The Witch of Dead Zones, with a trapped nature. Hear the echoes' calls- hear the tides' songs. Floating amidst these acidic, corroding waters, her fragmented memories have all but fully slipped away from her grasps; forever rewinding between every moment's abrupt end and beginning- a clash between her preservation of the sweeter past and her current afflictions.
The frigid chains binding her to the ocean's crushing depths have even pierced the very foundations of her mind; robbing the witch of whatever hope there was for liberation as her veins and limpid tears coalesced into rivers of reflective ice. As the Earth turns and rotates without care, the witch shall remain- feeling every tremble and tremor of the world outside of her freezing prison as its residents dance their hearts away without a shred of awareness or care towards her punishment.
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Barrier appearance:
If I may be honest, I feel like this could very well be a case similar to that of Homulilly's; in which Nemesis' countless mistakes, hailing from her former life, have come back to bite her. Trapped within this underwater, claustrophobic prison, the chains tying her down hail from the heavens above, far beyond the skyline, and appear to fade away into the distance as she writhes on the deep, dark ocean floors.
As you dive deeper, away from the wooden debris, torn VHS reels, and rotting foundations of what was once a save haven, the waters' darkness shall deepen, until all that is left are these shining shards surrounding you, replaying old memories like broken records, and these cruel chains that still appear to go on forever. The memories, your memories- they appear to be out of order; a pathetic, corrupted mimicry of all these cherished times you and your loved ones have endured together, as though the witch was either heckling at or even punishing you for even risking it all to reach her.
There is no "final warning"; this is your one and only chance to take the hint, a hike, and move on with your life as if you've never discovered this area in the first place.
The crushing depths, as painful as they were to traverse through, have ultimately assisted you in the end; using the heightened gravity of the ocean's deepest corners, the shards around you began to chip away until you realize that all that are around you now are these specks of broken glass- pathetic, the size of a strand of hair, and having lost their luminescence. It's so dark in here- aside from the glow of your soul gem, there's nothing but pitch black surrounding you...
This can't be it, can it? Usually a witch's labyrinth is sprawling with their little familiars- you can't exactly put it into words, but there's a sense of activity in them - never a dull moment for when it comes to fighting witches -, but...not in this one. In every sense of the word, this barrier is nothing more than an abandoned, lifeless wasteland. If not for the faint traces of magic that have lead you here, you wouldn't be blamed for believing that this might be some unique case where a labyrinth like this one has been abandoned somehow. If a witch couldn't even conjure up the familiars required to keep her own abode safe, then either she was a whole new level of weakling, or so full of herself that she saw no need for them.
So, you continue on. Still swimming, still scouting, still on your guards- yet there's nothing there. You're almost certain that you've reached the bottom; how long has it been since you've last entered this underwater realm, anyway? It couldn't have been over a few hours...
This witch sure loves her game of hide and seek, huh? As lengthy as it was, now's the time for the fun to reach its end. You checked on your soul gem one last time just to be extra sure, and, of course, the witch's magic is still present. All you gotta do now is drag that sorry bitch and make her see justice for all the curses she has inflicted upon mankind...
... That, and because you really have to recharge your soul gem after you've used it to track that bitch down repeatedly. Oh, she's going to pay dearly for all this trouble she's-
...caused?
A surge of warm water have pushed you forwards without warning; causing you to lose balance and briefly forget how to swim for a good 5 seconds. Gathering yourself together, you turn around and attempt to cast a bright glow from your soul gem so that you could come face-to-face with this monstrosity-
Riiiight before you just got beaten to the punch. The light emitting from the angler jutting out of her head got brighter with each second; revealing the witch's grotesque form at its fullest. A behemoth that definitely looked like she deserved these freezing chains digging into her scales and bones, if her bloodied, glass teeth and deep, dark, and sunken eyes were any indication. She's been in this state for quite the stretch of time, too; the witch's limbs, as strong as they appeared to be, were slim and lacking in muscle tissue; even the webbing on her hands were torn apart in various areas and sections, and she had to take some time so she could turn her head towards your direction.
You weren't exactly terrified of the witch herself in particular, though.
What had caused your heart to sink down to your stomach was another beast; one possessing little to no humanity or even compassion when compared to the witch herself. A silhouette of a disaster to come, it looked like that monster was looking down at you with sadistic glee...and was smiling giddily at the event that's about to unfold.
Oh, boy.
Her witch's kiss could be best described as an image of a sprout of some sorts; a cold, frigid seed cracking open in order to grant the fleshy tendrils that have been biding their time within their long-awaited chance of escape- an omen of impending disaster that is just around the corner.
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Familiars:
Adrasteia. Minion of the Witch of Dead Zones. Her duty is to share her burdens. A fellow inmate, the beast residing just beneath the surface the witch lays upon, the reflection of all her fallacies and her failings- nothing more than a mindless shadow of what her master wishes to hide away from the world. A haunting memory for years to come, this pathetic mimicry of a behemoth embodies nothing but every meaning of the word "power" that still echoes within the halls of the witch's mind.
Neither master nor minion tolerates the other's company, yet, to this familiar, the witch is her other half- she "completes" her. As much as she despises her current role in all of this, these brief moments of freedom and bloodshed still manage to make all these years of agony and atrophy all the more worth it.
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The Witch of Taxidermy. Her nature is severance. A kindhearted witch; she despises nothing but the needless suffering of others, whether they're those of humans or other witches. To free the visitors of her barrier from their deep-rooted pains, she would administer anesthesia into their systems as she lulls them with memories of sweeter times; making sure they at least go out with content smiles on their faces before placing them into eternal rest and reconstructing their remains as memoirs for her labyrinth.
She had already long resigned herself to the karma that awaits her at the end of this road; awaiting whatever punishment fate has in store for her, no matter how fittingly brutal. It is a vicious cycle, and regret over her actions follows her with every step she took- so, until her time comes, she shall keep the names of her victims forever etched onto her mind, as a way of honoring them during her waking moments.
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Barrier appearance:
Not looking too dissimilar to her area of residence in the true ending, it is a fairy tale-esque forest lit by the moon. However, upon looking at the details of the area around you, you'll start to notice that it's all fabricated; a clear representation of Aya's worldview back when she was a child, complete with various small stuffed animals. From a distance, you are able to see that there is a fire ravaging the forest; though the "main" area appears to be safe from the disaster, small specks of flame - will o' the wisps - are floating in the air, looking a little too similar to fireflies.
Eventually, you manage to find a small cottage in the middle of the forest. Upon entrance, you are presented with a hallway that is far too grand and long for such a small infrastructure; a near-exact copy of her old home's interior. Lining up the hall are a bunch of stuffed animals, humans...and even other witches. In contrast to the "dolls'" nigh-perfect conditions, the labyrinth's inner-most layers are on the verge of falling apart; symbolizing the ever-worsening context behind her memories now that Aya looks back at them as a fully-grown adult.
The labyrinth's inner-most sanctum, the witch's residence, unsurprisingly resembles Aya's clinic; now almost completely dark, with nothing but the moon's gentle light providing any form of illumination through the broken windows. If you manage to take a good look at the room, though, you'll also start noticing elements of Maria's room speckled in here and there; symbolizing that, even in witchdom, Aya's respect and kinship towards Maria persists.
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Familiars:
Silver-Tree. Minions of the witch of taxidermy. Their task is to harvest. With a stuffed bunny doll in one hand and a chainsaw in another, these familiars make quick work of the fools who enter their idyllic forest as they encourage their young lady's valiant actions. They await the day of their witch's passing, so that they could hollow out all the curses from her once-beating heart, and leave a beautiful, impartial husk where she once stood; breaking the cycle of senseless bloodshed and misery, and finally freeing her from the suffering she had imposed upon herself.
The Mantis Witch, with an indulgent nature. Willfully ignorant to the overwhelming woes of this world, the witch continues to focus on his work of catering to those who enter his fine establishment - his labyrinth -. Donned in black and hanging their heads low, it appears that everyone - save for the witch - is dressed up for the occasion; someone else has passed away earlier this morning without saying a word, yet here he stands- still resuming his work without paying much attention to the suffocating environment around him. So long as there are guests to accommodate and the ingredients are running low, he will continue to avert his eyes away from the chaos surrounding him and focus on the usual routine.
Oil burns have speckled his claws, his eyes have turned milky from the harsh smoke, and the forest is littered with the remains of those who assisted him with his cooking- yet he can't find it in himself to stop. To pause is to risk failure and witness all that has crumbled apart before him. No, he must carry on with his task; in the midst of mourning and chaos, only a desperate soul like his would ever find normalcy in an ongoing tragedy like this.
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Barrier Appearance:
The furthest thing from what is expected from an afterlife; here, you witness no pearly gates nor the iron barriers, nor could you hear the angels' horns or the chuckling of imps. It's the closest thing there physically is to a purgatory; dull skies, soft rains, silent winds- all that constitutes life and vigor are simply made null just outside this run-down hospital's windows. Whatever colors that do exist, they happen to be in this odd yellow hue that wouldn't feel out of place from an old photo.
As a matter of fact...you aren't even sure if this constitutes as a hospital at all. The walls and flooring appear to be made out of scrap metal and misplaced wood; like if multiple people have come together to repair this run-down place with whatever they had in their hands to little success. Some of the halls don't even have a roof; exposing you to the dull forest outdoors. A heart monitor's gentle beeps echo throughout the winding paths leading up to the grand dinner; a memory is being kept alive within this place, even if barely.
The scent of chemicals and fire are overwhelming...you could feel you throat and lungs being set on fire. Traversing through these halls has turned into a struggle as you try to make your way with watering eyes and searing trachea. If whatever that's in the air didn't do you in, then the sudden sense of deep hunger would surely finish the job...
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Familiars:
Madeleine and Napoleon. Minions of the Mantis Witch. Their duty is to gather herbs. Sprouting from the flowering bodies of all who starved whilst on their ways to the grand dinner, the siblings are tasked with harvesting the flora born from those unlucky enough to perish within these thickets, for they could be grounded into the most addictive of spices. With deep resentment towards the witch for ignoring their deepening gangrenous wounds and his sheer carelessness, the two apprentices wish to break free from this labyrinth and create their own delicacies they could share with wandering visitors. They long for the clear skies and soft dew of dawn, but all they currently have are these candles that refuse to stay lit.
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Merlot. Minion of the Mantis Witch, whose duty is to be the undertaker. A guardian of the afterlife, she guides the souls of those who have finished their meals and help them pass on peacefully; lest their agonized screams and howls taint the flavor of their flesh. In the midst of stocking up the storage with new batches of meat, she'd attempt to dissuade the witch from what he is doing and help him see what's going on before him, but all he could do is shake his head; must be another memory of his leaking into his daydreams...
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The Boxing Machine Witch, with a stagnating nature. The deep well of emotions within him has imploded upon itself; it was never in his design for him to express, much less feel, these ever-swaying sentiments. Deemed to be defected, he was locked away within this claustrophobic prison, with the order that, for every teardrop he had shed, he must strike down another opponent that came his way until his heart rusts and his emotions run dry. In the midst of fighting for his freedom, he had long forgotten exactly what he had craved for outside these walls.
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Nikōbō
The Witch of Flowing Rivers. It is in his nature to be lost adrift. Having vowed to rid the world of all misfortune long ago, he had lost his way and the goodness he saw in this world amidst the thunderous waves. With his sense of justice turned to ash, he strikes all who enter his labyrinth down without a crumb of hesitation, whether they were a human or another witch, as he wanders the land with no direction in mind.
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Pāṇini
The Witch of Intercommunication, with an inquisitive nature. Ever-so curious for what lies beyond their horizons, the witch is constantly sending out radio signals in the hopes of their message being received by any and all recipients from beyond the stars. Its letter of love and appreciation are sewn with words far beyond human comprehension; sending whoever unfortunate enough to listen to it into irreversible madness after having been given full, unfiltered knowledge of what awaits them at the far reaches of the cosmos at once.
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Asimov
The Factory Witch. It is in its nature to crave. Desiring to keep its operations going on, to keep giving and nurturing the lives it has created, the witch targets any and all life forms that dare trespass into its domain; draining them of their vitality in order to gift them to their little automata - its familiars -. The robots are its pride and joy, yet they are individually weak, so it dares not to allow them to leave its sight; even a single one's absence could send it into an unfathomable sorrow.
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Vega and Altair
The star-crossed witches. It is in their natures to take on burdens. Due to their overlapping barriers, similar natures, and the way they interact with one another, it isn't uncommon to mistake the two as a singular witch. They are known as the Meteor Witch and the Satellite Witch respectively.
Once having spread her influence all over the world, the Meteor Witch, having long burnt herself out, is on the eternal search for new horizons and the comfort of oblivion through the darkness of space. Born from the Earth, the Satellite Witch, not desiring the Meteor witch's final moments to be tainted with agony and roadblocks, took on the role of a lookout; constantly blocking away any debris that came her way. They travel the galaxies as a connected unit, yet they maintain their distance from one another; their opposing gravitational pulls will tear the both of them to bits, and all that shall remain is the surviving half's hushed murmurs echoing throughout the vast emptiness of the cosmos.
I saw you said Kieran would witch out. What do you think he’d be like as a witch?
Gonna answer this real real quick before a lecture starts- I would be lying if I didn't say that, alongside the Hau essay that is in the works rn, I haven't been gathering resources for Kiki's witch form and have a semi-realized vision of it. His struggles, his grudges, his character development- the potential is there.
So, while I am suffering over the Hau megapost, I can't see why I couldn't share the barebones ideas I got for Kiki's warlock so early!
--
Since his development is most demonstrated by his Dipplin evolving into a Hydrapple, I believe a good base for him is "a hollow beast with a thousand faces"; someone who had abandoned the person he was in order to adopt an identity needed to win. Over time, alas, his original self has faded away; leaving behind a formless husk.
The topic on a monster with multiple faces also paves way for the mention of a certain demon in the Ars Goetia; Bune, one of the dukes of Hell possessing three heads; two dragon faces and the one on the center being a human's. Bune is known to be able to move spirits from their graves, grant wishes, and possessing over 30 legions of demons under his command.
Move the dead from their graves, huh? Sounds a lot like his poisonous grudge reviving the loyal three!
So, a multi-headed monstrosity with a kabuki mask in the middle; concealing a hollow shell where his real face was supposed to be. That is terrifying of a witch concept on its own- but, wait, there is more!
After all, a witch needs a reason to target mankind, whether it is in the form of active grudges or a consequence of them stumbling into their ever-lasting nightmare. In Kieran's case, I think it is definitely the active case; he wants to "win", to become strong- that is the whole reason as to why he had abandoned his old identity. In his search for a more resilient, formidable mask, he targets those who have come this far into his labyrinth; the people and magi who have perished by his own hands. After all, his barrier is difficult enough to traverse through- those who made it this far should be strong/intelligent enough to find the center; his residence.
You can see where I am going to with this; he rips out the faces of his victims, magi or otherwise, and turns them into masks symbolizing the most common trend in every lie they have ever uttered.
His nature would more than likely be "obsessive"; what better word is out there that can describe his one-sided kinship with Ogerpon devolving into the sole desire to defeat the MC? His karmic destiny would be enough to nuke BB Academy off the map if he wanted to. (E x - C h a m p i o n), but, really, that is all there is to his power levels.
Bune, the Warlock of Masks, with an Obsessive nature...that's almost perfect!
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His barrier, well, this one might be tricky! Seeing that it is the mental landscape of the magi before/as they became a witch, I think Kieran's deep desire to defeat the MC, driven by the desire for vengeance towards them and his family for deceiving him, I doubt it would be a cakewalk to traverse through.
The first thing that came to mind was the phrase "smoke and mirrors"; perhaps a mirror maze is present in the inner-most sanctums of the labyrinth? Half truths slowly devolving into the bitter lies he and the rest of Kitakami just ate up for most of their lives- concealing the weak and pathetic "Kiki" that he used to be, what a fitting cycle of torment this is!
Since one of his fondest memories is reading about the tale of the Loyal Three and sympathizing with the ogre of the tale - seeing that he, too, was an outcast just like her -, elements from the Festival of Masks is also involved; where else would all the other masks he had cast away in favor for the newest one end up? It is a haunting display; seeing the interior of these exaggerated, demonic masks and finding muscles and veins still attached to them...you drop the one that was in your hands almost immediately; the sight was more than sickening.
As for familiars, I think their role is to play as the characters from the tale; re-enact the story time and time again with him as the ogre. The pain is real; he can't ever change the course of destiny even if his heart wished to do so. He'd thrash against them, pin them to the ground, throw them to the wall- but it always ends in the same way, with him fleeing back to his sanctum, looking for more masks to make him stronger. They resemble Carmine, Drayton, and the MC.
The Maestro Witch, with a secluded nature. A heaven made by memories as sweet as honey, and notes as soft as silk; the world around the witch continues to eternally decay from the accumulation of plaque over the years, as the sickly scent of boiling sugar is now indistinguishable from that of corpses.
A hollow, solemn note breaks away from the cacophony of his familiars' chatters; a haunting reminder of the emptiness in his heart and the bleeding cracks in his memories. During his every waking hour, the shadow of his conductor continues to haunt the edges of his sight. He shall not look at what is before him. He shall not dare to ever succumb to the prospect of snapping out of his happy dream. By his own hands, the strings of his violin shall continue to play his hymn, eternally in wait for its accompanying tune, only for it to never arrive- only for their duet to never debut, and he nor his melody will ever be complete again.
--
Barrier appearance:
The dream's illusion has finally worn away; leaving behind an old theater that's barely kept together and is falling apart from years of neglect and natural damages. What was once designated as "headspace" in Sunny's mind has been reduced to nothing but a small stage, shining and floating amidst the "sea" of stringy rot and disease.
There aren't any windows within the dingy halls leading to the stage, the doors are sealed tight...but why do you feel like there's something standing right behind you at all times? The shadows in the hall just don't look right; you're not even sure if that's even your own anymore. In spite of the atmosphere and his familiars' twisted and disgusting appearances, what unnerved you the most...were the spiders hanging from the ceiling; gazing at you with their clusters of eyes...
--
Familiars:
Le Marionette Della Sala (The Sala/Hall Puppets). Minions of the Maestro witch. Their duty is to play by the script. Residents of his little dreamland; their one and only role is to continue having a pleasant life as the lights of the stage, their witch's eyes, are cast upon them. The cruelty of reality shall never leak into their home, the stage, so long as they stick to their roles. The leading cast's aliases are Gratificazione (Gratification), Aggressione (Aggression), and Rassegnazione (Resignation).
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Fiore. Minion of the Maestro witch. His duty is to gather dust. A defected Marionette Della Sala; in the effort of keeping the rest within this sweet dream, his porcelain body, once stainless and floral, is now being ravaged with tartar. As result, he has become a reminder of what lies beyond the heaven that is his home barrier, and is now constantly being rejected by it; leaving him rotting beneath the stage, alone and afraid. The alias he possessed back when he was a member of the main cast was Restauro (Restoration).
