Update 001
- Location
- Nova Scotia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Vote tally:
##### 3.2
[x] She's cute.
No. of votes: 9
Dragonloli123, xtra_ore, veekie, Salbazier, ThePastryKing, wingstrike96, MobiusC, Zaratustra, dnzrx
This was basically tied the whole time with the friendship option -- I was going to try and do them both in equal measure, but it looks like this one won out ^
[x] Ivy's your friend, and you know she'd do this kind of favour for you as well.
No. of votes: 8
notthepenguins, tricholysis, Gamerlord, Vauron, Usandru, The Laurent, Hannz, SoaringHawk218
[x] Ivy caught you in a very unfortunate situation a year back, and the venomous little snake is blackmailing you.
No. of votes: 1
I just write
--
[x] Your parents are wealthy merchants.
No. of votes: 10
I just write, Dragonloli123, notthepenguins, tricholysis, Gamerlord, Vauron, Salbazier, Usandru, ThePastryKing, wingstrike96
This one wasn't even close, up until very nearly the last minute ^
[x] You grew up on the hard streets of a large city -- you have no family.
No. of votes: 6
diesel366, The Laurent, Hannz, MobiusC, SoaringHawk218, dnzrx
[x] Your family are minor nobles, much like the ones who vacated this manor.
No. of votes: 3
xtra_ore, veekie, Zaratustra
##### 3.2
[x] She's cute.
No. of votes: 9
Dragonloli123, xtra_ore, veekie, Salbazier, ThePastryKing, wingstrike96, MobiusC, Zaratustra, dnzrx
This was basically tied the whole time with the friendship option -- I was going to try and do them both in equal measure, but it looks like this one won out ^
[x] Ivy's your friend, and you know she'd do this kind of favour for you as well.
No. of votes: 8
notthepenguins, tricholysis, Gamerlord, Vauron, Usandru, The Laurent, Hannz, SoaringHawk218
[x] Ivy caught you in a very unfortunate situation a year back, and the venomous little snake is blackmailing you.
No. of votes: 1
I just write
--
[x] Your parents are wealthy merchants.
No. of votes: 10
I just write, Dragonloli123, notthepenguins, tricholysis, Gamerlord, Vauron, Salbazier, Usandru, ThePastryKing, wingstrike96
This one wasn't even close, up until very nearly the last minute ^
[x] You grew up on the hard streets of a large city -- you have no family.
No. of votes: 6
diesel366, The Laurent, Hannz, MobiusC, SoaringHawk218, dnzrx
[x] Your family are minor nobles, much like the ones who vacated this manor.
No. of votes: 3
xtra_ore, veekie, Zaratustra
Sure, you and Ivy are friends, and you'd like to think you'd help out a friend -- but you'd maybe need a little bit more to go off of than "trust me, this will work out" to do this kind of thing under normal circumstances. Sure, Ivy helped you out with your studies occasionally -- because of her family, Ivy's formal magical education started much earlier than yours did, long before she ever set foot in Blacktree Academy. Even as you trudge up to the battered front door of the manor house, cloak still clutched close around you, you're struck by the memory of Ivy patiently explaining to you a finer point of basic soul manipulation that had utterly escaped you up until that point. The way she smiled as you'd finally gotten it, flinging her arms around you and pulling you into a hug…
… aaand you're blushing pleasantly at the mere memory. There is a reason you're out here, and it admittedly isn't just because of how much you believe in Ivy's little scheme. The prospect of being all alone in a big, lonely manor house, working closely together on an experiment Ivy's this excited about certainly has an… additional appeal to it than the simple joy of helping out a friend in need. You can't help but imagine her gratitude at how far you've come out of your way, and the trouble you've gone to to make her this lens special. This was a good idea! you decide, as you bang a fist against the front door, trying to wipe the goofy grin off of your face before Ivy answers.
At the same time, a small, nagging voice at the back of your head can't help but imagine your mothers' reaction to hearing about all of this. You can practically see her standing in front of you, hands on hips, mouth quirked into a frown. She'd definitely bring up that cart-driver's son -- the one with the dazzling smile and the pretty words, who'd kissed you... and made off with half the house's silverware when you weren't looking. You're not 13 anymore, but your mother will never let you live that one down.
"I see they haven't managed to teach you any sense at that witch-school of yours! Here you are again, putting all your trust in a pretty face. Do you think that's how I run my business? How I managed to provide so well for you? Do you think I married your father for his looks?"
She certainly hadn't. That much is obviously true. Fortunately for you, you don't have anything as serious as marriage in mind... and you don't particularly take after your father in appearance. You look very much like your mother, in fact: The same dark hair and eyes, the same skin that goes from tan in the dead of winter to dark brown after you've had enough sun. What else do you have in common with her?
[x] You're tall, sturdy and striking rather than beautiful.
[x] You're slender, willowy and graceful.
[x] You're a little on the short side, soft and huggable.
[x] You're tiny, skinny and people call you adorable more often than you actually like.
You do your best to banish the spectre of your mother from your head as you let your fist fall, waiting for Ivy to answer the door. Several long minutes pass with no answer. Huddling a little closer to the building against the wind, you raise your fist to knock again, this time a little more urgently, and wish you'd worn something warmer.
How do you usually dress and present yourself?
[x] Well heeled.
You spend your allowance well -- even your travelling dresses are finely made and tailored, you're rarely seen without a few well chosen bits of jewellery, and you try to keep your hair done up stylishly. Apart from your black school cloak, you're unlikely to be taken for a witch. You're a lot more likely to pass for the well-to-do merchants' daughter that you are. You look like you're someone who's worth listening to, but also someone who's worth robbing.
[x] Respectable.
Your wardrobe largely consists of sturdy but attractive dresses in a current enough style, although with little ornamentation. You keep your hair in a braid, out of the way but still quite fetching. You can safely intermingle with crowds in most places without either being glared at or making a spectacle of yourself. Your parents approve of how you make yourself look.
[x] Practical.
You mostly wear plain-spun trousers and unadorned shirts. Warm enough, durable enough, and easy to move in, put on and take off. You keep your hair cut short and out of the way. You're too well fed and well mannered to be taken for gutter trash, but you probably need to establish your credentials somehow to be allowed to move in your parents' old circles. Your mother likes to cluck about how pretty you look when you let your hair grow out.
[x] Bold.
You wear a lot of corsets in black or crimson and anime-fantasy-style miniskirts. Your hair is long and flowing, and you wear ornamentation that's very obviously arcane in origin. You resemble nothing so much as a witch from the cover of a trashy penny dreadful -- it's advantageous in some places, but decidedly not so in others. Your parents would have a heart attack if anyone they knew saw you like this. Your legs are also probably pretty cold.
After a lengthy, frustrated silence, you're almost ready to knock again, or maybe even just barge your way in, when the door swings abruptly inward. The thing holding the door for you is decidedly not Ivy: It's nearly six feet tall, corded muscles barely concealed beneath a loose, cheaply sewn smock, staring down at you with steady, dead eyes. "Ssstate your busssinesss," it intones in a low, wheezing voice, sibilance strangely drawn out. From its mismatched, heavily stitched-together appearance, you suspect that Ivy has thrown the thing together from a few different sources.
Trying not to show your disappointment too openly -- not that the servant is likely to care, given the average intelligence of such constructs -- you pipe up: "I'm here to see Ivy. Take me to her. She's… she's expecting me." It's hard not to be intimidated by something this large as it regards you with its slow, vacant stare. You're not entirely surprised to see it, though. Ivy's a highly accomplished necromancer for her age -- she comes from a well-known line of necromancers, going back to her great grandmother. You don't have such an advantage, being the first of your family ever to show an aptitude for any form of magic, witchcraft or otherwise, but you've managed well enough on natural talent and hard work alone.
What is your speciality? Witchcraft is the magic of manipulating living creatures -- or dead ones, for that matter. You're not a sorceress to throw around fire and other elemental forces. Your magic either needs a living target, or a target that was once living -- objects made of wood, leather, cloth or bone are fair game, but you can't do a thing with metal or stone.
[x] You're talented at alteration magic.
The art of changing the physical form of organic matter. This includes things like repair spells and healing, but also anything that alters the body of a person or animal, up to and including the infamous "turn into a toad" spell. That one is a little out of reach for a relatively recently confirmed apprentice. Principal disciplines: Body, Order, Entropy.
[x] You're adept at placing curses.
Any intangible change to a living creature. You can strike someone with a string of improbably bad luck, or make them utterly unable to lie (that one is a particular favourite of a certain teacher back at Blacktree). At the upper reaches of this craft, you've heard tales of curses that could strike someone instantly mad, or leave them in constant, imaginary agony, or trap them forever in bonds of servitude. You're not exactly chomping at the bit to try out anything like those last ones on someone, even if you did have the power. Principal disciplines: Mostly Soul and Entropy, a bit of Order to make things more permanent.
[x] Like Ivy, you have a knack for necromancy.
Necromancy isn't simply about raising zombies or making creatures like the one Ivy's set to guard the door -- it involves summoning, binding and banishing the spirits of the dead, compelling them to speak or to act, placing them in physical vessels or setting them free. Granting a semblance of life or intelligence or intelligence is possible, but very difficult. They say that powerful necromancers -- women like Ivy's great grandmother -- can rend a person's soul from their body simply by pointing at them. You're definitely not there yet, even if you wanted to rend anyone's soul for some reason. Principal disciplines: Body and Soul.
[x] Potions and charms.
Related to but distinct from the science of alchemy, a witch's potions combine natural reactions with amplified magical effects. A salve that can normally speed healing becomes a cure-all. A poison that normally weakens can kill. A recipe for a flammable liquid can be made to burn hotter than a forge, so long as the components are organic A closely related art is the creation of charms -- inanimate objects made from organic materials imbued with an enduring magical effect. Amulets of protection carved from rowan wood, bone rings that cause wasting and sickness. These creations can be potent, but require a degree of preparation. You can hardly conjure a potion out of thin air, after all. Primary disciplines: Mostly Order and Entropy, with some very basic Body.
The creature continues to stare at you for a long, uncomfortable moment, and you can't help but imagine how easy it would be for this monster to simply reach out and snap your neck where you stand. It tilts its head to the side on its too-thick neck, struggling to think or recall what it should do in this situation. At long last, it says: "Thisss one will take you to mistresss. Follow." Without a further word, it turns around and shambles back into the manor. You barely have enough time to rush in behind it, before the door slams behind you with a resounding thud.
