roan-wayland

[roan-wayland]

Roan's outfit for the Midsummer Night's Dream event

Drank potion: Lust

[roan-wayland]

Seeing his friend like this, a man who had lost what he had built and put his soul into, was heartbreaking. Roan felt the urge to fall to his knees and confess everything and beg for forgiveness then and there. But he knew that this would only cause more hurt and no forgiveness could be granted for regret alone. With enough good deeds he could perhaps redeem himself somewhat, but the burden of guilt would not go away easily. "Once I'm done with Remington Tower I'll come by and see if I can help with the pub," he promised.

Concern painted lines on Roan's face when Jaxon told him about the attack. "You and Gwen were attacked?" He felt his guilt turn into anger. This shouldn't have happened, this wasn't part of the plan. And something about his words struck a chord of familiarity that worried Roan. "How are you faring now? Is she- better?" He put a hand on Jax's shoulder and led him away to a calm corner by the windows. "Tell me about this magic. You said it slowed your healing. How was it manifested, a weapon or a spell?"

Reed did not notice anything off about his friend. Nothing that he couldn't possibly relate to the aftermath of what they had all seen take place about a week ago anyway. He was exhausted..not to mention he had enough on his plate as it was. "It's all good - life, work..these things just get in the way sometimes, don't they?" he said, shaking it off with ease. Seconds after, Jax was doing the same about the pub situation. Now, that one stang but..he had to keep reminding himself of what was important. Like his reason for being at Remington tower of all places. "..thanks, man. It's been a bitch to clean up, figure out how to rebuild and all but-- yeah, something like that. I was actually hoping to speak to Elijah about somethin' my d-Gwen got hit with. Some..magic. It slowed down her healing.. mine too, a while ago. I just want to get to the bottom of things cause I'm scared..I don't- I can't see this happen again."

[roan-wayland]

It became clear to Roan then, that Matthew was giving him the benefit of the doubt, that he didn't want believe he would have collaborated with Artemis. So Roan would let him keep believing that for now, and perhaps one day he would understand his choices.

"Of course I don't know how it ended up in the hands of Artemis followers," he replied, almost annoyed. "Do you think I would aid a group who goes after our community? A group who has attacked the homes and families of witches?" he said with dismay and shook his head, "No, my friend, I am not protecting those people."

Roan was not outright denying any involvement in how the bracelet got to where it did and that was setting off an alarm in Matthew's head. This bracelet was not the first piece of evidence that liked supernaturals to Artemis, but it was the first one Matthew could trace to a source.

"Do you mean to tell me that you do not know how it fell into this person's hands?Unless you think that Artemis and her followers are people you think need protection. From us." the fallen deity asked again, his anger increasing with each second that ticked by. "A simple yes or no will suffice. "

[roan-wayland]

"After this chaos, there's not much that can make the room look completely restored," Roan chuckled, "Safe for order magic, but that is not for us mortals to use." He watched with a sweet smile as his familiar received some well-appreciated petting. "With Patrick's help, I bet the three of us could return it into some of its original state," he mused as he watched the other witch and the raven. "Do you reckon we should try? Or do you still want to do it the human way?"

Daphne readily praised all in her coven. Without them to guide her, she was certain that her magic would be sloppy at best and dangerous at worst. They had been with her to help through every hardship in her life. The younger witch only wished that there was something that she would be able to do to pay them in kind. She held out her hand for the raven, wanting to stroke his feathers to soothe him. She hadn't meant to upset him when he'd only been doing his job. "I suppose. But it's still only an illusion. I wish there was something more I could do to actually make the room look as it once did."

[roan-wayland]

"To people I thought needed it," Roan said calmly, "To witches and humans who have been sworn into the supernatural community." He could feel the edge in Matt's voice, the unspoken 'tell me or else'. But he couldn't compromise the people he had set out to protect. He couldn't risk sending a demon's wrath after them.

"Artemis?" The name left his lips with a low groan as he slowly shook his head. "It is common practice in the coven, Matthew, we use protective bracelets all the time. But if this fell into the wrong hands..." his eyes fell unwillingly on the claws of darkness around him, "I would try to make things right." He sighed and looked back at Matt, trying to ignore the pulsing darkness around him. "Tell me they didn't kill anyone. Tell me there's something I can do to repair the damage."

"Given them out for protection? To who?" Matthew demanded to know and shook his phone for emphasis. The information Roan was asking for was not for anyone outside of the elders to know, but Matthew had to chance it for Roan's sake.

"It was found on one of Artemis' followers," the fallen deity hissed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, the tendrils of shadows around them both were now looming menacingly over the witch. "It clearly belongs to you. I would recognise those beads anywhere... Tell me you did not know how it changed hands to get to who it did, Roan..."

[roan-wayland]

There was something therapeutic about working on the repairs of Remington Tower. Roan felt like he was cleaning away the dirt from an open wound with each blemish that he removed, each ward that he recast. Still, the wound was there, and no matter how much work he put into repairs, he felt the responsibility of the damage weigh heavy on him. Jaxon appearing at the tower was like something out of Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol, bearing the reminder of how his friends had suffered in the Artemis attack. With his mind heavy with the secret burden he carried, he approached his friend.

"Jax, my eyes didn't deceive me, it is you," he greeted the werewolf with a bittersweet smile and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to return the hug. "You know," he shrugged at the question, "It is my fault, I never invited you back after Thanksgiving." His smile slowly dropped into concern then and he said, "I'm sorry, I heard that the pub was hit. If you need any help with- any help at all, you let me know. Is that why you're here?"

IN NEED OF ANSWERS @ Roan and Jax

Spending the majority of his time at the hospital and having the aftermath at the pub to deal with had left Jaxon Reed with very little time to do anything else. He was a goddamn wreck. Even saying that felt like the biggest understatement but as he stepped into the Remington tower, his resolve was clear. The beta sought answers, anything that might explain how Artemis' followers had messed with Gwen's healing. It was something that had already happened a while back and which he'd experienced himself. Reed was certain it involved magic of some sort -hence why he figured Elijah might be of some help.

Getting past security, the werewolf reached the main counter when the sound of a familiar voice caught his attention. "Roan?" His gaze narrowed a bit, not having seen the other man in a while, but, soon enough, he was stepping forward to greet him. "Long time no see, man." he smiled weakly as he squeezed his hand and threw an arm around the witch for a hug. "..you good?"

@roan-wayland

[roan-wayland]

@thejax-reed - Patrick and Roan joining Jax during a full moon?

[roan-wayland]

The witch listened patiently, wanting to give his new student a safe space to share as much as she was ready to share. It was important to process trauma in order to be able to move on, but even an ancient spirit could need to take it slow and easy, perhaps especially so. "Of course, that is a terrible feeling for anyone. And we've become so accustomed to having our powers."

Roan knew immediately what kind of magic could trap a spirit in that way. The fact that he happened to be an expert in that kind of magic felt too much like a coincidence, and he wondered uneasily if this was the reason that Naz had come to see him. He decided to proceed with telling her what he knew without sharing too much of his own skill with it. "Barrier magic," he replied. "Barriers are commonly used with the intention of protecting the caster against outside attacks. It has also been known as a means of... trapping someone or something." He looked at Naz with sympathy and a sense that he might not be able to help her after all, "I'm afraid, there's not much that can be done against that type of magic. It is in its nature magic-absorbing. You would need a lot of power to break through a barrier."

The spirit had spent most of her life trying to fitting in with other human's by holding back her magic and power. It was rare that she praticed and played with it like this and oddly, she had missed it. While spirit's liked to play tricks but she decided not to haunt her new teacher too soon and let all the illusions fade. Naz smiled, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "I'm the kind of student who brings an apple to class for the teacher," she admitted, knowing she liked to exceed in everything she did.

The spirit was still working through her emotions about the fire and loss of her home. She gave the witch a tight smile and nodded. "It's been rather haunting, excuse my pun," she replied, absently twisting her fingers together. "I guess that's what I really need. I haven't felt helpless in a very long time and it's been unnerving." Any help that Roan could offer would help the spirit build that feeling of safety again. "I don't really know too much about what kind of magic it was. I have some ideas about what stops our kind. I woke up to everything on fire and I couldn't use any of my abilities, like they turned my room into a snare trap. Do you know what kind of magic could do that?"

[roan-wayland]

Roan looked up from the burnt door he had been reforming. Fighting down the involuntary surge of cortisol he nodded at the coven leader and followed him. Being in Remington Tower had proved more testing for his nerves than he had thought, half expecting to be questioned about the night of the blackouts at any moment. At least he didn't have to lie about how devastated he was to see the damage to the building. It was his home now after all. "Of course. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to re-cast them, but I'll see which ones are a priority." He let his hand sweep over the runes, feeling the magic pulse in them like a living thing.

"How are you faring, Elijah?" he asked with a glance at the other witch, wondering if his damages had been purely cosmetic as well.

@roan-wayland

Elijah came up beside Roan and waited for him to reach a break in his work before saying anything. "Can I grab you for a bit?" He tilted his head towards one of the areas with fire damage and started walking towards it with Roan. They took a slightly winding path around some of the tarps and construction equipment to arrive at a back wall with runes painted on it. Normally, they would be hidden by a false panel, but it had been burned away along with most of the other decoration in the room. "The protection spells held, so we're dealing with cosmetic damage and nothing structural. I wanted you to look at the wards themselves though, whether or not we should replace them now."

[roan-wayland]

Despite feeling that his mood had gone sour from Matt's insisting on pushing for dark magic, Roan managed a smile. "I think it's best that way. And you can leave the white magic to me, I've got it covered," he winked. "No, that was all for now, but I'll let you know when I have something new for you to break."

"Hmm... That is an argument that I've heard before," Matthew commented with a light shrug. It was a point of view that the fallen deity could not quite get behind given how Matthew existed on this world for all this time. Whatever gave the mortals peace.

Matthew arched a brow at the other man at the snappy way he responded. Touchy much. "Alright then. You can leave the dark magic to me. I'd be more to happy to shatter all the bracelets you send my way," he hummed lightly. "Do you have anything other prototypes that you'd like to show me?"

[roan-wayland]

Abandoning the humans to the demon's mercy wasn't easy. He could see how every choice made a fork in the road, and now an abyss opened itself with two paths on either side. On one side he saved the humans, but gave up knowledge that could endanger people he cared about. By letting the two men take the fall in his place he was keeping his secrets safe, but he saw the corrupting darkness that had come with that choice. It was of course entirely possible that they sacrifice would be in vain and that the demon would come for him next and break through all his barriers. But Roan still had some tricks up his sleeve to use if he had to run.

It surprised him that, after all Roan's missteps in trying to save the humans, Ursa decided to release them. The witch eyed the dark shadows suspiciously, wondering if they weren't going to close in around the humans at the last second. "'Just fine' aren't the words I would use," he replied darkly, struggling to trust a single word that Ursa said.

"Aye, you tell Elijah that a witch tried to protect humans from the wrath of a demon," Roan said, feeling a surge of confidence return to him. "You know that one of his sons is human. I'm sure he would understand the value of their lives." He wasn't certain that Elijah wouldn't take Ursa's warning to heart, and he couldn't be sure that this wouldn't lead to him being kicked out of the coven, but as long as the proof of his connection to Artemis was hidden in his mind he knew that his secrets would be safe. "I have done a lot for the coven. They won't turn their back on me so easily." Roan sighed and looked with feigned sympathy at Ursa. "Something of yours has been damaged tonight. Naturally, you would want to point the blame..."

Once again Roan let his mind search the nearby streets and the darkening sky above. Despite his confident words he was looking for a way out before he gave the demon more leverage against him. Ursa's last words made him almost laugh out loud. Wasn't it evident what he was protesting? "The time for conversation has passed. That," he gestured at the two men who had moments ago been tortured by black magic and his eye turned to cold fury, "is not how a conversation goes. It's an assault against the powerless. And now the powerless are responding in kind."

It was no surprise that the witch's heorism faltered. Now that there was a real danger, they wouldn't stand up for humans. By nature, they were all trying to survive so it was natural to protect yourself first. While he wouldn't fault the man, it did speak loudly of his character and such a shame it was. It would make sense if he was part of this attack because he was just as cowardly as Artemis was.

"You know something," he answered simply. The witch should have been on his side. They could have captured the pair but the witch knew something more, he wanted Ursa to let them go. "In good faith, I can drop the shadows and let the men go. If they get to a hospital soon, they'll be just fine," he promised. The dark shadows had collected their token of revenge and that would be enough for the old demon. He had marked them for their crimes.

"I would share to Mr Remington that their was barrier magic used in the fire at Naz Ulusoy's home as well as around my building as it burned to the ground," he started. "And then I would say I ran into a witch from his coven using that same barrier magic while trying to aid the vandals that burned my building down." It was simply the truth and the demon had no reason to lie. "It doesn't exactly implicate you but I think it's enough for Elijah to go digging around in your thoughts to see the truth and you know how good he is at that."

Ursa gave the witch a moment to think and contemplate his choices, wanting to give him time to form a plan if he could. "I simply want a conversation. I want to know what the demands are. If this is a protest against your own community, what are you protesting? To what end?" the demon asked. That was what he was most curious about, what was the goal to this revolution?

[roan-wayland]

Roan knew how much The Hereafter meant to Matthew, and he also knew the other to be one who reigned in his emotions, so he took the demon's coldness as grief. "Of course," he replied softly, feeling that was as much condolence as Matthew would accept.

"I'd like to know that too," Roan said slowly. The matter that his friend had brought to him was so unexpected that the witch had dumbly stared at the photograph for a minute. It was unmistakably one of Roan's bracelets, the kind that Matt had tested his powers on, and since Matt had come to him there was no use in denying that it was. The question was, and this made Roan's skin crawl as if it was being eaten by maggots, where this bracelet had been found and what had been done to its bearer.

"It's one of my bracelets," he added and swallowed, looking up at Matt, painfully aware of the shadows come to life in his apartment. "I've given a few out for protection in light of the unrest in the city. Who- where was this found?"

"The Hereafter will survive," Matthew said a little too coldly as he entered Roan's apartment the moment the witch allowed him to. It was a formality more than anything because the fallen deity could easy have done much worse. But Roan was supposed to be his friend, or so he thought, but Matthew did not wish to jump to conclusions either.

"I'm here about another matter," he added and turned to look at Roan, noting under the light of his apartment just how worn out he looked. He was not sure if he fared any better.

"This," Matthew said and showed Roan a photo of the bracelet they found on the Artemis follower they caught in Chissob Hills. "What is the meaning of this?" At that moment, the shadows in Roan's apartment pulsed around them, the only thing betraying how Matthew truly felt in the moment.

[roan-wayland]

The witch's road | drabble

Alaska, 1898

Old leather shoes and a ragged coat did little to keep the cold out. The snow creaked under his shoes like an old wooden floor. God, he wished he had stayed in the cabin. But if he didn’t find more wood for the fire there would soon be nothing left of that floor. He he had already used the bed for fuel, and he would rather not sleep on the ground.

The howling wind calmed down to give him a moment’s reprieve, and in the silence he heard an unmistakable sound of another’s presence. “Who goes there?” he called hoarsely.

“A friend,” came the reply of a hauntingly calm voice.

The shivers down his spine were not caused by the cold this time. He ripped the holster on his belt open with stiff, cold fingers and let the familiar weight of his revolver calm his shaking hand. “Show yourself! And don’t try anything, I-I am armed.” Shit, why couldn’t he keep his voice steady?

“You don’t need to be scared, I told you, I am a friend,” the voice said again and now its bearer materialised. “Sven Bengtson, I have come to warn you of a terrible danger that lurks in your camp. Your weapon will be futile against it. Let me help you.”

The frost crept all the way through his skin into his bones at the sound of those words. “How-w- do- you know- my name?” he choked on his own words, barely able to keep his senses together. “Wh-who are you?”

“I am a deity and I know many things. One thing I know is that a demon has entered your camp under the guise of a human. He has masked himself as one of you, waiting for the moment to corrupt and kill you,” the deity said and looked with piercing eyes at Sven. “I will give you a way to protect yourself and the other innocent souls of your camp.” The deity held out its hand to the revolver, making it glow with a soft white light.

“Å herre Jesus!” Sven exclaimed.

Paris, 1991

Roan gave the rusty old weapon a sceptical look before gazing at the dealer under heavy eyelids. “This is the demon-slaying weapon you promised me? You could at least have picked out a dagger or something more than a century old to make it more believable,” he huffed and crossed his arms.

“Mais, c’est la verite!” the old man protested. His white hair framed his head like a little cloud and his dark eyes stared at Roan through glasses thick as bottles.

Roan clicked his tongue, “I don’t care what you say, I can’t just take your word for it. Where’s the proof?”

The dealer sighed in annoyance and pointed at the old leather journal on the counter next to the revolver. Roan flipped through it and looked back at the old man with a derisive smile. “It’s in Swedish. A language I'm not going to bother to learn. Why should I waste my time on this? I wouldn’t even be here if your place hadn’t come highly recommended. So tell me, why is this worth my time and money?”

“J’ai vous déjà dis,” the man’s wrinkled old hands picked up the revolver and pointed at some markings along the pipe.

Roan looked closer at the markings and noticed that these weren’t any of the common alphabets. These were magical runes. Surprise painted itself in the creases of his face and the derision was exchanged for appreciation of what fate had brought into his hands.

The old man seemed satisfied and pointed at the backside of the journal where the same markings were scribbled in a far less delicate handwriting, “Et voilà!”

Roan had to admit, this started to look like something interesting. Perhaps the old man was telling the truth. He looked at the items on the counter again and realised with disappointment, “There are no bullets...”

Vievecor City, present day

The final rune glowed as it was burned into the surface of the metal, shaping the intrinsic properties of the bullet. Roan brought it up close and studied his work, and through his rough features the light of hope shone in his eyes. A boyish smile graced the old witch’s lips when he turned to his raven familiar. Raven and witch exchanged a knowing look.

A long road lay behind them, with twists and turns that had taken them around the world. It had started with the pursuit of knowledge, then it had evolved into an ambition and strive for power, finally it had become a need to feel safe. Roan had never supported violence, nor sought to use magic as a weapon, until someone had been taken from him. Whether he admitted it or not, the loss of his wife had changed him and the purpose of his work with magic. He now sought ways that magic could make him and other witches stronger against other supernatural beings. He even tried to give humans some of that power, only to provide them with a chance to stand up against the forces of darkness.

The blackouts in Vievecor City had shaken many, but Roan knew that there were those who instead of covering in fear had simply become pissed. And what could humans really do that would scare a demon? What could a single witch do? Not more than an ant could against a lion. But perhaps this weapon could finally change that and tip the balance in favour of the weak.

The witch picked up the revolver and loaded it with the newly forged bullets. He clicked the barrel in place. Runes ran along the pipe of the gun, similar to the runes on each bullet. Beneath the ordinary surface the weapon was pulsing with white magic in a combination of Roan’s barrier magic and a century-old blessing. Oh, he did not envy the demon that got in the way of him now.

“This could work,” Roan said and leaned back in his chair where he was sitting in the middle of his workshop. Decades of research and experimentation filled the shelves and cluttered the pieces of paper that lay in piles on the table. “This could work,” Roan repeated with more vigour.

 It will work, the raven croaked and flapped his wings.

“We’ll have to see.”

OOC: This was the history of the weapon that Roan Wayland completed some days after the Vievecor City blackout. To read more about the weapon's powers, see this post. The information here can be used for reference in future plots. Please discuss any plots directly relating to the creation, knowledge or use of the weapon with @roan-wayland

[roan-wayland]

The revolver

Revolver model m/87, model year 1887, manufactured in Sweden by Husqvarna. 7.5 mm calibre. Known owners: - Sven Bengtson, a human who mentioned owning the gun in his journal from 1898. - Roan Wayland, a witch who acquired the gun from a dealer of magical artifacts in the 1990’s. Current owner. Read the backstory.

Powers

The revolver itself was empowered with white magic in the form of a blessing by a deity. This blessing gives the wielder of the gun increased chance of hitting the intended target as long as the target is non-human. The bullets that the revolver is currently equipped with have been magically enhanced by the witch Roan Wayland. The bullets can drain power and wound supernatural creatures.

The effects

The effect of the gunshot is meant to be weak on humans and any being with a soul resembling a human's, while effects on demons is meant to be the strongest.

Deities – will not be affected by the shot. The bullet will bounce off them.

Humans – the bullet will not penetrate through skin, but the force of the shot will still be transferred to the body. It will feel like being shot while carrying a bullet-proof vest.

Spirits – if they are prepared will be able to phase through the bullet and not be hit. Human spirits will feel very little effect, while animal spirits can feel that they have been shot but will not receive any wounds or scars.

Elves, witches, werewolves – will experience it like being shot from a regular gun, with some delayed healing of the wound and some power drain.

Vampires and demons – will be hit with the full extent of the gun shot. The bullet will penetrate through their skin, draining power and reducing healing. Because of the large concentration of white magic demons will be severely harmed by the shot, losing their powers for a limited amount of time as their black magic has to fight to expel the white magic from their body. The bullet wound will leave a permanent scar. The scar will follow them if they change to another body or go into the underworld.

OOC: The information in this post can be used for reference in future plots. Please discuss any plots directly relating to the creation, knowledge or use of the weapon with @roan-wayland

[roan-wayland]

IDRIS ELBA 📷 Details Magazine, september 2014

[roan-wayland]

The deity's weariness was evident, and Roan wasn't sure what else he could do but try to explain that he had never meant to hurt nor intrude. Not giving him her name showed that she was still keeping him at a distance. At least it seemed that Patrick's presence was not an issue.

"No, and I do apologise for that again, us witches are usually not in the habit of doing that," he said sincerely, even slightly ashamed. So he was the second witch she had met, and he wasn't setting a very good standard for their kind. "Witches have different powers that we choose to evolve, and we have to study magic for years to master it. For deities, such as yourself, most magic is readily available," he nodded in her direction and gave her a sheepish smile. "I therefore assumed, incorrectly, that all deities were familiar with mind magic as a form of communication. I wished to avoid a scene back at the café, feeling that you were about to make a mistake, that was my sole intention. I am sorry about the intrusion."

"I don't know." Elena eyed him wearily, her weight shifted towards her heels like she was ready to bolt again. The unabashed demonstration of his powers unsettled her. It was not only magicians who didn't reveal their secrets, it was never wise to show all of your cards. If all this was second nature to him, what else was he capable of?

With Roan present, her gaze only briefly flicked to the bird despite her growing curiosity. "Hi." Elena had always enjoyed talking to Morgana when she had visited Claws&Effect but the rainbow python had disappeared right along with her friend. It had almost been a year now and there was still no trace of either one of them.

"Yes, but she never went poking around my head." She had been into necromancy and other dark shit though.

[roan-wayland]

Roan's lips formed a little smile at Daphne's praise. It wasn't as common to hear it from the students, so each time felt like a gift. He quickly locked the gift away in his heart. Roan paused what he was doing and waited and watched as the room shifted before his eyes when Daphne conjured the illusion. The raven croaked in confusion when the broken doll he had been picking on suddenly vanished from the floor. Roan chuckled and looked satisfied with the result. "Very good, Daphne, you managed to fool our little friend. Isn't it satisfying?"

"You are too good of a teacher sometimes." She knew that every word that Roan said was something that he meant, but she still festered over all the little mistakes that she made as a student. It had ultimately allowed her to learn, but she wanted so hard to be perfect. Daphne paused her efforts to gather the debris to watch Roan mended the boxing square. It looked as if nothing had ever disturbed it. "Yet it sometimes wavers when uncertainty is present." She knew that was always her downfall when it came to using her magic. She was certain of her abilities, but it was her potential that always caused doubt in Daphne's mind. "Deal." She stood, looking around the room. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, conjuring the image of how this room looked before the damage.