The Ambarino Coven's Revenge (The Undesirable x Tiny Dino)

[The Undesirable]

To many, the small building tucked between a rundown haberdashery and a now-closed barbershop was off-limits, inaccessible. Not in that they were expressly forbidden from entering, but rather, they'd sooner be found dead than to step foot in such an establishment. Most every knowledgable folk in Saint Denis knew the story of the Skinwalker who owned the bar, which was fittingly named Skinwalker's, judging by the blue words painted across the forward-facing wall of the storefront.

Kai was something of a legend; a lone woman of Navajo descent who single-handedly tore apart a Confederate regiment over three decades ago, and led slaves across state boarders on the back of her draconic form. Despite being near a century old, she looked fresh out of her teenage years, and despite being blinded by a gun-slinging goblin, she had been known to pounce on would-be robbers in the form if a massive leopard, relying on her other enhanced senses to guide her.

Though her reputation was fearsome, the members of the magical and supernatural communities all revered and admired Kai, and treated Skinwalker's as a sort of safe haven. Abd truth be told, her doors were open to anyone friendly to her peers, evidenced by the human farmhand treating his Elven wife to a nice dinner in one corner of the bar, and the older Mexican gentleman who helped run the bar despite his decidedly non-magical heritage. Still, those friendly to her kind were few and far between, so these human visitors were the exception, not the norm, and since many establishments banned magical beings, it was the perfect location for Delilah's meeting.

Upstairs, at a large table, sat seven individuals, awaiting an eighth.

One was a grey-skinned demoness with curled ram's horns and glowing orange eyes.

The second was a genuine golem, a man-shaped creature made of clay with two shotguns slung over his back.

The third appeared to be a zombie of some sort or the other, his hand showing no lack of dexterity as he twirled a LeMatt revolver with a bored sort of dexterity.

The fourth individual was something of a legend similar to Kai, except instead of being a Skinwalker, he was a demigod, a child of Thor no less. He was infamous in any town with an active underground community dealing with bare knuckle fights. He'd killed dozens with his fists that soat lightning and had split skulls with his enchanted sledgehammer.

The fifth appeared to be human, an aging man with short grey hair and a scraggly beard of a matching color that trailed down to his stomach. Though he appeared human, he was something of a mage, but rather than being able to cast a wide variety of spells, his enchanted goods, weapons, and clothing were workd famous. Any item that bore the mark of Seamus Goody was a coveted item. In fact, every member gathered around the table had something he'd made.

The sixth member wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a blond man of Elven blood who was decent with a six-shooter and had a few offensive spells he'd mastered.

The seventh member, and the one who'd arranged this gathering, was Delilah Marshall, and anyone who was up-to-date on the affairs of magical beings may know her to be the last surviving member of the Ambarino Coven, a group of witches who lived in the snowy mountains of the north, wiped out after the wife of a mayor fled his side to be with the leader of the coven.

Delilah was someone with a memorable aura, and many would say an unforgettable appearance as well. Her hair was somewhere between blonde and red, similar to the orange-pink of a sky bleeding with the Ray's of a setting sun, and it tumbled down her back in a messy waterfall of waves. Her eyes were just barely tinged with enough blue to not be called grey, and were framed by dark lashes, giving her an intense gaze. Her features were simultaneously feminine and strong, with softer, round cheeks splashed with light freckles and shaped by vaguely prominent cheekbones and a more form jawline and chin. Her arms were sleek and strong, covered in tanned skin marked with small scars from her tears living outside society and bared by the short sleeves of her black dress, which hugged her slim stomach, generous chest, and strong hips.

Her cleavage, of which there was plenty to see due to her dresses low neckline, was covered in enchanted ink. A orange-yellow pentagram had been made across her breasts, the lines appearing as if they'd been made by lightning, then boxed within the outline of a hexagon with lines designed to look like flowing drafts of silver air. These designs were, in fact, scars, self-inflicted, then inlaid with enchanted precious metals courtesy of Seamus Goody. Such body modifications were part of what allowed witches to be such powerful magic wielders.

Delilah was getting impatient, her boot-clad foot anxiously tapping at the wooden floors as they awaited the finally invited party.

 

[Tiny Dino]

Saint Denis, she hated this town. It stunk and everyone would rather run you over with their horse and wagon then have a decent conversation with you. An if you were different? You might as well hang yourself, all this town wanted was people who would work for nothing and pay top dollar for garbage. She avoided coming to this place at all costs, but she had received a letter. A simple letter inviting her to meeting of the minds about the cruelty of the states government. She was curious, but cautious after all it could be a plan to k a bunch unwanted misfits in one place and arrest them.

It was the main reason she decided to show up late, if it was a trap she would show up to see the guards outside or show up to see all the other arrested. Plus, it was harder to sneak through the streets when you had a bounty on your head as high as hers.

Her name was Jasper, a woman who had travelled from the western states constantly trying to stay ahead of the law, To any normal person Jasper looked like a woman who worked on the farm and did nothing but lift weights all day long. She stood over six feet tall and her skin was dark, heavily tanned from the many hours she had spent in the sun. , cuts and scars marred her skin but not from cutting herself on tools or injuring herself at work, no they were from running from the law.

Jasper was a werewolf, her mother had been attacked while she was pregnant and Jasper had been born with the curse as her mother died in labour. Her father to stricken with grief at the lose of his wife left her with a farmer, she was raised as a farm hand and used as free labour. But when she turned sixteen something happened, she became a horrid monster. A monster that people wanted to hunt and mount on their walls, a bounty was placed on her head and she was chased from town to town, if someone realized what she wanted they always tried to capture her.

So from that day she travelled the land, constantly hunted, always looking for shelter and food. She hoped this meeting would change things for her, the fact that she was a mythical beast and deserved to die just seemed extreme. As she entered the building she slowly made her way over to the small crown, pulling her hood back to reveal her face, smiling softly as she cleared her voice “Sorry I’m late.. “

 

[The Undesirable]

Delilah observed the final member of this little meeting with a hint of a satisfied grin. This woman appeared strong, and it wasn't just because of her incredible height and the bulk to her physique that her cloak could only hide so much, but Delilah could sense an aura of quiet power from the newcomer. She gave a small nod in response to Jasper's words, and she gestured with her right hand to the final empty seat as she herself stood, leaning forward a bit to brace her hands on the table.


"Thank you all for coming." She opened once Jasper had sat down. Her voice was clear and smooth, without the accent that almost everybody in this part of the country did. Witches were always taught to be without dialect, and know many languages to, in a sense, not ne so attached to specific locations. They could love where they lived, but they were taught that home does not define a place, but instead in the people you cared for.

She took the time to look each gathered member of the meeting in the eye, or at least in the case of the golem, where their eye should be. "I've called each of you here due to having a reputation of strength or power, coupled with a connection to the Doyle Gang or the lawmen of Ambarino, New Hanover, West Elizabeth, or Lemoines. Each of you has had conflict with at least one of these groups in the past."

"As you may know, my coven was..." She paused briefly, a flicker of pain in her grey-blue eyes, though it was gone as quick as it came, replaced by a cool indifference. "My coven was slain less than a fortnight ago, by a mixture of these groups. Our only crime was offering a woman a new way of life, and fir that reason, United States marshalls and various deputies saw fit to hire members of the Doyle gang to wipe us out. And aside from me, they succeeded."