WITCH, william hurst

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You’ve been described by every single negative trait you can think of for being born under the wrong star with the right powers. You’ve counted them, noted them, and divided them by ferocity. It’s something you can now flip through in the evenings and laugh at. Fitting the stereotype is unexpectedly fun.

You wear old button up shirts and stolen bow ties, sleep in an underground room you could barely strangle a bat in, but you are still defined by the time of opulence in your life. Your time of opulence. Combed hair, first class trains, your own bath, your own people, and your own magic.

It was the time before you could trust a bone outside your own body. Now even your saintly mother who forced you into white magic is nothing more than a street whore. Now thanks to that beautiful betrayal of trust, it seems like other worlds of magic will always belong in fables from a religion you’ll never believe in. Fundamentally unreachable.

White magic is your curse. It strangles you little by little. You’re a lot better than all the scum of the land but no one will ever know. Not even yourself.



White Magic He used to be a member of an elite witch family, and was known throughout as the 'true' master of the house who never allowed the true extent of his talent to come under scrutiny. His defensive spells were once widely known for their potency and imagination, his healing magic, known to be second to none, what, about ten years ago now. He can still live up to that, and more, but now with his new game and new world he enjoys embodying the soul of a question mark.

[attr="class","appname"]WILLIAM HURST

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AGE: 29
SEX: M
RACE: HUMAN
HOMELAND: SHARA
CONTRACT: N