Born the child of a succubus and a politician, the Witch grew up feared and hated by the abomination that was her birth. Such disgust was seen most strongly in the eyes of the clergymen who took great lengths to antagonize her and her family, demanding she be burned at the stake. Thus, the locals began calling her the Witch, blaming her for any misfortunes they suffered while yet she still breathed. Her curse was rumored to be the root of all hardships the town faced, including drought, illness, and even the urge to sin. Although the last one may have had more to do with the fact that she was extremely beautiful. Nevertheless, the church-led townsfolk began to form mobs in order to chase this evil from their land. And so, her and her father were forced to flee the town in order to save their lives. Her mother, meanwhile, stayed in hopes of someday convincing the town to let her husband and daughter come back. However, the Witch has now been away twelve years and is yet to hear back from her.
Since fleeing she has also had little contact with her father, who abandoned her once she was able to take care of herself. Honestly though, she didn’t really miss him, nor following in his footsteps. She instead decided she wanted to become an alchemist in an attempt to give her name more credibility. After all, what is a witch without her potions? And so for years she learned the tools of the trade, mixing countless concoctions and learning new recipes wherever she went. Eventually her love of potions led her here into the Frozen Abyss, home of the Purple Ice Lotus. This rare flower only grew in the subarctic climate of the Northern Realm and could be found just a few miles north of Kaltbury. And so she booked a room at Jazmin’s Tavern and began preparing for her journey deeper into the snow to obtain this very rare ingredient. During her stay at the inn she has spent most of her time talking to the Scholar who shares a similar passion for traveling and attaining knowledge. The person she is really the most interested in though is the Ranger. He just sits at his booth and doesn’t say anything. His looks and scars make her wonder how tough of a life he has had, but she still thinks he is cute. The Saint is the one that truly scares her though and not only because of her past. Most of the guys here stare at her because of her ample beauty (or ample booty as the Bard says), but it’s not lust she sees in the Saint’s eyes. It’s something different, something unnerving. She has not had any run-ins with the church in years and hopes these fears are nothing more than childish paranoia. After all, the “Curse” rumors had long since been stripped from her side. Although with the way the googly-eyed Prince was staring at her, she still felt like she was cursed if not just a little…
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