Styx glanced around the area, squeezing the shoulder strap of his satchel bag. feeling a tad nervous, as he'd look about the room, those eyes of his sending an unnerving chill down the spine of any otherworldly being they'd hand upon.
@murdxrxfcrxws
Witchholm was bustling. For the upcoming Samhain, most witches didn't spare an out-of-towner too much notice. There was too much already going on, with decorations being set up, posters for the coveted beauty pageant, sign up sheets and flyers. Sales were going on, and everything was swiftly calling out that autumn had come to Hell, and with it the city's most treasured holiday.
The visage of someone else was most prominent on the beauty pageant posters, of a tall, lovely Goetia with rich red feathers.
"This Year's Miss Witchholm Pageant, judged by the one and only Queen of Witches! Tickets on sale now!"
Not for the first time, the Unholy Seer was going to make a splash.
