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Symond Hearst

"A great many things can be found in the woods. Food and shelter for those who know how to look, and peace for those who know how to listen."

0 · 381 views · located in Salem Village, 1692

a character in “Coven: Salem 1692”, as played by XShishioX

Description


The Spirit Walker

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Full Name: Symond Hearst
Nickname(s): Likes to be called Simon, says it's easier than his actual name.
Age: 19 years old, just enough to be considered a man. He looks young for his age, but don't let it fool you. He's got an older man's wit, and enough experience in the woods to make grizzlies seem like townsfolk.



There's More than what Meets the Eye...

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Height: Exactly six feet even.
Weight: Roughly 160 lbs. He's skinny, but not scrawny, with a good bit of muscle on him.
Basic Description: Symond has deep blue eyes that make you want to stare into them forever. His hair is thick and dark, and is a rich shade of brown. He's got a young, handsome face that isn't pockmarked or scarred. His features are finally beginning to show the sharpness of age, but he still retains a bit of child-like softness. While hunting, he wears clothing you would find more typically on Native Americans. In the woods, he wears soft deer hide pants, a bear pelt he's fashioned into a jacket, lightweight boots he's made out of deer hide, a soft linen shirt, and he carries a quiver with his bedroll wrapped around it as well as a leather pack with sturdy buckles. The quiver is large enough to store a good two dozen arrows and his longbow. When he does come into town, Elliot changes into typical puritan clothes of the period. He often smells of the forest he spends so much time in, like fresh green plants, wildflowers, black dirt, and icy spring water. He tries to maintain a freshly shaven face, as he cannot grow a full beard yet. The hair on his head defies all attempts of civilization, and often breaks combs and thinning shears.
Distinguishing Features: On his right shoulder, located more towards his back, is a tattoo that was given to him when he made his pact with the light. It was not inked on to his skin, it simply appeared there the next morning. He seems to wear a form of permanent smirk, though he doesn't try to, his smile comes out on it's own and seems more like something a prankster would wear as opposed to a respected hunter. He wears a necklace that is adorned with three, large, mountain lion claws.



Gifts from the Other Side...
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Aligned Side: Light
Domain: Spirit
Powers: Symond, is a touch unusual, as far as Wiccans go. Instead of channeling power through himself, Symond stores power inside his own body and releases it through his physical exertions. His body is a reservoir for natural energy that he absorbs through Silberlöwe, his familiar.
~Spiritual Awareness. Can sense when things are happening around him that may be related to the spiritual, or magical realm. It doesn't have a very far range, only about 60-80 feet.
~Enhanced Condition. Symond benefits from enhanced strength, speed, agility, balance, flexibility, senses, durability, and endurance. While he is a powerful specimen, it should not be taken to mean that he can just run around lifting things, punching stuff through walls, and outrunning horses all day. After a while he will start to wear down and become tired, making him less of a threat.
~Predatory Instinct. Can think like a predatory animal when hunting, tracking, pursuing, or fighting. This allows his instinct to take over and allow him to perform far more capably than normal humans, and even some Wiccans and predatory animals, in those fields.
~Stealth Tactics. Able to utilize skills and techniques that make him harder to find or sense. He is an expert of camouflage and appears to blend into the darkness of night.
Weaknesses:
~Close quarters fighter. He has to be up close and personal to do any real damage, otherwise, all he can do it be bait and shoot stuff with his arrows.
~Naive. He tends to think the best of people, and is often surprised when they betray him.
~Manaless. Symond doesn't actually have spells or real magic. By remaining close to his familiar, Symond absorbs power, which he uses to power his living body and push it to the extremes that he is capable of reaching.
Familiar: Cougar. A wild and powerful creature, named Silberlöwe, calls Symond its master. It is through his familiar that Symond is able to draw power from the spirit realm, and by channeling that power through his familiar, Symond has taken a share of the power nature has given to such a fierce predator. Silberlöwe lives just outside the town, protecting it from dark creatures when he can. Further, he stays out of town whenever Symond goes in to sell his wares, people didn't take kindly to him even when he was just a cub. However, when Symond goes out into the woods, Silberlöwe goes with him every step of the way.



The Story of My Life...
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Personality: Symond is a nice enough kind of guy. He's not particularly outgoing or kind, but if you've made a friend out of him, then he'll stick with you for life. Symond is always respectful, even when dealing with people who don't deserve it. He's spent enough time in the wild to know that there's always another predator out there. People's time in this world is ever shortening, so treat whoever you can with respect, you don't know how much time they've got left. Whenever he's in the town, Symond always feels so restrained. People are so delicate, and the comings and goings of those who live in the town are so easy to disturb, like a completely calm pond, the smallest of pebbles would disrupt its surface. He tends to treat those he knows aren't Wiccans or Witches with a touch more delicacy than normal, as if they might break if he were any rougher with them, even when speaking to them. The quirk is hard to notice, but once you do, you'll see it wherever he goes. It's not his fault, it's the only way he knows not to break things or people. Symond is a talkative enough guy, he'll engage in conversation if piqued, but he won't simply start chatting it up with whomever he sees walking across the street. However, in the forest, Symond becomes something altogether different. His entire personality changes. He becomes very cold, very distant, and full of earned pride. When Symond steps into the woods, he becomes a stone cold hunter. You can even see it in the way he walks, checks his surroundings, and stalks his prey. He is, however, still respectful to those things he kills in the forest. He always thanks his downed prey for the part they play in feeding others, and calls them worthy opponents.

History: Symond was born typically. His parents fell in love and had him. However, that is where the normalcy stops. His parents perished in a fire that destroyed his home. They were suspected of being a paired Witch and Wiccan. The townspeople, afraid of what horrible monstrosity they might produce, burned down Symond's home. The little toddler was, miraculously, unharmed and was sent to the orphanage. The Mayor took it as a sign that Symond wasn't a Wiccan, that God had saved him. Symond was allowed to live, however, no one would take him in. He was, after all, a Witch's child. Who knew what he might become as he grew up. Instead, he grew up normally in the orphanage without showing signs of magic. One one particularly normal day, while he was out playing in the field on the outskirts of town, Symond was approached by his familiar, a mountain lion cub. Symond was still very young, so his first reaction was to run away. However, what happened next completely knocked Symond off his feet. The cub spoke to him. He told him that his name was Silberlöwe, and that as Symond grew, so too would he. The cub confirmed, that Symond was, in fact, a Wiccan, but he was different from his parents. He absorbed energy and stored in in his body, instead of redirecting it like other Wiccans or Witches. So, keeping his head, and accepting the strange turn of events, Symond kept his heritage a secret, and true to Silberlöwe's word, as Symond grew, he became stronger. In order to hide his gifts, Symond took to the forest, studying the natural world through the eyes of a hunter. He excelled. He would often bring back more than his teacher, the only professional hunter in the small town. The man, who was getting old anyway, simply laughed it off, calling Symond a Child of the Forest, saying he could have the title of the Town's best hunter. Symond's grown up proving the old man right. Through his own intuition, and Silberlöwe's instruction, Symond flourished in the woods, often bringing nothing with him but a boot knife, his bow, and a quiver full of homemade arrows. Symond's set himself up quite well, bringing his kills to the town butcher, his herbs and other plants to the Apothecary, hides to the Tanner, and whatever wild flowers he can to whoever wants them.

So begins...

Symond Hearst's Story

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Character Portrait: Symond Hearst Character Portrait: Isobel
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Symond woke as he always did when he was hunting, before the sun, and silently. His eyes snapped open and he slowly sat up and stretched, careful not to make any noise. His vision cleared, as it always needed to after sleep, and Symond looked around himself. The fire he had built last night, to keep warm and to dissuade predators, was merely ashes and dust now, barely producing any heat. Symond smiled as he looked across the fire to his familiar and constant companion, Silberlöwe, who was dozing in the dim twilight. The powerful creature was a far better deterrent to wild animals than any fire would ever be. He chuckled softly. Symond sat for another long moment, looking around him for signs of a trail. It was his last day in the forest for this trip. He needed to go back in town today, by noon, in order to give the various mushrooms and molds to the town's apothecary. This morning was Symond's last chance to bring in a deer. Still, he couldn't just walk away from fun when it so willingly presented itself to him. Slowly, cautiously, but most of all, silently, Symond got up and crept towards his familiar. His feet made barely any sound as he stepped carefully around twigs and pine needles. The slightest noise would give him away, and Symond didn't want to mess this up. Breathing in deeply, and holding it, Symond inched closer, preparing to roar right in the big cat's ear when its eyes lazily opened and it spoke. "Cats possess nine lives and you, my friend, do not. Consider thyself warned." The cat mumbled, irritated, before closing its eyes once more. Symond pouted loudly, throwing a nearby stone at a tree and making quite a ruckus in the quiet early morning. "Aww, I was so close. You would have jumped out of your skin had that been successful. That would have been excellent." Symond whined, teasing his familiar. "If you have time to play pranks on me, then you are wasting time that could be spent tearing down camp and getting ready to go." Silberlöwe instructed, once more sounding irritated. "Today's the last day for you to catch a deer. You best think twice if you believe the forest will simply give a stag to its champion. Even I have to earn my kills." Silberlöwe said. Symond whined. "I guess you are right, as usual. Come Tomcat, let us be on or way." Symond teased, he knew that Silberlöwe preferred to be called by his true name. Symond chuckled as he heard the big cat grumble in protest, but set to work dousing the fire with dirt and making it seem as if the fire had never been there. He scattered the pile of dry leaves that he had set up under his bedroll and returned the site to its natural state, as if no one had ever been there at all. Symond stowed his bedroll in it's place around his quiver and then thanked the forest for allowing him to rest there for the night. At that, Symond was ready to go, so he left, vanishing into the trees as if he had never been there at all.

Symond trekked deeper into the woods. The deer had been retreating from town as of late, which meant mating season would begin soon. Symond had to remember to pay extra attention to the deer he took from now on. Mothers and the largest stags would have to be preserved to ensure future generations of strong deer. Otherwise, all was fair game. Symond listen and watched as he stalked through the trees, instantly picking up the trail of a small herd; two studs and four mares from the tracks. Symond licked his lips with anticipation. Symond tilted his head back and sniffed, discerning the direction of the herd and soundlessly approaching, ever closer until he found them. One stag was very large, and he would be needed now more than ever during the mating season, therefore, Symond made the smaller, though still large buck, his target. It was a good size, eight full points and strong. Symond knew, simply from the smell, that it had already sired a fawn. That only set it further higher on Symond's priority targeting. If it had mated once already, then Symond could take the father and know with utter surety that another strong deer would replace it. Symond silently set down his quiver, bedroll, and the pouch full of mushrooms. He pulled out the bow and knocked a single arrow silently. Taking his aim, and lining up his shot perfectly, Symond checked the wind one last time. He was downwind, there would be no escape. Symond released, and the deadly bolt caught the deer right in the chest just behind the front leg. It pierced the aortic artery while sliding right between the two largest muscle groups, to ensure the least amount of damage to the meat. The deer died instantly and painlessly. The herd scattered as the buck hit the ground and Symond slowly walked up to the buck and knelt next to it. He pulled his arrow from the carcass and put his hands together, as if to pray. "Thank you." Symond said simply. "Though your spirit journeys to the Other Side to join your ancestors, your body stays behind to sustain those in need. Thank you, proud stag, you were a worthy opponent." Symond said, solemn and respectful. That finished, Symond hefted the buck and carried it into town.

Symond and Silberlöwe went their separate ways once they made it to town. Silberlöwe said he was off to greet someone, he would join up with Symond later. Symond, who actually went into town, stopped first at the butcher. Symond greeted the man with a jovial smile, which was returned to him. The butcher had always enjoyed working with Symond. His kills were perfectly clean, and he always brought back lots of meat. Symond took his earnings from the butcher with a smile and spent some of the money right there on a large amount of jerky, which he deftly folded into a leather wrap and stored in his pack. Next, Symond deposited the hide at the tanner's. While Symond hated going inside the dreadful place, he did see that the hide could be useful to those who needed it. Despite the tannery's evil smell, they did good work, and gave Symond a small, but fair, recompense for his work. Finally, Symond stopped at the apothecary and dropped off his bag of mushrooms and molds. The apothecary smiled with delight. Symond had always managed to deliver some of the best medicinal herbs that the forest could offer. He was paid well, but not overly generously for his efforts.

Symond, having bought all the necessary supplies, some more arrows, a replacement water skein, some trail food, a replacement buckle for his pack, and a small pouch of medicinal herbs, made his towards the forest. He didn't like to stay too close to the town, if he could help it. After all, the middle of the woods was more his style. Further, there was a meeting of the coven later that night, and frankly, he'd rather be closer to said meeting place than halfway up a mountain or sleeping at the Inn. So, Symond headed out. He didn't need to be at his destination for a little while yet, so he walked to where he could feel Silberlöwe's energy. Symond figured it would be good to meet up with his familiar first. Surprisingly enough, the big cat had wandered over towards the clearing near the edge of town. As Symond got closer, he could smell that there was someone else there with his familiar. He found it rather odd. The only ones who Silberlöwe would get anywhere close to were Witches or Wiccans. Finishing the short trek, Symond walked into the clearing to find Isobel in conversation with the cat. "Isn't this a surprise. Hello Isobel." Symond said, happy to see her. The two were friendly enough, but the poor girl's station in town made all attempts at conversation with her nigh illegal. "This old Tomcat isn't bothering you too much is he?" Symond asked. While Silberlöwe hated the pet name Symond had made for him, he remained respectful while his master was talking. "I digress, how are you today? We don't often have the opportunity to speak like this. Must be why Silberlöwe came here." Symond surmised. "What brings you to this part of the forest?" he asked innocently.

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Character Portrait: Symond Hearst Character Portrait: Isobel
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Isobel sat rubbing her sore feet as she felt a presence watching her. With a slight frown, she looked up and walked a little deeper into the clearing. She then saw a figure and stopped. Siberlowe. Symond’s familiar. “Hello, Siberlowe.” She said, her paranoia easing some. Symond was nice, he was in the coven along with her and Christian, and he was one of the few that treating her with respect. She and Siberlowe spoke for awhile, he kept an eye on her familiar, Keyon, a mountain lion cub. He couldn’t talk yet because he was still really young and while he was small, she couldn’t keep him with her until he was old enough to hide himself. Surely, the townsfolk would skin him. They went on and on until, "Isn't this a surprise. Hello Isobel." Symond said, causing Isobel to look up, her hand still softly stroking Siberlowe’s soft pelt. "This old Tomcat isn't bothering you too much is he?" Symond asked and Isobel smiled softly behind her hand. “No sir, of course not.” She said with a small giggle. Even though they were friends, she still treated them respectfully, just so maybe she won’t slip up in front of the other townspeople. "I digress, how are you today? We don't often have the opportunity to speak like this. Must be why Silberlöwe came here." Symond spoke and Isobel looked down briefly, she wished they could speak more often but alas, it was so. "What brings you to this part of the forest?" he asked innocently and Isobel looked up. “ I live here, the slave quarters are just there.” She said and turned some, pointing toward the small barn a little ways away from where they stood. “ Are you coming to the Coven meeting tonight?” She asked. She knew she should be heading out about now , but her feet were so sore, they were sore even now but she could handle it.

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Character Portrait: Symond Hearst Character Portrait: Isobel
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“I live here, the slave quarters are just there.” Was the answer to Symond's question. She was only a touch shorter than her was, but it did nothing to diminish the regal look in her eyes, in the way she carried herself, and in the way she spoke. Her tone may have been respectful and kind, but to Symond's ears, it felt powerful. There was something in her voice that demanded respect, even if others couldn't hear it. Her hair was dark and straight and smooth, and though she kept it up in a bonnet, Symond could see a few silky locks poking out from underneath. A few rebellious strands must have slipped out during her daily work. Isobel turned some, pointing toward the small barn a little ways away from where they stood. Symond only nodded. Her station in town was near abominable. It simply wasn't fair. It would be like caging Silberlöwe or asking the river to stop running or telling the sun not to shine. How could you simply look a another person, woman or man, and tell them their life was forfeit. Tell them that they were a possession now, something to be bought and sold in a country thousands of miles away. The mere thought of it made Symond angry, more angry than he ever cared to be. He sighed. He didn't quite know what to say. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He tried not to let it affect him, to pretend like it didn't upset him, but he couldn't. There was a moment of silence between them as Symond calmed himself. He looked up, staring into her deep, brown eyes, at a loss for words. Symond couldn't think of anything nice to say, about her station, about the injustice, or about the people who perpetrated the act, so he didn't speak. Fortunately, Isobel had managed to come up with something. “Are you coming to the Coven meeting tonight?” She asked simply. Symond grinned and nodded enthusiastically, "But of course." He said, his grin threatening to dam his words and keep them from coming. "I wouldn't miss it. It's the only time I ever feel truly alive and truly loved. The forest always tells me such wonderful things. It laughs with me like an old friend, tells me secrets and tricks like a father, and smiles at me like a mother would. The fact that we get to be with others like us is simply a perk." Symond finished.

At that, Silberlöwe reluctantly pulled himself away from the caressing, and gentle hands of Isobel. For some reason, only women ever seemed to pet him correctly. Symond didn't like petting him, and whenever Silberlöwe pressed him, he did it all wrong. There was simply no winning with him. Silberlöwe sighed as he walked over to Symond and curled around behind him, still facing Isobel. Though he often thought the boy was stupid, inattentive, and childish, Silberlöwe had to admit that he was truly a man. He was tall, his hands were big, he could run and hunt as long as he, Silberlöwe himself, could. Sometimes even longer. He calmed Silberlöwe, made him think more rationally when his first instinct was to fight. The forest felt the same. It smiled whenever Symond was around. It showed Symond things that were even still closed off to the great cat. It was simply as if the forest had adopted him, made Symond its son, its champion, and tried to help him with every breath he took, every night he spent, and every kill he earned. "Symond." Silberlöwe said simply. The Wiccan looked down towards his familiar and nodded. The sun was setting, and night was approaching quickly. They needed to leave now or risk being followed. "You're right. It is time." Symond said, looking up towards Isobel. "It's late." Symond said. "We should be heading to the meeting place." He walked over to where Isobel stood and offered her his hand. "May I help you up?" He asked gently, with a smile on his face. "We wouldn't want to risk being followed."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claudia Martin Character Portrait: Christian Martin Character Portrait: Phoebe Cruseau Character Portrait: William Proctor Character Portrait: Amelia Kenway Character Portrait: Dawn Cruseau Character Portrait: Marian MacManus Character Portrait: Symond Hearst Character Portrait: Isobel Character Portrait: Walter Mahone Character Portrait: Nicholas Fitzpatrick
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Christian Martin


Christian shook his head slightly as he watched the coven interact around him. It was mildly uninteresting, just old friends catching up. What had his attention was actually Kyle, even more so when he made his way towards his own sister. "Poor bastard," he muttered under his breath. It was well known Claudia wasn't the nicest of the bunch.

The light air wiccan seemed to be more focused on Walter, but that didn't keep Claudia from glaring at him. When she glared, she glared daggers. So sharp Christian could almost feel them where he stood, all the way across the yard. What made it worse was when Pheobe joined in.

Claudia was an odd little girl. She actually liked Pheobe, as far as he knew, but she turned her glare onto the other part of the air paring. Christian knew why she was upset. They were all tired of hiding, regardless of where they stood. Finally, he spoke, but he never moved. "Can't start yet, we're still missing some of us." He kept his tone friendly though. He knew Dawn well enough to know she had a lot more problems than the way people could speak to her.

"Hello Christian, sorry I'm late, my ma was in a talking mood tonight."

"Speak of the devil," he murmured, turning his attention away from what was going on in front of him and putting it onto his female counterpart. He liked Marian, she was easy to talk to, but the mention of conversations brought an undignified snort out of him. 'Well' wasn't exactly the word he would use.

"No stories tonight...I've been oddly bored, really. Oh! There was Veronica though...Veronica? Victoria?..." he trailed off, looking at his feet, brows knit together as he continued to mumble the two names under his breath. Damn, he couldn't remember...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Symond Hearst Character Portrait: Walter Mahone Character Portrait: Comfort Townsend
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Comfort stood outside the circle, under the dark of the trees, her pentacle suspended from her fingers. It never seemed to get any easier. Wearing the symbols, wearing the clothes, conversing with the others, and the ritual that would come. She repeated to herself her usual justifications. This pentacle was a symbol of Mary Magdelene, this cloak a symbol of her heritage, and the ritual an extension of the gifts God had given her. None of it helped very much, but she repeated it to herself in a chant, under her breath, as she watched the others. Carefully she slid the chain over her head and rested the pentacle on the nape of her neck.

The dress she wore was one she had sewn herself. Claudia had offered to get her something more traditional, a garish red frock that showed far more than she was comfortable with, but she'd insisted on this solution instead. It was a pale blue, and simple cotton, the pleats reaching up around her neck and to the edges of her wrists. Even the adornments, twisting black cords resembling scales along the hem, were simple in design. She straightened her bonnet, high on her head, and tucked any stray hairs away tightly. Then, holding her breath, she walked out into the clearing and took her place beside Walter and Symond.

The air smelled sour, in the mouth watering way that apples do when they brown, and she felt the skin on her neck prickle. It was a good night for casting. She cast a sideways glance at Walter, not resting her eyes on him any longer than needed, and then nodded at Symond.

"Good evening."