|Deed Name||Witchin' Hour|
|Tribe||Child of Gaia|
|Sept||Sept of Stained Foundations|
|Faction||Concordat of Stars|
Nadine is an older woman, with long red hair, a stocky build, and a scar across her left eye that made her half-blind. She is always quick with a smile and a kind word when needed. Her Appalachian accent is found annoying to some, but endearing to most. At 5'5 inches tall and around 160 pounds, she isn't very imposing, but she can give a look that will put even the most ornery creature in its place.
Hi y’all, a pleasant evenin’ to ya and welcome to my humble abode. If you’d like to start with formal introductions, we can do that. My name is Nadine Walker, an Athro, Theurge, Homid, Child of Gaia, known to the nation as Witchin’ Hour, but everyone just calls me Nattie. I know y’all came here to learn more about my life, so I won’t keep ya waitin’.
I was born in a little back-water place in the Appalachian Mountains, on the east end of West Virginia, known as Sugar Grove. It’s a bit south of Franklin and smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. There was a cute little schoolhouse for all the youngin’s and plenty of work to be done on the farm. My growin’ up was pretty regular, by the standards of the area. I had four brothers and was the only girl, my daddy’s pride’n’joy. My momma was the healin’ woman for the people in the area that didn’t trust them doctors in the big city, and she passed her knowledge on to me.
Around the age o’ 17, I finally had my first change. This is somethin’ my momma’d been waitin’ for since she had the rites and knew I’d be changing soon. See, she was a Child of Gaia too. I had grown up on the farm, knowing about the shifters. It wasn’t quite a sept, we didn’t have no caern seed or shard, but we had around a dozen shifters and their kin.
None o’ my brothers had the gift, so they went to make a life for themselves in the mines or with their own farms. I met a kinfolk when I was about 18 who had moved into the area with his daddy, his name was William Walker, and he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. We quickly started courtin’ and just after my 19th birthday, we were married. Over the years we had 7 daughters: Ellie, Marcy, Deedee, Virgie, Lory, Annie, and Marie. We worked to keep the woods clean of any Wyrm and to keep our family thriving. Ellie and Marcy both had their first change a few years ago, and we’re still waiting on Annie to go through hers. The rest aren’t going through the change according to the spirits, but they still live at the Walker farm and help the sept there thrive.
About a year ago, after 30 years of marriage, seven children, and a lifetime of love, my husband had a heart attack and passed away. It was real hard on the girls, but I lost a part of me that day. We put him to rest beneath the old tree on the back of the farm, in the little family graveyard we have there, next to my momma and daddy, and his daddy. After the loss o’ my husband, I knew it was time I needed to be movin’ on, the girls could handle the Walker farm on their own, and I couldn’t take the feel o’ that place no more. I packed up my old pickup truck, gave the girls a hug n’ kiss goodbye, and drove west. I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, but after a month or so o’ travelling around this great country o’ ours, I ended up near the edge o’ Denver. I found a little farm there that had a few pigs, a few cows, and a bull that was meaner than he outta be, and a very amiable man who wanted to sell the place so he could move closer to his sons in California.
I had a little money saved up, so I bought the little farm and set it up to be a place to help people. I put down my wards, made nice with the spirits of the area, and started getting the word out that if there was a woman or child who’d got no place to go, they were welcome at the new Walker farm. Heck, even men with the right attitude and manners would be welcome, but watched carefully. I’ve been buildin’ up that place for the better part o’ the year, and it’s comin’ along nicely. We’re self-sustainin’, with solar, food and water. It’s a lotta work but it’s worth it.
And I figure that now that I got the new Walker farm all up and runnin’, I outta go check out the sept that the shifters have here in Denver and see if they need an old witch like me to help ’em out. “Oh but Nattie, you didn’t tell us about all the witchin’ you did over the years!” I hear ya sayin’ to me, but those stories... well... maybe someday I’ll tell ya about the dead queen of the woods, or the black mouthed dogs, or the wolf sisters, or any manner o’ creature that I came across in my years. But I ain’t no Galliard and storytellin’ ain’t my lot. Maybe with a nip o’ whiskey and a nice melody playin’, those stories will come to light, but that’s for another day, child.