thewitchinghourrp-blog - Tumblr blog

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

Was this thethreequeens before?? Because EEEEEEEEEK

Haha, yes. We previously did run threequeens.

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

What PSDs do you use?

We use a PSD that was made specifically for the group by Admin V.

- Admin N.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

Nonnie is butthurt cuz they wanted to apply for Nat as a teenage queen who is exactly like fucking anne boleyn. Boo hoo, wank off

I would have addressed the issue more kindly had it not been obvious that this person was looking into her character only to be dissuaded by something as little as her age. There are characters here with more drastic age changes. 

Bare in mind, these women are witches. In Natalie’s bio, it clearly states her mother seemingly never aged which could be a mixture of genetics and presumably, age enhancements. Which would discreetly suggest that it is commonly used since suspicion was raised against her primarily because she did not appear her age. There are subtle hints found throughout the bios and had that anon taken time to notice as much, this wouldn’t be an issue. Plus, 32 is not far off from 36 at all… I’ll admit I laughed a little.

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

would you post a list with the upcoming faceclaims?

There is already one that can be found in the navigation under the upcoming characters.

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

this roleplay is way too gorgeous for words!

Thank you so much!

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

CRESSIDA VAUGHN • 45 (would be) • FC: Olivia Llewellyn • DECEASED

❝ I've seen that victim become the villain of her own tale.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ JOVIAL → NURTURING → CHARMING ✘ IMPULSIVE → ATTACHED → FOOLISH

     Sweet Cressida Vaughn who loved her boy and life as it was. Never had there been a woman so content with what she had; who the world stopped to watch as she never stopped for the world. Her only crime was that she was everything her sister desired to be. Growing up in the Vaughn household, she was the favored sister despite being her sister’s twin. As children, Cressida did her best to assure Godiva was never excluded for others were frightened of her. When Godiva could not understand the wrong in her attempts to gain friends through her abilities, Cressida was there to comfort her. In many ways, she was still the elder sister and heavily monitored Godiva who seemed to grow more and more bitter throughout the years whereas Cressida could maintain a jovial aura despite the misfortunes that she too had suffered. Though because Godiva was so unwilling to endure, she gave birth to an idea their father had established, but never expanded upon. New Ryerson was to be their safe haven. However, Cressida would soon find the town to be the home of her brutal end.

     Cressida married Viktor Montgomery in secrecy as private of a person as she was. A man who loved her for her fair hair and sweet sounding voice. Cressida never knew how much Godiva had loved that man. Otherwise, she would have refused him. If only she had known, it could have spared her life. Exactly nine months later, she had Alastair. That little boy never left her sight and was her very own heart. During the day, she’d carry him to the meadows and sit for hours with him wrapped in her arms as she told him stories he could not yet understand. But like his father, he loved her voice and would coo just to hear it. At night, she’d sing as she rocked him to sleep in her arms. The child never cried because she was always there it had seemed. He was a delighted baby that smiled often. But everything changed when Godiva found out. Jealousy consumed Godiva’s heart and persuaded her to do the unthinkable to her very own sister who all these years had protected and loved her. On a quiet night in February, Godiva entered the home shared between the small family. Cressida was seated with Alastair in her arms and appeared delighted to see her sister until she realized she was wielding an ax. With the entrance blocked by Godiva, she ran for the backroom and intended to escape through the window. But when she got there, the coldness had sealed the window shut. Godiva took one hit to Cressida’s neck and decapitated her own sister, the baby still in his mother’s arms. And when Viktor returned home later that night, he saw the same fate. Alastair cried throughout the night until the bodies were found and Godiva took custody of him, acting profoundly distraught about the murder of her sister. She blamed witch hunters, though not everyone believed her.

     In the weeks prior to her death, Cressida sensed a foreboding. Viktor ignored her pleads to move their family elsewhere, insisting God had spoken to her and told her to do so. When she thought all hope was lost, she brought her baby deep into the woods and was thought to have made a deal with the devil unknowingly. This deal would spare Alastair's life later on when he attempted to end it, but had the deal never been made, he would have presumably never made an attempt against himself. Nevertheless, Cressida did not know. She merely sensed something bad was to happen to her son. She failed to sense that this misfortune that was about to come upon Alastair was brought forth by her own hand. She is long dead, but hardly forgotten. To the girls, she is a type of warning. They all know why she was really killed. All but Alastair who refuses to believe that his aunt who raised him is the one that killed her. There is a memorial for Cressida deep in the woods; a statue of her looking peaceful.

Facts →

Alastair visits the memorial dedicated to his mother quite often. He can be found speaking to her statue and can sometimes swear he sees her smile if he looks long enough. The girls make an effort to assure the memorial is decorated with fresh flowers and material gifts as their way of paying respect to her. The death of Cressida was the saddest event to befall their town and many who are not even aware of witchcraft in the town will pay visit to her memorial. Many think she was an innocent woman that was killed with her child in her arms.

There is a ritual game involving Cressida as some believe her ghost is still active and has yet to pass on even after all these years. The ritual involves one standing in front of her statue with an ax at midnight. Whoever is performing the ritual must blindfold themselves and hold the ax above their head as though they are ready to strike something while they chant "Give me love or give me death". She will appear, but one cannot look at her or it is feared they will die on the spot. She will speak and tell the performer of the ritual either the name of the person they will fall in love with or how they will die. Not both. It depends on which will come first. To make her leave, the performer must swing the ax and strike into the ground as it will frighten her away. They are then safe to remove the blindfold.

Cressida's last words pleaded for the lives of her "children". It can be concluded she was aware she was pregnant with her next child at the time of her murder.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

BELLADONNA BLACK • 36 • FC: Natalie Dormer • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ Throw aside the mask you wear to live and Death will come urgently.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ AMBITIOUS → COURAGEOUS → COMPASSIONATE ✘ OBSTINATE → OVER-PROTECTIVE → OBSESSIVE

     There is much to say about Belladonna, but little to explain. Her family originated outside of New Ryerson as she married young. Robert Black was a noble type of man. His father served the king and Robert himself was offered his father’s position in the event of his passing. But like anyone may, he chose Belladonna over court life for she was never keen to be too far from home. And when Ophaelia was born, Belladonna was urgent to move their family to New Ryerson. Her true reasoning was far from the what supposed truth she had told Robert. But with the threat against her kind increasing and a new daughter on her hands who harbored her same blood, Belladonna was left without a choice and fled. Robert followed close behind, believing that she wanted a change of scenery. And by the time they were fully settled within New Ryerson, she was pregnant with their second child. By seventeen, she had two children on her hands close in age that she cared for on her own while her husband was often absent to collect an income. Because of Robert’s absence, she was forced to find some new company. So she thought. However, she had not known that company would be the opposite of what she wanted. Godiva became a friend and enemy to her.

     Belladonna’s voice resonates with sweetness in the wind and her poise is enchanting. A lively woman like herself holds no suspicion above her head, though her secrets stretch beyond miles. She was a natural born witch with a gift so profound, her knowledge was far beyond that of a normal society’s. She knew what life promised on the other side. As a child, Belladonna loved her mother profoundly and followed at her very heel, mimicking her mother’s shy, yet vibrant demeanor. When she was twelve, she and her elder brother were playing in the gardens of their home when she saw her sweet mother’s face turn so somber as she raced towards them with her arms extended. Terror wiped away any hint of kindness that once decorated the canvas of her mother’s visage. She screamed for them to run inside, but Belladonna wished to comfort her mother. Vidal reacted first, grabbing Belladonna’s hand and whisking her away as their mother followed close behind. Perhaps he knew something she did not. Inside, he hid her beneath the floorboards and followed her in. It was their mother who locked the latch and hid it beneath a carpet. Belladonna could recall her mother’s last words being in a foreign tongue right before she was whisked away and hanged only to have her body cremated and the ashes, scattered. Some hours later, the same men came through and broke the floorboards to discover the two hiding children. Both were hanged in the gardens just outside their home and their mother was no where to be seen. Yet, Belladonna died only momentarily. She can recall three beats of darkness and then she was back, her legs kicking as she still struggled to breath. She remained that way for hours until an elder girl, who never said a word to her, helped her down. As simply as she had helped her, she walked away. Belladonna yanked her brother down and dragged his lifeless body back inside where she slaved over him for days.

     By her own hand, she brought back Vidal and turned urgent to change their family name. Upon further research, she found that her mother’s last words were an incantation for a second chance. Meaning Belladonna was given a second chance to live. And so her connection with the dead originated from there. The two traveled and eventually, Belladonna came upon Robert Black who she grew to marry. Vidal himself took the name with Robert’s permission. And so when they moved to New Ryerson, Belladonna was shocked to see that old acquaintance as a resident. It had been Godiva who rescued Belladonna from that noose. The two developed an inevitable bond, but it became apparent how Godiva did not trust Belladonna who was beginning to assume authority with her kindness. The girls loved her more and so, they became like sisters, but fought a battle between each other. And everyone knew where Godiva’s last sister ended up when she felt threatened.

Personality →

     Belladonna is tender-hearted with the best kind of intentions. She treats all of the girls like her own daughters and offers up kindness to those deserving. However, many do take note of Belladonna's obsession with death and how she narrowly conceals this obsession from her own husband. One cannot be certain if her obsession derives from fear or desire to learn more. Nevertheless, it is there and it is prominent. All of those associated within their group are under Belladonna's protection who feels an obligation to keep them all safe. Many have lost their mothers to accusations of witchcraft and Belladonna often insists she'll die a thousand times before she would allow it to happen again to one of her girls. Her legitimate children always come first with her priorities as she is especially protective over her daughter who is more so threatened. Especially as she becomes more involved with Voodoo. Belladonna is sweet, but she has bite and is more than capable of fighting fire with a flame of her own that is bigger.

Facts →

Belladonna is entirely deaf in her left ear. She has not been able to hear from that ear ever since she was hanged. However, her left ear is her auditory connection to the deceased. While she cannot hear the first dimension in this ear, she hears the dead quite vividly. When she's attempting to focus on the dead, she'll stick her finger in her right ear to drown out all other noise. But sometimes when the dead are talking too much, she covers her left ear. Because of this, she is stubborn about people standing on her right side when they wish to speak to her.

Belladonna miscarried a third child soon after having Tobias. When the Voodoo priestess brought forth Victor, Belladonna had seen this opportunity as the child she was meant to have being reborn. And thus, Victor is very much like her own son.

She cracks her neck a lot due to painful spasms she gets that travels from her neck down to her spine. She also has a fear of suffocation and thus, does not tighten her corset to the extremities most other women do. She avoids contact with cats entirely because she is allergic and the effect they have on her breathing is unbearable for her. Any discomfort involving her breathing gravely upsets her.

Belladonna plays the piano and harp. She takes pride in musical talent which is something her family seems to naturally excel in. Despite her partial deafness, she has a keen ear for music. Her children have respectively earned this trait from her whereas her husband is more so gifted academically. Her own mother was a well singer who preferred opera.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

TOBIAS BLACK • 19 • FC: Aneurin Barnard • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ When words cannot suffice, music begins.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ CHARMING → WELL MANNERED → MUSICALLY ATTUNED ✘ CUNNING → MANIPULATIVE → TEMPERAMENTAL

     A boy. Just a boy who harbored a gift of sound from within his soul. With a pious mother and a lawful father, a quiet sister, he was just a boy. Alas, he was not. He could not raise the dead with his bare hands nor could he sing a melody to entrance his victims, but his little fingers could dance across the strings of a violin his mother gave him when he was merely five. And as those fingers grew, so did his skill. He was a mysterious child to those of whom did not know him and his musical talent came almost too naturally. By the time he was thirteen, he played his strings better than any renown composer to have ever lain their finger upon such an instrument. He was a swift moving viper upon his violin, filled to the brim with his own sort of poison. A soft poison that did not kill, but did maim. A man like himself, given too much power with a petty little musical device. He was dangerous and never one to check his morals at the door. The violin from which he played was an enchanted one. A gift from his mother, of course it ought to be. For she was distressed to believe her only true son was any less than her daughter. To her, it was a battle of worthiness she fought for Tobias. He was, after all, the son of Belladonna. And the violin in his possession had been handed off into wrong hands, she soon found.

     Fate must have foreseen this, though there was no effort made for it to be stopped. Tobias enchanted many folk and soon learned to control their entire conscience with just a mixture of a few strings played in their correct order. He could carry evil deeds without performing them. Nevertheless, he could make amends with God as well by performing the good. For his mother, he played sweet tunes until she fell asleep by the fireplace at night on the stressful ones. For his sister, he followed her into the woods and carried out a swift beat to which she danced and laughed. But for a stranger, he played those same four notes and watched their soul drown from their face as their will became his own. If he wanted to return them to their body, he merely played the same four notes backwards only to disappear before his victim could grasp an understanding of what just occurred. Setting down his beloved violin for other activities, but hardly ever forgetting it, Tobias formed a gang of four men, listing himself off as their leader. He was a dignitary. Manipulative. The type of man to smile in one’s face just to watch them die. But he never murdered anyone, no. His purpose was greed. No one quite knows where it all went wrong for Tobias, but many still blamed that damned violin and insisted it spoke to him. Sometimes, the people would swear he spoke back to it. And so he had secrets of his own. Within his gang, he robbed both the rich and the poor. At certain times, beating them mercilessly when they refused to abide. It could be concluded he was living a double life that everyone was aware of, though never had the courage to confront. At home, he smiled with furrowed brows. On the streets, he was a criminal. He was never all good, but at least he smiled before his mother and had a soft spot in his heart for a few. The three leading ladies of his life. His mother, his sister and Eglantine Lancaster. For only them, his heart was half full. The rest of him was consumed by that innocent little violin.

     The love for his mother and sister was a type of inevitable love. Though what he saw in Eglantine must have been different as she was not either of those. She appreciated music for what it was and his obsession was fed through her incessant commentary of praise towards his work. She commended him more so than anyone before her had. As a close friend of his sister, she was bound to make frequent visits and ever since the unfortunate mishap with her brother, she sought advice from his mother who was attuned to everything deceased. When he played to Eglantine, he played to her for no cause unlike all the others. She never needed a reason other than she loved the sound. And music was his entire being. However, many are still keen to believe the enchanted violin has even enchanted Tobias himself. Belladonna is one among those wary of what power it has over him. And if it is true, the guilt of attempting to make her son something more than he was born to be will soon come to weigh her down.

Personality →

     Tobias is difficult to entirely dissect in terms of his characteristics. Polite, but menacing. Charming, but deluded. He has psychopathic tendencies, but is obviously capable of love. Primarily, he is protective of women and sticks to robbing men. He speaks poetically, though if one listens close enough, his words speak horrors. He walks with a spring in each step and appears as though he is often mirthful. What goes on in his head would say otherwise. Many believe that had he been brought up without that violin in his possession, he would be utterly different in his demeanor. Belladonna describes him as a once quiet child that was pulled out of his shell as soon as he discovered his love for music. But perhaps it was that shell that protected him from himself and he should have never been pulled out of it. It’s difficult to tell if Belladonna regrets the decision of subjecting her son to this “cursed” instrument as she nearly refuses to talk about it. But what is for certain is that the violin never did Tobias any good and continues to enchant him as well.

Facts →

During every one of his robberies, he collects three different trinkets. One thing for his mother, one for his sister and one for Eglantine. He claims he buys them from shops around town selling old valuables, but at least Belladonna and Ophaelia know better. Ophaelia has attempted to confront him about it only to earn back harsh words and disappointment from him. Nevertheless, he continues to keep up this act. Gifts are his way of showing affection since he is not quite a physical person.

Despite setting down his violin at times, he seems to have a twitch in his fingers that mimics plucking strings. It becomes more prominent when he is angered or severely stressed. It is how most tend to gauge his temperament since he seems to have a short fuse.

He cocks his head to the side a lot, also mimicking his movements on his violin. He does this mostly while talking to others and it appears to most like he is sizing them up. Those who know him know that this is merely done out of habit for him. Although he sometimes does genuinely size up people when he intends to later victimize them.

He has a signature tune that is described as very depressing and hauntingly eerie. His work is easily identified because of its originality, but most find themselves terribly upset after hearing him play upon his violin. It is not like other violins. It seems to have its own voice entirely, emitting a very sad atmosphere through the sound of its wails.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

are you guys open to character suggestions? I have a plot in mind but if you guys don't think it would fit into what you have planned I'd hate to step on your toes!

Well, I suppose that all depends on the plot that you have in mind, anon! We are currently mapping out four or five characters in the drafts at the moment, but I don’t see anything wrong with sending a suggestion. 

- Admin N

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

Everything about this is drop dead gorgeous! I can't wait to see some of the other bios!

Thank you very much for this! We’re currently putting the finishing touches on Belladonna Black’s biography and she’ll be out as soon as that’s finished.

- Admin N

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

Do you have a Natalie Dormer fc?

She is about to be posted next. :)

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

I know a Theon roleplay when I see one! this looks magnificent

Ah, thank you!

- Admin V.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

EGLANTINE LANCASTER • 19 • FC: Tamzin Merchant • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ All things wicked were once innocent, too.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ AMIABLE → ENLIGHTENING → PLEASANT ✘ DEPRESSED → FRANTIC → ANXIOUS

     When it came to existing, there seemed to be nothing which could touch her. Indeed, though the world had storms and tempestuous trials to withstand, she remained innocent and pure. Hands folded at her abdomen, breaths working as they should. Eglantine Lancaster was an upstanding citizen of society, and there was little else she could ask for. Certainly her background was poor, but there was contentment to be found, for she had once been one of those girls who could gaze upon the face of a sunflower and realize that it would be all right for the remainder of the day. She had perfected the art of sucking in a deep breath and moving on when toil seemed to find her. She had been forced to do such a thing. If she immersed herself in preoccupation with her circumstances, she would have been driven mad long ago. For her brother, Mortimer, was a notorious drinker and spender; all of the extra funds in the home went towards his nuances. Being dependent upon him for income since the untimely death of her parents aroused resentment within her, which she pushed down. She refused to act upon it. It would cause an onslaught of trouble which she knew she didn’t need bearing down upon her head.

     Yet the resentment ended up festering, as all tampered wounds do, and magnified into something much greater. Instead of fixating her glare upon the intoxicated, wavering back of his head, she would instead stare down a normal household object, taking out all of her ire upon it without even removing herself from a seat or behind the table. One night, something odd happened. The item which she stared at, a cast iron pot, tipped over and clattered to the floor. So intent was he upon the new purchases, Mortimer failed to notice that the pot had done so of his own accord and instead chastised her for being clumsy. In secret, when all was quiet in the night, she would hone this craft, stare at random things until something within the recesses of her mind clicked and she discovered that it would move when she wished for it to. It took practice, and patience, and she would clench her fingers into her palms until they turned callused from the constant scabbing and wear. Yet she worked through the sweat at her temples and she strengthened her mind against all those negative things that she had once battled with pure optimism. It seemed as though she had been afflicted with something much greater than a simple change in attitude. Indeed, she feared that she would never understand such a gift, and furthermore, she knew what consequences might arrive of it. There were whispers of magic along the sidelines, in the alleyways, a nameless fear and a forbidden act against God, but never had Eglantine thought that she herself would become immersed in it in such a way. Never had she thought that the word witchcraft was beyond something told to frighten others into obedience. She had never seen evidence of it; therefore, she didn’t think she would acquire some sort of empowerment. Not even to this simple extent. A simple extent which soon turned complex.

     It was in this mindset, this strengthening one, that she committed her first and only crime. Upon arriving home drunk one night, Mortimer found it within himself to curse her, accuse her of witchcraft, and beat her senseless. In her agony and fright, with things flying about the house, she dove outside and retrieved the ax used to chop wood - and proceeded to hack him into bits. It wasn’t until the rush of adrenaline faded that she realized what she had done - and decided to follow through with discovering the source of the circulating rumors. Dragging off the shards of his carcass, she took all of them to a woman who specialized in death, and she begged for life to be returned to him. Perhaps a second chance would do him a bit of good. She hadn’t anticipated the rumors would be true, that Belladonna would be able to perform a ritual and bring him back to life. And what else she hadn’t realized was how much damage she had done to his body in her fright - and, therefore, how deeply she had scarred herself.

Personality →

     Despite the misfortunes to have befallen her, Eglantine was and continues to be a woman of well behavior and the best intentions. She was never one to have a bad bone in her body in comparison to the others. After the incident with her brother, she continues to hold herself together on the outside with smiles and kind gestures; an attitude she was always known for. Behind closed doors, she suffers immensely with herself and the torturous depths of her guilty mind. When she sees her brother jump back to see his own shadow or perhaps tremble while he drinks tea, she can't help but replay that night. And thus, she sees it constantly. It is entirely unrelenting. These feelings drive her to illness and perhaps, even madness. Few would assume as much but those closest to her who have witnessed the consequence of life consuming guilt. Nevertheless, she maintains herself and tends to busy her mind to stay in line with sanity. It is simply the least she can do for herself.

Facts →

Eglantine was never blessed with the abilities for music. She has a little croon of a voice and a deadliness in the clumsiness of her fingers. Instead, she prefers to hum to herself - or listen to others perform. There’s a man specifically, Ophaelia’s brother. The two of them create a dynamic duo, one that Eglantine enjoys immensely. The music played is somewhat forbidden, but the songs go by different names and therefore, it’s allowed to circulate the town square. Besides, her enjoying this music and others means she has a reason to remain in the company of her favorite siblings - both of them handsome in their own right - for as long as she likes. 

She has a strange little pastime of remaining in fields of flowers, either freshly grown or long since dead, and weaving them into thick crowns. Perhaps it’s a childish gesture, but she does like the stability of the movements. Plus, in those fields, it’s safe for her to practice her newfound powers and perfect them until she’s left trembling from a smite of fatigue. Sometimes, Alastair Montgomery joins her, which she doesn’t mind; it’s a head upon which she can measure the crowns. He’s the one who usually ends up with them anyways, and the next is Ophaelia.

Whenever she sees her brother, she starts to tremble, and she is uncertain about his newfound treatments of her. She was the one who killed him; and now, his attitudes have changed for the better. It ended up being something with a positive result, yet she cannot stop from feeling incredibly unsettled. The nausea overwhelms her at the worst times, forcing her to stop whatever she’s doing in order to regain her dignity. Though he now lives, she knows what she did. The images and nightmares won’t stop plaguing her.

She tends to waffle back and forth about how she feels when it comes to her telekinesis. At some moments, she is satisfied; she starts mulling over what could be done, what power she could bring upon herself. Then, she retreats, she sinks, she goes into confession and begs for forgiveness. But she cannot escape herself, and she knows it. Perhaps one of these days, she’ll realize which side of the line she wishes to permanently reside upon. Or perhaps this battle will continue until it kills her.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

MORTIMER LANCASTER • 28 • FC: Ben Barnes • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ In darkness, there is no forward.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ RESOURCEFUL → HONEST → HUMOROUS ✘ FRIGHTFUL → TEMPERAMENTAL → WRETCHED

     Mortimer Lancaster. What a beautiful name to befall such aggressive lips. So was his label whispered amongst those who saw him, for he was renowned for his humor and his grace. These things housed a terrible beast, one which was reserved for the four walls of the rickety house. He was one who allowed money to slip from his fingers as though it was made of glass, followed with shortened compliments and focused flirtations. He was a man who knew and understood how to obtain what he wanted, what he thought he needed. He was a man who always knew he craved something more out of the disappointments in life. Indeed, there was not a woman who would not look his way - despite sometimes his comments, especially when drunkenness loosened his lips, taking on more of a crude layer than that of charismatic. He was amiable to all, using his words to weave threads together and create beautiful stories to draw others into him as moths to the flame. But the one person who remained outside of this grateful circle was his sister, Eglantine. The only poor child in a cruel world that had known Mortimer’s wretched behavior and violent impulses. Time would turn her as much as it had turned him. His offences against her innocence would soon come to haunt him.

     Perhaps if Mortimer had his priorities in the correct order, then he would have realized being cruel and taking all of his frustrations out on Eglantine was a poor choice indeed. Alas, for all of his intellect, there was a certain childish foolishness about him, one which had him plunge into the embrace of alcohol more often than he should. It was on one of these intoxicated nights he stumbled home. He had heard whispers in the streets, whispers of witchcraft and nameless fears. This had to explain her somewhat errant behavior. Of course his sister was one of those. What else could she be, hiding away in her chambers and refusing to come out? It had nothing to do with fear of him; he was the man of the house without parental figureheads. He was the one who handled the finances. He hurt her, but she adored him. That was the way of things. This thinking - it couldn’t have been more wrong. For when he burst into the house with his slinging accusations and thrashing limbs, Eglantine took action - and refused to undergo any more abusive treatment from him. Loose lips indeed had blown a mighty crater in the side of his ship - and soon, he found himself on the floor, feeling a strange cutting, hearing his skin tear, not understanding what was going on until it was far too late. Mortimer Lancaster lay dead in a pool of his own blood and limbs and would remain such for the rest of his lack of existence. He could no longer think, nor talk, nor even hope to apologize. All chances had been taken from him to right his wrongs. Distressed young Eglantine was the child who gathered the pieces of her brother that she had broken with trembling hands and blind eyes clouded by tears. She said she was sorry, but he could not hear from the depths of the Hell he was thrown to upon the impact of his death. God had not even wanted to consider him. It was far too late to repent. As much as it was too late to unsee the terrors he had witnessed in death.

     Nevertheless, a new life emerged into him given thanks to she who slaughtered him. A breath which filled his lungs. He gasped for air, he hurt, he ached in all places. His right leg in the strangest sort of twist. He had been dismembered and he had been sown back together - and he found that each breath resembled a choking death rattle. Each twitch of his hand had a vertebrae in his spine twitching out of place. Though the first figure he laid eyes upon was Eglantine - bloodied and scarred and frightened. She had killed him and yet brought him back. He found himself filled with a new emotion, one never felt before - fear. Fear and hesitance, and extreme sensitivity to both touch and emotion. His walking would never be normal; that odd twitch in his spine occurred with each movement of his right ring finger. The jugular pulsed with an irregular heartbeat, and his slow shamble was more of a distorted dance. However, he was alive. And he was bound and determined to not do a thing to change that. For Hell was some place he did not wish to revisit.

Personality →

     Mortimer was once an amiable young man with women at his beck and call. There was no need of him to be as wretched and vile as he was. But alas, alcohol consumed his later years leading up to his death and distorted his logical considerations of character. The abuse his loving sister endured under his authority was what damned him. And yet, after her mistake, she still had nothing against him. When Mortimer awoke anew, he insisted he saw Hell and the Devil was very much real. As his life was renewed, so was his fear. He could no longer turn a corner without being frightened of his own shadow. He was far more obedient - like a dog some would suggest - and reverent. With his heightened fear came a pious attitude. At night, he’d awake in a sweat and shake Eglantine awake, insisting they must pray with fear in his eyes. He had become a better person, yet still so fearsome. But some insist the day will come where he goes back to his old ways and the Devil will come knocking again.

Facts →

Mortimer is somewhat crippled. His limbs no longer function normally and cause him pain if he incorrectly positions himself. He requires a walking stick often. However, his posture is still youthful. Most of his problems seem to occur in his arms and legs. No one is sure whether he will get better with time or if his bones perhaps grew back awkwardly, thus permanently damaging him.

Alastair often wants to study Mortimer, though Mortimer is gravely unsettled by Alastair and insists to Eglantine that the Devil has come back to take him in the form of an innocent man. It is believed that because he is undead, he is extremely sensitive to the second realm of the deceased and can easily detect entities and paranormal abnormalities. This would further confirm that Alastair is indeed suffering from something demonic and is not merely insane.

Mortimer earned his income as a barber and continues to do so. As far as most are concerned, nothing ever happened to him since he was so quickly retrieved. Most believe he was in a terrible riding accident as he states. However, under his clothing, he conceals many wounds where he was obviously reconstructed. He is very persistent about hiding it all to protect his own dignity and his sister’s innocence. Such work could get him and all the others killed.

All of the associated witches now trust him with their information and he even seats some of their meetings. Godiva enjoys using him for means of communication with the dead which is why she prefers to keep him around, His connection to the deceased seems to be stronger than anyone’s.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

OPHAELIA BLACK • 20 • FC: Janet Montgomery • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ Never was there a greater pain than to ache for something you once had, but never will again.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ WISE → MODEST → NURTURING ✘ CONNIVING → MANIPULATIVE → SELFISH

     A resounding enigma and tranquil daughter, Ophaelia is strictly her mother’s product despite what love she holds for her ambitious father. A dreamer, fascinated by Greek tragedies, she is difficult to dissect until her exterior is broken. It’s the interior that tells the tale of a conflicted soul with strict boundaries and safe morals. Ever since she was a small child, she seldom spoke but often heard and from that, she built the foundation of her life. The children she associated with called her dark and terrible, earning her a less than fulfilling childhood. She instead spent her days over books as the pages could not scream obscenities at her just because her vibe was odd as many would insist. Even some mothers would confront her own, worried their daughters might be too heavily influenced by Ophaelia’s strange anti-social behavior. And by her teen years, she kept only one friend. Eglantine was much like her, but she was not. And her brother was handsome, keeping good company with suggestive humor that Ophaelia never entirely understood, but still laughed at to appease his ego. It was the way of men. Something that Ophaelia understood as she lived among many of whom she always desired to please with petty gestures.

     She and Eglantine spent their days drawing circles in the dirt and carving words into trees deep within the woods. And though Ophaelia did not speak much, she loved to sing as the two would dance in circles, pretending to be ladies of court. They were as innocent as time allowed them to be, though would soon each face their own traumatic and similar incidents. When Eglantine neglected to show in the woods one day where the sun did not shine, Ophaelia took to her own entertainment and began to sing. Her voice led a little boy fetching wood for his mother to her. He watched from behind a tree before Ophaelia extended her hand to him with the offer of a dance. He was only nine and as sweet as honey. His fascination with her grew the more she sang to him as the following days came and left. But his fascination grew too profoundly and he soon found himself tangled in an open flame. Ophaelia developed a motherly affection for the boy. She spoke little but cared for him with an open heart as he became the one good thing in her life. Not long after, the boy accidentally stumbled upon a ritual. When he confronted Ophaelia, she confessed as she had thought he’d keep her secret. She was bitterly wrong. Now frightened of her, he ran for his father, but Ophaelia instead made an offering. Since she was a witch, she promised she could show him paradise in his reflection by the river. Intrigued, he paused to follow her. Hand in hand, the two walked into the river waist deep. Gently, she told him to close his eyes and count to ten. When he’d open his eyes, he’d see paradise. He got to three before she plunged his head underwater while she sobbed and held him down long past the moment he stopped fighting back. It was either his life or theirs and it was her fault. She continued to mourn his death and wore black only. When he turned up missing, Ophaelia did not need to act distressed as she already was. His body was never recovered.

     When her mother, Belladonna, took Alastair into her care after he attempted to kill himself, Ophaelia assisted. She saw it as compensation for the life she took. And just as well, Alastair reminded her so much of the little boy she knew. She befriended the man who began to frequently spend time with her and Eglantine. Meanwhile, Ophaelia began to associate with Voodoo in a downwards spiral of character. No one ever knew about the little boy she had drowned, though many still presumed she was going mad in her own mind. She mourned for a son that was not her own, though felt so. And thus, she was not entirely sane. The Voodoo Priestess made Ophaelia an offering from her Gods. Every year, Ophaelia would sacrifice one man to the river so that she may birth the little boy’s soul from her own womb and give him life again by her 25th birthday. She accepted the offer, desperate to have the little boy back. It seemed such a small price to pay.

Personality →

     Ophaelia is incredibly soft spoken and does not speak often. Many see her as gentle and endearing while others are not so easily fooled by the facade she places over her true identity. Some are suspicious about her having something to do with the disappearance of the small boy, though his mother continues to plead Ophaelia’s innocence, knowing how much she loved that boy. She proceeds to have an affect over people that makes her approachable and charming without effort much like her mother which can be a common trait considering she shares this similarity with her brother. As gentle as she is, Ophaelia is far past her own innocence that was wrongfully robbed from her. She sometimes wishes to tell Eglantine she killed the boy and for what cause, but is so profoundly shamed that she cannot even bring voice to it. Giving it voice seems to make it more real. Despite having killed him, there came to be nothing she loved more than the child she brought end to.

Facts →

Ophaelia enjoys music, though singing more than anything. With her voice, she is able to enchant people much like how her brother uses his violin to hypnotize people. The two together provide an interesting combination. It was her enchantments that brought the little boy into her company intentionally. She was lonely and in need of company. She sees her voice now as both a blessing and a curse. Had she foreseen such misfortune, she would have sewn her mouth shut.

Like her brother, she is a violinist though she does not harbor his ability to enchant his audience through his stringed melodies. In the ritual performed to bring Mortimer back to life, she played on the violin alongside Tobias a song commonly referred to as “God’s Eye” to finalize the ritual. The song is however thought to in fact be called “The Devil’s Dance” and is not played by common folk who fear the composition. The fact that Mortimer insisted he arose from Hell could perhaps insist the song is indeed associated with the Devil.

Ophaelia has dreams of her father killing her. She believes they are premonitions but at the same time, she does not want to. She loves him far too much, though has suspicion he may be their downfall. Nevertheless, she had never spoken a word about it to neither her mother nor brother. The only one to have known a hint of her worry is Victor who promised to never let anything hurt their family and that she could rely on him to protect them all against Robert should this be a foreseeing of the future.

Most of Ophaelia’s time is spent with Alastair and the Lancasters. Mortimer was never quite the same after the accident, but really, none of them were the same anymore. Their troubles perhaps brought them together not as a blood family, but one formed from understanding. None of them were perfect, but Ophaelia was the only one who continued to hide such fatal flaws in her own character.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

ALASTAIR MONTGOMERY • 25 • FC: Harry Treadaway • OPEN/CLOSED

❝ There is no relief when the Devil seeks your company.❞

PERSONALITY:

✔ INTELLIGENT → AMIABLE → REVERENT ✘ PAINFULLY SHY → ANXIOUS → BIPOLAR

     He is a vile abomination, product of normality and witchcraft. Alastair Montgomery was cursed from the date of his conception and would continue to suffer until his last breath. A story like his began only three months into his life. The son of Cressida Vaughn and Viktor Montgomery, his first few months were considered delightful and promising towards the development of his future. But beyond the boundaries of his memory, his mother was beheaded on the accusation of witchcraft and his father’s demise followed soon after to be seen as an accomplice. This was the story told by his adoptive mother and aunt, Godiva. The truth is however a story of betrayal, loathing and unfortunate circumstances. His entire life, Alastair was told his mother was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and he lived his entire life by such a motto. Early on, he showed signs of aggressive bipolar behavior while he was commonly known to be a well mannered young boy who recited his prayers before bed and studied his moralities carefully. He believed in the kindness of strangers and in the goodness of witchcraft as Godiva raised him to think despite his Catholic teachings. Open minded and just, his only fault was in the development of his own mind.

     Alastair excelled in his academic endeavors and took a particular fondness to the construction of the human anatomy. By his later teen years, he would find dead animals in his spare time and execute experiments on their dead carcasses. However, after just a few months of this practice, he grew bored with his materials and heavily desired to find something akin to the human body. At the age of twenty, his life was profoundly altered when he wandered down an empty alley with a drunken lady who could hardly keep herself upright. Instinctively, he offered to help her home. But that was all he remembered before his world turned black. He awoke to first take notice of a dead woman’s body in his home, severely mutilated with notes scribbled down beside her body. Observations. Alastair screamed and thrashed around, frightened of the sight he knew he certainly had not contributed to. But the notes were in his handwriting and the body was on his kitchen table. The blood was on his hands and his own sweat trickled down his forehead in tiny drops. Keen to turn himself in, he first sought out Godiva to explain the story to her before the town media would turn him into a monster. Godiva simply suggested it wasn’t necessary and disposed of the body within a day. The woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And when it kept happening, she continued to pacify Alastair before ridding of the many dead bodies he savagely brought end to. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Alastair could not understand his impulse nor could he remember hurting those people. To see their faces, it brought him resounding misery. Sleep turned scarce and his eyes grew tired without any context given to those who questioned his appearance. Alastair began blaming a voice in his head, insisting it was very much real and possessed his body when it saw opportunity. Seeing only one way to end the madness, Alastair made an attempt at his life when he was only twenty three.

     Alastair’s suicide attempt was a horrific scene, discovered by Belladonna. Red garnished the once bare wood of his home and in the distance, there were inhumane sounds that emitted from Alastair’s throat and mouth. Everything had been either broken or accidentally toppled over in a struggle. Bloody hand prints slid down the walls, leading to a convulsing, very much alive, Alastair. He attempted to slash his own throat, though he did not die despite having bled for hours and severing his jugular. He simply drowned for hours until he was discovered. Drowned, but would not die. Belladonna nurtured him back to health, though he suffered a long three days with heavy convulsions, bleeding and struggle to breathe. It was then that Godiva took him back into her full authority. It became clear he held the key to immortality; a remedy yet to be discovered for use, which intrigued Godiva, though also threatened her. He was now in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Personality →

     Alastair is described as outlandish and extremely eerie. He has a frequent twitch in his hands and appears to slump his shoulders. His blinking is one of his more defined characteristics. The frequent blinking is thought to compensate for his lack of sleep while others just name it off as a nervous habit much like the twitch in his hands. However, he is incredibly smart, able to solve both academic and common logical problems swiftly. Despite his obvious mental problems, the girls see him as a gentle creature who desperately wants to resolve the issue at hand. Regardless, few go out of their way to speak to him as his demeanor is naturally very reserved and sometimes, frightened. He talks fast, prompting him to often stutter, as he tends to think faster than he can speak. The second identity within him identifies as Apollyon and is profoundly evil with the least of pure intents. Some of the girls believe it is Satan within Alastair, recruiting souls into Hell.

Facts →

Alastair stands exactly at 6 feet, only an inch above his aunt who is known as a tall woman with elongated features all around. Nevertheless, he is hardly menacing. He does not slouch, though he often stands with his right leg extended which gives him a shorter appearance.

All his life, he has been known to be awkward around women and thus, he always focused on his work, intending to study the human anatomy so he may find new cures, sicknesses and anomalies. However, he is intrigued by ladies as his notebook entries would suggest. Highly observant, he writes down all their movements and perfections. One could say he is far more attuned to the female bodily functions as opposed to men and seems to quietly admire them.

His closest friends are Ophaelia Black and Eglantine Lancaster. He often questions Eglantine about her brother, asking how his movements are progressing while he again adapts to his previously mutilated body as the subject continues to profoundly astonish him. Mortimer himself does not appear keen to converse with Alastair given thanks to whatever demon does lurk beneath the surface of his character.

Alastair has a scar across his neck that he hides with clothing. When he gets overwhelmingly nervous, he grabs at his neck and swallows hard. Only few know about his suicide attempt which includes Godiva and the Black family since he remained in Belladonna's care during his recovery.

[thewitchinghourrp-blog]

Oh my god, I am really excited to see the bios! This roleplay looks great!

Thank you! We're very excited to start releasing them tomorrow. This has all been in the works for a long while now.

- Admin V.