t fit together as perfectly as she would have liked.

”Might I suggest trying again?” Puck’s voice startled Marie. He strode through the door to the work room bringing with him a slight chill. ”Pardon me, I didn’t mean to interrupt your brooding. I just wanted to see how you were doing after your little soiree with Greed. A few unsavory folk have already stopped by to find the cause of the power surge in New York. I’ve been rather busy this evening.” Puck spoke of Rune and company.

Marie looked at him with worry, but Puck calmed her with a reassuring look. ”You needn’t worry. I’ve ensured your safety and no one save Broker knows of the White Witch’s involvement.”

”T-thank you,” Marie spoke with a sigh of relief, ”But what did you mean, try again? Even though my connection to Gwyneth is stronger, I still don’t know what she’s trying to tell me.”

Puck smiled, ”You said it yourself, your connection to your past life has grown stronger. You have a greater access to her memories, which means you also have a greater access to her magic. You share Gwyneth’s power, and if it was her power that scattered her possessions, it will be her power that finds them. Tap into that connection! Perhaps they will call to you now that you are more recognizable to them.”

It made sense. Before unlocking what few pieces of Gwyneth’s memory that she had, Marie was altogether unable to locate any of Gwyneth’s possessions. Maybe it was that she needed the extra push from Gwyneth to find them.

Marie nodded, sitting down at a nearby table and unfolding a map of the U.S. She had no reason to believe that Gwyneth’s valuables would be anywhere near her, but it was a starting point. Marie took a handful of sand from a jar and coated the map until nothing was visible. She placed her hands over the map and focused on her recent vision of Gwyneth. Calling back to the item in her hand, she willed its image to be revealed, for its whereabouts to be known. The sound of shifting sand made her giddy. When Marie opened her eyes, she saw that the sand had retreated from a small part of the map, leaving an empty circle around New York.

”See?” Puck smugly chimed in.

”Alright, theory proven, but that doesn’t really narrow things down. New York’s not the biggest state, but I still have no idea where to begin looking, or what I’m looking for.” Marie was again feeling dejected. She felt her mission moving one step closer and two steps back.

”I thought something like this might happen, which is why I’ve been on the lookout for any interesting goings on around the country. And it just so happens that New York made it onto my list.” Puck pulled a Manhattan newspaper from behind his back and gave it to Marie. She looked at it for a few moments, flipping through until she found the heading he was talking about.

One of the headlines read, “University Professor to Lead Exhibit on the History of European Witchcraft at the Museum of Natural History.” Marie’s eyes lit up. There was going to be an entire section of the museum dedicated to the different eras of witch belief and accompanying artifacts from those times. It was all coming together.

”If I were a betting man, which I am, I would wager that whatever item of Gwyneth's she wants you to find is somewhere in that exhibit, you need only to determine which occult artifact it is.”

Marie jumped up from her seat and hugged Puck, who smiled warmly and returned the gesture.

”Thank you,” she said with enthusiasm, tears of joy streaming down her pale cheeks. She gathered herself, brushing off a bit of dust that had settled on her dress during her slumber. She put on a thin coat and lined the inside with small magical trinkets, hoping that she could compel security to let her through without checking the coat. She then bolted downstairs, Holt flying behind her. She’d have to wait until the morning before going to the museum, but she’d have to find a suitable location to place Puck’s door so as not to cause a stir.

Arriving at the crimson door, Marie looked back at the bar, its patrons, and Puck, who had followed her down. He gave her one of his famous grins, and she met his smile with an even bigger one.

She looked down at Holt. ”I guess we’re off to New York again.”

He offered her what could only be taken as a chuckle. ”After last night’s events, let’s hope this little excursion doesn’t devolve into a witch hunt.”

Marie smiled. ”We’re already on a witch hunt.”

With that, the pair stepped through the door into New York to find the first of Gwyneth’s missing relics.