Tali Lochner | Civilian Nov 2, 2016 16:35:29 GMT -5
Post by Tali Lochner on Nov 2, 2016 16:35:29 GMT -5
✦Distant to strangers
Parents: James Lochner and Katie [Watson] Lochner- Both alive
Siblings: Katya Lochner- Younger sister, alive; Charles Lochner- Older brother; alive
Other Family: Several nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.
Important Others: N/A
History: Tali was born the middle child of James and Katie Lochner in a little town called Guthrie Center, Iowa. The family had a pretty good life. Nothing could really be said negatively about them. James was a truck driver and although he was gone all day, he always came home at night to his wife and children. Katie, however, was a stay at home mom. They were more than able to provide for their children. Tali never was left without.
It wasn't until after she was a junior in high school did things start to take a turn and her life's normalcy abruptly ended. One summer night, she and her group of friends were hanging out at the cemetery in town, sharing ghost stories and the like. Her boyfriend began telling a story his grandmother told him when he was young about a local witch who supposedly sold her soul to the devil and haunted those who sat in her chair.
Tali was skeptical, of course, because there was no such thing as ghosts. Her friends, however, seemed to believe the story and began to skeptically look at the chair in a new light. Her best friend, a brave girl, boasted her skepticism as well and promptly headed over to the chair. Although everyone protested, she sat down and Tali held her breath in worry. But nothing seemed to happen. They laughed it off and left the cemetery.
Over time, her best friend began to behave... strangely. At first, it was subtle. She had complained of nightmares or tests were failed. But it began to grow to the point that in their senior year, her friend had broken both legs falling down some stairs and barely managed to graduate in a wheelchair.
Tali grew more and more concerned with her friend and began to utilize the internet for her research, trying to find some reason for her friend's bad luck. Sure enough, her boyfriend's legend was there. But it was all over the United States. It was too eerie. But she kept on, trying to find something to help her friend out.
Several more years passed and Tali had nothing for it. Her friend grew into a hermit, never talking to anyone but Tali occasionally, hiding from the world. Tali, however, had gone into college and was deeply enjoying her future. Concerned for her friend, she stopped by on spring break to check on her. Her friend began to talk about how a woman began to haunt her day and night, making even the most basic of needs a chore because she was so exhausted. Her friend had marks on her, ranging from cuts and scrapes to bruises and even some home-done stitches.
Although Tali never actually saw the spirit, she felt something... off about her friend's apartment. One night as she lay awake on her friend's couch, she heard the door open and close. She got up cautiously to see that her friend's hoodie was gone. She moved to the window in time to see her walk down the street. Suspicious, Tali followed.
It didn't take long for her to follow her friend to a crossroads on the edge of town. What she saw next shook her to her core. A man, dressed in a suit, appeared out of nowhere and her friend fell to her knees, begging for relief. Tali held her breath as she watched her friend literally sell her soul to this man and she raced back to the apartment. Once there, she grabbed her things and left.
Terrified for her life, she dropped contact with her friend, thinking she had gone insane. It wasn't until a few years later that she read in the paper that her friend had died in a car accident. Memories of that night came back to her and she started her research all over again.
It appeared that her friend wasn't the only one who had supposedly met with someone in secret. She found out rumors of a 'crossroad demon' that people would sell their soul for in return for gifts of some sort and a specific amount of time they had left. She began to feel horribly guilty for abandoning her friend and she spent days in her room, trying to look past the guilt and try to figure out any way she could have prevented it.
Desperate to stop anyone else from falling victim to the chair, she packed her things in her car and began to track down her old boyfriend to hopefully shed some light on the horror her friend had endured before death.
The Devil's Chair
In the early 1900's, a group of witches formed a coven called the Devil's Chair Coven. They worshiped a demon who, at their urging, would gladly terrorize and, in some cases, cause the death of those the witches sought to sacrifice. The demon loved torturing the poor unsuspecting folk and as time moved on, the witches would die, often of old age or other unforeseen complications. Since the witches worked for the demon, he would gain their souls. But that seemed just far too easy.
He began to instruct the remaining witches to build chairs over their graves and bury the witches there. The witches, as per his instructions, harnessed their dark magic and made the grave markers cursed objects. The spirits of the witches who had passed on haunted the chairs. Legends began to rise up of those unsuspecting people- the elderly visiting graves at first- who dare sat on it would experience horrible bad luck or die. Youngsters looking to prove their bravery or skeptics would sit in these chairs and soon, the witch's spirit would follow them home, haunting them, making their lives utterly miserable. Sometimes, it took years. Other times, it took a matter of months.
After a healthy amount of torture, the victims would be visited by the demon at the crossroads. Desperately, they'd plead with the demon for relief. Of course, he'd gladly offer them a deal- relief of hauntings for their soul. At his bidding, the spirit would cease haunting the victim and go back to the chair, waiting for the next victim.
However, there were some who refused the deal. Upon denying the deal, the hauntings would increase in severity. After some time, the spirits would attempt to and on several occasions succeed in killing them.
As the witches continued growing and expanding, so, too, did they lose members almost yearly. All across the United States, cemeteries would soon have chairs pop up and more and more people fell prey to the Devil's Chair.
Alias: Angel Wings
How did you find us?: I be a mod
Experience: Over a decade.
Other Characters: Angel Johnson Jackson Johnson Erika West Diana Harris Gwendolyn Alexandrite Xander Nelson Kaeda Eriksson Victoria Johnson Elizabeth Bathory
Angie swept back her hair from her eyes, putting a strand behind her ear as she glanced at the map she held on the steering wheel. From her research- and digging through her grandfather's things most of the summer- she was close. The witch she was after was only a few miles away at this point. Apparently she opted to live on a farm house, away from any unsuspecting humans who would stumble over her.
And anyone who was stupid enough would never be found again. After all, a thousand things could happen out in the middle of nowhere. A frown creased her lips at that. Everything was just too perfectly set up. She wouldn't be surprised if the witch answered looking like an old woman. It would be a sick sense of irony that made her stomach flip. Humor in the moment was lost to her.
Turning the black truck down the gravel road towards a distant farmhouse, Angie quickly put the map on the passenger seat. It was only a mile away, but it felt like a lifetime. With her pistol hidden inside of the jacket she wore, she quickly adjusted her hair and her appearance to look like that of a ditzy college student who had lost their way. It was the only way she'd be able to get through the door.
Inhaling for a moment, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a stick of gum to chew on, snapping and popping it to get in the feel of it. Moments later, she parked her truck beside an older car in the driveway. Apparently brooms are out of style still. she thought sourly. The farmhouse was brightly colored with a wraparound porch. It looked like a grandmother's house with the lawn ornaments and everything. Tricky witch.
She moved out of the truck and walked up to the door, ringing the doorbell before looking around, feigning interest. In all reality, she was looking for any exterior telltale signs of witchcraft. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But inside would tell her different. A moment later, an older woman answered the door curiously, smiling a bit, clearly surprised.
"Hi. Sorry to be a bother, but my truck is completely out of gas and my cell is out of service. Can I borrow your phone to call a tow truck?" The older woman nodded and allowed her in. The gun in her pocket felt heavy. At least with it being a farm house, no one would know what happened. Taking her first step into the house, Angie knew that there was no more going back after this. It was just the beginning.
I (Tali) have read the site rules and understand them. The code word for the rules is: (BATMAN)