Your journey begins by travelling through a portal hidden in the woods. Don’t worry—there’s a path to guide you. Your first task is to find one of the three sages who will test you. Passing this test will earn you a special stone, allowing you to visit the magical realm whenever you need, though it takes time to recharge.

The sages and other trainees are NPCs played by the host, ensuring a dynamic and engaging experience. Upon arrival in Ravenwood, you’ll be provided with the house of your dreams, fully customizable as soon as you learn a few spells. After completing your first test, you’ll receive a spellbook in the mail, which will be essential for your magical journey.

You’ll also be shown key locations in Ravenwood, such as the shops, the duelling grounds, and given a map of the mansion where the sages live and train other witches and wizards. As you climb the ranks, you can gain a familiar—a magical companion. You’re limited to one, maybe two if you have the right persuasion, so choose wisely.

Dorian Devaney | 23 | M | White Magic user | Mentions: open

The portal closed with an odd sucking sound as soon as Dorian stepped into the rich autumn forest. He glanced over his shoulder; there was no trace remaining of the portal, only trees stretching on for as far as he could see.

The forest was thick and lush, even though the trees were beginning to shed their leaves. Everything was cast in varying shades of red and gold, and the fading sunlight peeking in through the forest canopy bathed the scene in a comforting glow.

Dorian fished around in his pocket for the worn piece of paper he'd stashed there. The scenery was beautiful, but he got the worrying impression that he was rather far away from any kind of civilization. Besides, the woods were almost eerily gorgeous considering the chill in the air. Dorian would have assumed that the trees would have dropped their leaves and gone dormant for the winter by now.

The paper - addressed from A.V., J.D., and A.F., whoever they were - included a hand-drawn map below the contents of the letter. It was written on a parchment that looked and felt ancient, and Dorian worried that he would accidentally tear it every time he took it out to look it over again. The map showed a path beginning at the portal that led into a little town. That was a bit concerning; Dorian searched the entire surrounding area and found no sign of a path.

He had been searching for nearly fifteen minutes when the toe of his shoe bumped against something firm, much harder than the soft soil he'd been walking on. He bent and brushed some leaves away from what turned out to be a large, flat stepping stone. There was another just a few feet away, leading deeper into the forest. The falling foliage must have obscured the pathway. Dorian wondered privately why these all-knowing sages neglected to mention that detail in the letter.

He set out along the path, carefully clearing piles of leaves away whenever the sensation of stone disappeared from beneath his feet. He realized quickly that even though the path had appeared to take him deeper into the woods, the trees and shrubs around him were swiftly thinning. It only took a few minutes of walking before he emerged from the edge of the woods, blinking roughly as the setting sun's rays illuminated him.

Once his eyes adjusted, Dorian realized he was standing at the edge of what must have been the town on the map. It was significantly bigger than he'd thought; the village was dotted with small cottages and a few larger buildings, perhaps businesses. In the distance, he could just barely make out what looked like some sort of grand mansion or castle. He consulted his map again. An 'X' on the other side of the town marked the location of his living quarters.

Dorian kept his map in his hand as he walked. The town wasn't especially large, but it consisted of many crooked alleys and pathways that he was sure he would immediately become lost in. The smells of fresh baked bread wafted towards him from somewhere near the center of town, along with the autumnal scents of apples, cinammon, and pumpkin. His stomach growled, and he made a mental note to investigate the source of those scents after he was settled in.

The sun was low on the horizon by the time Dorian reached his house. It was a small, squatty cottage, covered with spindly strands of ivy reaching towards the thatched roof. The rusted iron gate shrieked as he shoved it open. The yard was partially overrun with flowers and weeds, but Dorian found it charming despite himself. Around the back, he could spot the edge of what looked like a plot of herbs or vegetables.

The wooden door was decorated with brass hinges and locks, and it seemed to swing open as soon as Dorian's fingers brushed the knob. The light was dim inside, but the few remaining rays of sun streaming in through the windows illuminated everything well enough.

The main room seemed to be a combination of a kitchen and living room. There was a small, antique-looking stove along one wall, and a rickety wooden table outfitted with a few mismatched chairs. Along the other wall was an old sofa and a handful of soft chairs, all with cozy-looking blankets slung over their backs. There was a tall bookcase next to the sofa, its shelves brimming with volumes. Dorian brushed his fingers over their spines. Most of their titles had something to do with magic, things he'd never even heard of. He shook his head and decided to tackle them another day.

There were a few candles scattered on shelves and windowsills throughout the room. Dorian rummaged through some drawers until he discovered a box of matches and lit them all carefully, then proceeded down the hallway.

There were only two more rooms; Dorian hadn't realized quite how small the cottage was. One was a bedroom containing a full bed heaped with quilts, most of which looked handmade, and an intricately carved dresser. The other was a regular bathroom, though Dorian did note the rather spacious tub attached to the wall.

He returned to the small bedroom and prodded the mattress curiously. It felt incredibly soft; he flopped down onto it and stared at the ceiling, reliving the day's events in his mind. He'd stepped through an otherworldly portal based on the instructions in a letter signed with the initials of people he'd never met. He'd made it to this unfamiliar town to find a house prepared specifically for his arrival. He consulted the letter again; there were no further instructions on what to do after he'd found the cottage. Dorian frowned and tossed it onto the nightstand next to the bed. He'd managed to get this far; if these sages wanted him to do anything else, they could come tell him in person.

Dorian paused, then sat up and carefully tucked the letter back into his jeans pocket. It might not be of use to him anymore, but it made him feel a bit more reassured to have it with him. Already missing his squishy new mattress, he hauled himself out of bed and headed back towards the front room to continue exploring the house.

Garvin Campbell | M | 23 | Gray Magic User | Mentions; Open.

*~*~*~*

As Garvin walked along the cobble street at the mouth of Ravenwood, where the forest met the town, it wasn’t hard to understand why his grandmother had always said she regretted leaving. The streets didn’t seem that busy, at least not yet, and the people who were moving about didn’t seem in a rush. Even better than any of that though, was that everyone seemed to just be minding their own business.

--

He looked back down at the paper that held the directions to what was supposed to be his new home. Admittedly, it was kind of hard to read due to how much he’d fiddled around with it on his way here, the writing somewhat smeared and the paper slightly torn. Regardless, his eyes searched the street names and nearby shops in hopes they’d match the address on the paper.

--

As he went on his way through the town on his search, he made note to eventually visit the bakery he’d passed for some seeded bread. He hadn’t seen too many doves and pigeons just yet, or even crows for that matter, but he doubted that there were none. And even if there somehow weren’t any in the town, there were birds in the forests surrounding it. He’d heard a few birdsongs on his way in, after all.

--

The town square was only slightly more busy than the rest of the streets, which was to say, not very busy at all. It was nothing like the bustling crowd that Garvin was used to. Which, truth be told, was beyond being a simple nice change of pace. Truthfully, the only thing that even seemed remotely out of place was the fox standing in the middle of the huge water fountain that was the centerpiece of the town square. But even he could tell that that seemed more like something to laugh about while alone rather than while in the middle of the town.

--

He paused as he passed said water fountain, only for a brief moment as a flowerbed with anemones, nerines, and dahlias caught his eyes. He glanced at the other flowerbeds as he started walking again, noting with a slight grin that all of them held different autumn-based perennials. Asters being one of the more common ones, as they always seemed to be. Not that he had anything against them, of course. They were great flowers with plenty of variety. It almost seemed like the town’s chosen flower though, with how often goldenrods seemed to be near the flowerbeds.

--

Either way, he continued to make his way through the cobble streets, headed north toward the mountain range in the distance. Why the house they decided to put him in had to be so far from the way into town, he didn’t know. Or really care, if he was being honest. But all the walking was starting to hurt his feet, probably because of the hard stone he was walking on. He kept on walking regardless though.

--

When Garvin reached a worn down signpost, he had to stop and look at the piece of paper that was supposed to tell him where to go again, unsure if he’d gone too far or made a wrong turn at some point. But no, according to the paper, he was still going the right way. So he huffed and went on walking past the signpost that marked the trail that’d go through the forest and up the mountain range.

--

Only to stop a little ways into the forest at the sight of a fork in the path. Or, at least, what looked like one to him. Putting one of his sunset-colored gloved hands on a nearby tree, he looked at his paper for what had to be the hundredth time by now.

--

Turned out the fork in the path was less a fork in the path and more of a walkway to the house he was supposed to be going to. Which was just great. If the overgrown, hidden look of it was anything to go off of. Still, with little more than a sigh, he pushed off the tree and started making his way down the walkway. It was secluded from people, at the very least, which was always nice.

--

The path led to a slight thinning of the trees and what at some point might’ve been a clearing, though time had obviously passed since anyone had stopped by, leaving said old clearing to be reclaimed by nature. A look he rather liked, as he continued to follow stepping stones embedded into the ground, half hidden under moss, ivy, and weeds. He stopped when he caught sight of what was at the other end of the old clearing, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

--

At the other end sat what he assumed was supposed to be the house he’d been looking for. It was small, definitely only one story, and even more certainly— It was old, made mostly of timber with what he could guess was once vibrant orange and black paint that was now dull and chipping away from it.

--

He continued towards it, testing its bottom step with his foot as he reached it before making his way up to the covered porch. All in all, it looked in good condition despite its age. The cobwebs that hung around the empty, forgotten flowerbeds almost seemed cosmetic, decorative, instead of something that came from time.

--

Still, Garvin hummed softly to himself as he searched his pockets for the key he’d gotten for the house. It took him just a bit longer than he thought it should for him to find it, but when he did he stared at the shape for a moment, as he had the last few times he’d looked at it. The key handle was decorated by snakes circling it, and the end that didn’t go into the keyhole was shaped like a lewisia flower. It’d seemed odd to him every time that he’d looked at it. It still seemed odd to him.

--

Either way, he tried it on the door of the house in front of him, and pushed it open when he heard the click of it unlocking. Stepping inside, he was immediately met with a living room. It was odd though, as he walked further in. Compared to the outside, it almost looked like someone had cleaned it recently. The furniture was still obviously older, with floral and stripes and dots and just overall plenty of mismatched patterns.

--

What stopped him halfway through the living room as he started making his way to the open door frame on the other side, was the table in front of the floral printed couch. Sat on the middle of the table was a vase, foggy and off-white from time, with a bouquet of oleanders inside it. Alive and well.

--

He almost laughed then, as if he’d finally gotten a joke that had at first eluded him. But he didn’t, instead, he swallowed dryly past the slightest of lumps in his throat, and continued on his way through what was actually a small hallway with a door, that he guessed led to a half bathroom based off the size of the hallway, where on the other side lay a kitchen and dining room area. The old wood stove in the kitchen seemed right at home with the brightly colored cabinets and island. Really, all in all, it was small, with the dining area just being a circle table and two cushioned swirl patterned seats that looked like they belonged in a diner. Still, at the middle of that table too, sat a bouquet of oleanders in a vase that was well taken care of.

--

He passed by it a bit easier than he had the one in the living room, deciding not to think about how he’d have to handle them with gloves to avoid getting any rashes. As much as he did, in fact, love oleanders, they still tended to be annoying due to their toxicity.

--

This time, the doorway was a doorway, and he had to actually open a door to get to the next room. Which turned out to be a bedroom, and compared to the rest of the house? It was actually rather barren. Apparently, instead of having to decorate the whole house, he was just getting to do the bedroom. Which was fine, honestly, because the rest of the house already looked just fine to him. He rather liked the mismatched vintage look it had going on.

--

Besides, the bedroom at least had a bed in it already, though the sheets were simple white ones. It was good enough for him anyway. His eyes swept over everything quietly, just taking it all in. There were two other doors in the bedroom, which he guessed led to a closet and a bathroom, respectively, which he decided he’d look through some other time. But other than that, all there was… Was a vase on the nightstand next to the bed, filled with not oleanders but instead— Columbines.

--

Garvin stared at them for a moment, and then left the bedroom, closing the door to it behind him. Taking a breath, he supposed that now was as good a time as any to check out the bakery he’d passed earlier. See if they had any seeded bread that would work to share the seeds with birds.