Last Seen: May 16, 2024 14:25:47 GMT -5
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Post by The Secret Circle on Feb 6, 2024 16:33:57 GMT -5
[attr="class","template"] [attr="class","title"]The Coming Storm [attr="class","content"]Introduction As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the Atlantic Ocean, the once-hidden secrets of the Black Mariah began to emerge. Long lost to the ocean's depths, the skeletal remains of the sunken ship clawed their way back to the surface like a ghostly apparition rising from the abyss. Archeologists have flocked to New Salem, seeking to uncover as much of the wreckage as possible.
Eager to share this maritime marvel with the world, the New Salem Historical Society seized the opportunity to showcase their discovery. Nestled on the harbor's edge, the Morning Glory Cafe became a hub of activity and anticipation. The historical society had rented out the quaint waterfront establishment, transforming it into a makeshift museum where relics from the Black Mariah would be displayed. The air was abuzz with excitement as locals and tourists alike flocked to witness the unveiling of history, a tangible connection to a shipwrecked past.
Inside the cafe, the atmosphere was charged with a blend of curiosity and reverence. The walls adorned with maritime artifacts from New Salem's seafaring legacy created a fitting backdrop for the centerpiece – the resurrected relics of the Black Mariah. Curators and historians, their eyes gleaming with enthusiasm, narrated the tales of this once mighty vessel to an enthralled audience.
Patrons sipped coffee and nibbled on pastries, their senses immersed in the allure of the past as they envisioned the bustling life that once thrived on board the now weathered and worn ship.
Beyond the historical insights, the event serves a dual purpose. The New Salem Historical Society had organized the showcase as a fundraising initiative, aiming to garner support for the costly endeavor of fully retrieving the rest of the Black Mariah. Donation boxes adorned the cafe, and volunteers passionately conveyed the urgency of preserving this underwater treasure. The clinking of coins and the rustle of bills contributed to the communal effort to salvage a piece of history, ensuring that the Black Mariah's story would not be lost to the depths again.
[attr="class","tempcredits"]CRAFTED BY ALISHA OF ADOXOGRAPHY
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Heart of Gold
A heart of gold, as bright as flame
Last Seen: May 2, 2024 11:42:47 GMT -5
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Post by Morgana Shipton on Feb 13, 2024 15:17:04 GMT -5
Morgana was drawn to the spectacle of the Black Mariah's emergence like a moth to a flame. The sea's secrets unveiling themselves held a certain allure, like witnessing a ghostly resurrection from the deep. The archaeologists' meticulous work was a dance with history. Morgana felt a shiver of excitement as she walked among the skeletal remains.
The makeshift museum within buzzed with activity as Morgana navigated through maritime relics. Her Dad's old Polaroid camera dangled from her neck, capturing frozen moments in time. The walls echoed with tales of the once-mighty Black Mariah. Morgana's lens captured the gleaming eyes of curators and historians, their passion evident in each frame. Morgana meandered through the cafe, sipping a cup of steaming coffee, absorbing the charged atmosphere. Her footsteps echoed in harmony with the murmurs of patrons enraptured by the relics' stories. She marveled at juxtaposing the worn ship's artifacts against the vibrant cafe backdrop, creating a captivating tableau.
The event served a dual purpose, not lost on Morgana. The urgency to preserve the underwater treasure resonated with her, and she observed the donation boxes adorned with curiosity and determination. As the clinking of coins and the rustle of bills filled the air, Morgana couldn't help but feel a sense of unity in the communal effort to salvage history as she shoved the assorted bills into the donation box.
Morgana lingered by the wall adorned with paintings, each stroke of pigment and ink a testament to the history that unfolded in the once-hidden depths. Her Polaroid captured the candid essence of the past merging with the urgency of the present. As she clicked the shutter, Morgana felt a profound connection to the Black Mariah's resurrection, etching her role as a silent chronicler.
The old paintings unveiled the vessel's intricate history, a tapestry of faces and tales lost to time. Morgana traced the lineages of Blackwoods, Shiptons, Meads, Conants, and Chamberlains, each family neatly displayed and labeled – the Founding Families of New Salem, their legacy echoing through the ages. Yet, amidst the portraits, one family stood conspicuously absent.
The Black family, shrouded in mystique, held a unique place in New Salem's narrative. Their belief in the old faith had barred them from conventional portraiture, fearing the capture of a soul's essence. Morgana's gaze lingered on the lone representation – a sketch of Black John himself. The simplicity of charcoal on rough-hewn paper depicted the patriarch in an enigmatic light, a faint echo of a lineage that thrived in shadows.
Intrigued by the absence of conventional portraits, Morgana focused her lens on the sketch. The click of the Polaroid was a silent acknowledgment of the Black family's mysterious legacy, a snapshot that transcended time and added another layer to the unfolding saga of the Black Mariah.
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The Lost Boy
Darkness, darkness, be my blanket. Cover me with the endless night
Last Seen: May 16, 2024 14:26:43 GMT -5
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Post by Brahm van Tassel on Feb 16, 2024 11:36:43 GMT -5
Brahm moved gracefully through the crowded Morning Glory with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. His eyes, ever observant, landed on Morgana, capturing her absorbed in her documentation of the Black Mariah's history. His friend had a way of standing out, with her long red hair. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the successful event unfolding around him.
With a friendly smile, he approached Morgana just as she waved the Polaroid picture to expedite its development. "Hey, Morgana," he greeted, his tone warm. "Capturing the essence of the Black Mariah, I see? Has it lived up to your expectations?"
Brahm's gaze fell on the developing image as she smiled at in acknowledgment. He leaned in to get a better look, carefully balancing the silver tray in his hand. The smudged sketch of Black John, though simple, held an undeniable enigmatic quality. He watched as the details emerged on the photograph, the shades of charcoal coming to life in a tangible form.
"He reminds me of Beck," Brahm commented, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Something in the eyes.." He took a moment to appreciate the photograph, acknowledging the silent connection between the sketch and Morgana's lens. "It's like capturing a piece of the past that refuses to be forgotten."
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Heart of Gold
A heart of gold, as bright as flame
Last Seen: May 2, 2024 11:42:47 GMT -5
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Post by Morgana Shipton on Apr 2, 2024 16:55:19 GMT -5
Morgana's eyes sparkled with excitement as she smiled up at Brahm, deftly snagging a few hors d'oeuvres from the plate he carried. Popping a bacon-wrapped date into her mouth, she chewed while taking in the developing image of Black John. The resemblance to Beckett wasn't lost on her, and she couldn't help but wonder about the interconnectedness of their histories.
As Brahm commented on the photograph's ability to capture a piece of the past, Morgana's mind drifted to the intricate web of familial ties that often intertwined through time. "You know, if we delve into genealogy far enough, we'd probably find some connection with the Forsythe family," she mused between bites. "It's no surprise. We're all distantly related, especially when you look back through the generations."
Eager to share her latest discovery, Morgana seized Brahm's arm and led him across the room to where a flat-screen television displayed footage from the shipwreck. Bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation, she waited until the screen revealed the submerged bow of the wreckage before tapping it excitedly.
"This is where I was!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with enthusiasm.
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The Dark Queen
Last Seen: May 14, 2024 23:12:57 GMT -5
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Post by Saraya Blackthorn on May 4, 2024 15:33:34 GMT -5
It seems that Saraya had arrived in town just in time. The day coincidentally that a ship surfaced, not literally of course. Tides coming in far enough that revealed the ship long lost for centuries. As in human nature, more curious than cats, flocked to the area to see what riches and history they could glean from the wreckage.
Saraya slipped in the café, several artifacts on display… but that isn’t all she could see. Spirits, their auras, barest wisps of smoke. She focused on ordering her coffee, ” Triple shot black coffee please…” She asked of the barista. Once his back was turned, she raised her own to the ceiling a chant muttering under her breath. Sheilds falling back into place and when she next looked over at the displays, it was free from spirits. At times it could get unbearable, other times she could control it. Parting with a few dollars and her coffee in hand, a few sugars and the barest amount of milk, it turned into the perfect drink. The caffeine lighting her veins and sparking the morning energy she so desperately needed first thing in the morning. Filtering slowly through the rows of artifacts, pictures she eventually found what she was looking for.
A display of the Black family… her family… her father. The reason she was here. Two people already standing at the display and she listened to their words. Their history all written here, and only half of her history. They wouldn’t know it though, not until it was too late… at least she hoped. Her light eyes taking in the display, reminding her of what she was here for.
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