You Rang? [AW]


8 y/o medium Female

Dimly lit were her caverns, and busy she certainly was.

Wolves cascaded away from the Tombs where she returned, masking the catacombs with her scent and signature smoke which wafted from the entrance.

Behind the sinisterly decorative unicorn hide she’d scavenged were the claws, furs and skin samples of most of which had crossed paths with the Witch. Naervon, Nocturne, Nephys, Koqc, Sybil, Zero... She collected such things to keep control and tabs of her environment best she could. Within her catacombs she’d stash some of these delicate memories that she’d have trouble re-creating, and ones which were other wolves and equines personal secrets she’d discovered while rooting around in their business’ over time. Each stashed orb she’d hide held an importance in which she could not risk being seen until SHE wanted them to be, so behind this blood stained and gem decorated hide sat her prized possessions.

Madame Siobhan stood her ground and made sure these lands knew she’d returned to what she felt was her rightful home, all while she cleansed the negative energy which clung tightly to the memories the woman bottled. Each dream, nightmare, piece of history of her own. Each rise, fall and overturn of this land. The Voodoo woman had used a few heavy and powerful spells to capture and hang as orbs continuously produce and hang these warnings and stories to all whom pass by. Madame Siobhan would make sure anyone who entered would know what they were getting into, for her days were simply just beginning again. Being thought to be burnt, killed, whatever the people of her homeland thought they were doing to her only created the ultimate form of the woman. She was proud.

Madame Siobhan continued to organize her stash as an unexpected rush of winter air carried like a torpedo through her caverns. Emotionless, the Queen of Voodoo stood statuesquely whilst she awaited whomever navigated towards her. WOOSH. The door opened. Oxygen hit the dying fire, temporarily creating a vortex of ash and burning embers with each passing moment her door was ajar. 
Bone hung and feather strung dreadlocks whipped and whirred causing a decent amount of chaos in her line of vision. "If dis’ guppy kill me fiy’ah Me swear tah Lucifer ‘Aye be ha’hvestin dey organs an’ keepin’ dem batty as ah trophy..." Madame grumbled mentally as her rickety, rotten door snapped back at its frame, being as it was fabricated from tendon, which stretched and gave way as a spring would. Much expecting a beast of some sort to appear once the ash settled, but the womans turquoise gaze reflected nothing. Like always. 

For what seemed like centuries (literally,) the only thing crossing her threshold was the spirits she invited into her home with grace, and the memories she stole from others which lay dormant til their day came. 

The woman's door was open for business, and soon she’d go door knocking to advertise and collect the needy.

But busy she was, so back to work she got.

"This is me thinking" || "This is me talking"

Code by Sorewounds @


1 y/o small Female
She didn't know what she was walking into, not even in the slightest. Her eyes were straight forward and no fear shined in them. She was as dauntless as a snake coiled to strike. In her pack she held two large snails and the foot of a rabbit soaked in its own blood. In the stories her mother once told her, the witch of the wilds would ask for these things in order to bargain for power. She would need power if she would rise to the top. Slowly she entered the valley, her eyes scanning the trees and mountain tops for anything out the ordinary but nothing seemed off. Her mo-hawk flapped in the strong breeze that buffed her from behind. She didn't know if the stories were true but she wanted them to be so they would be. She had traveled for days to get here and even longer to find the specific items for trade. The snails were the hardest part.. Old snails were hard to tell apart form regular young one and the rabbit was so fast it made her groan just thinking about it. That was all in the past though and hopefully it would be worth it. 

She was just standing there as if waiting for an invitation into the nest of the beast but none came. She lifted her muzzle and took in all the smells.  "Heh.." She growled out loud and picked up a pretty fresh scent. Her body jolting into action and racing after it. The scent wrapped around the side of the valley and as she followed it her hopes grew. She saw the beginnings of a catacomb, its entrance covered by an old wooden wall. She didn't know what to call it but it looked inviting and almost like something lived behind it. She stopped in the trees along the outside of the caves. Her heart pounding in her chest and yet excitement coursed through her veins. She had found something but would that something be what she wanted it to be? 

Suddenly the wooden wall flung open and the scent of an old fire and odd ends lifted to her glands. Her eyes light up at the sight of shadows and hanging locks calling out to her. She had made it. This was the place.. A shadow moved inside but before she could say anything the wall flung close once more and she was left to ponder its meaning. Had the witch declined her entry? Had she been too slow? Did the thing open on its own? With a grumpy look and rebellious heart she strut out to the wooden wall and stopped before it.Dixie looked up and down and all around it. She didn't quite know what to expect but she wasn't waiting for answers either. With one paw she hooked her claws around the edge of the wood and swung the thing open. Her body prancing in like a regal young pup, her hair bouncing along with her golden piercings. "Are you the witch of the wilds?" She demanded in a confident but obviously clueless kind of way. She didn't know what she was doing but she would do anything to get her paws on as much power as she could.


8 y/o medium Female

She shuffled around her ingredients, and every so often the woman would step on the bladder with a duck bill attached to it much like a fire-blower would act on a fireplace as it whooshed air toward the ever growing flame. Perhaps she was getting carried away, but the heat of the rocks dried the herbs and fresh kills she had strung along the walls and ceilings in various stages… it fueled her own ego just as much as it fed the fire as a wicked grin appeared upon her otherwise stern features. A grand ole fire she was having, and perhaps you could say she was having the time of her life. Her leg pumping the fire as she threw herbs into it, filling the air with a pungent smell that one couldn’t put a finger on but in a seconds time a creature crawled from the pits of the fire. The sludgy toad had been burrowed underneath her fire for centuries as it looked, but the woman simply cackled as it made its way to the door, and the woman purposely let the old man frog escape. 
Or try to.

As the smoke settled, it was obvious that she was not incorrect about a visitor arriving at her doorstep, but Madame missed a critical detail about the said brave creature. It was a young girl, and Madame had looked eye level to herself as if an adult had stopped by. Her heart sank into the pit of her soured stomach, as the toad attempted to climb the brightly colored femoras toes for safety. Her emotions lifted momentarily as she found amusement in the amphibian's actions ; she’d catch up with the toad later on if he did in fact find solace in the girl. However, her lips stayed pursed and her facial features showed no signs of how she felt, for the poker face she’d perfected would always stay true. From her toes Madame’s toxic gaze would visibly eye her guest to the tip of her ears, stopping for a moment's time to soak in the view before she shuddered internally. She’d never /liked/ kids, for they’d never served a purpose to her other than getting in her way… perhaps this one was here for something other than asking if she had the right den. So her plan worked to alert the curious and most daring of wolves in Nideria of her presence, she should have known it was going to be the young ones whom would find her in this location. 

The faint smell of blood would linger in the air along with her sickeningly sweet scent, like a walking bloody curious cotton candy with legs… What was she here for? Madame knew the blood was that of a hare, but what the devil was a child doing coming so boldly to her door… perhaps this wasn’t going to turn out to be such a bad thing…

"Aye gal, it be me yah found… what yah name be and what’cha got in yah purse fah me?" she joked figuring the girl was either just as dark and twisty as she and held onto bloodied things, or she’d come bearing gifts. 

"Ye be a brave gal cmin tah de door ah a woman like me…. Who told yah bout me gal? What’s yah name?" Madame could potentially take the furs right off the cotton candy princess and throw them in the flame to find out her history…. But she’d give her a chance to speak for herself first. 

"Dis me ‘tinkin" || "Dis me speakin’"

Code by Sorewounds @


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