#the witch of salzburg

[writing-whump]

Stubborn sickie

Have some Isaiah with heart problems at the conference and Seline as the caretaker. This was requested from several people, so thank you!

It wasn't like Seline didn't like conferences. Exchange of ideas and minds, presentations and panel discussions, talking in groups with people she otherwise wouldn't meet were all fun things to do.

A wolf conference was a bit different.

For one thing, witches kept to themselves, away from wolves. It was rude to touch a witch that didn't belong to your pack, since witch magic came from wolf shadows and all, but this distance between wolves and witches? Ridiculous.

Second, Seline recognized lot of people that came to Salzburg from Vienna, which was annoying. Seline went to a coven for studying magic for three years during high school. She learned how it worked.

Traditions, recitals, mandalas. Keeping peace and calm for the wolves. Soothing influence. Ugh.

Not only did that erase most of your personality, the process was always the same. When Seline found she could use songs to control her magic and learned some of the classical enchantment songs...like okay fine, it worked, but why limit yourself to things that already existed? You could just create new songs that served the situation, the place, the intent much better. The possibilities would be limitless.

Wasn't that what she did when she saved Isaiah from the silver poisoning? What witch could do something like that if she hadn't known it existed before?

Seline was used in the university's scientific environment. Discussions, questioning everything inside a safe space with your professors and a few students. Her faculty was small and cozy. Her teachers were invested and open-minded. Everyone knew that to develop anything, you had to be critical and relaxed, allow for mistakes and questions to move forward. There were no set truths or principles, just perspectives.

Witch rules just felt stifling. Wolf expectations of her being defined just by being a witch, by what she was supposed to be doing for them, keeping calm, soothing their shadows, studying magic all day—magic you couldn't even develop or play with or question...it just didn't sit well with her.

Boring, limiting, and what was up with the censure against saying that out loud?

So Seline tried to listen to the presentations and discussions of the witches, sneak in with the wolves, listened at the coffee tables for what the witches talked about. But wow, three years later and there was nothing new. No surprises.

How could these people be happy with it? Being just one thing, doing the same over and over? Was it enough to wear matching clothes and sneer at others about how great and superior you were?

Thirdly, Seline has never been only one thing. She was from two states, knew four languages, commuted between Vienna and Bratislava. Her grandpa was a witch, but her parents were human. She was a witch between her classmates, human-raised between witches. On the countryside during the weekends, a city girl by Monday. Stranger in Vienna, but she didn't have any roots either, lost in her home town just the same. Was there even such a place a hometown when she switched between two and by now three different places? Each one offered something different.

So when the Vienna witch coven she was studying at told her to choose, that she could only be one thing, the thing she was born to be—she said no. That was not something in her powers, to be only one thing.

There was way more freedom in science than in anything the witches did with their powers.

But this conference wasn't about her, was it. It was about Isaiah. She could see how they reacted to him. How the wolves always made place for him, how the discussion panels he chose always attracted more attention, how it buzzed with movement where he stopped by.

And since Matt effectively disqualified himself with the food poisoning, representing good pack relationships was on her. So Seline played nice. Listened, trying to see if there was truly nothing new the witches came up with. If there wasn't anything she could learn.

She categorially refused to stress herself out over judgy looks or make herself interact with the witches. Watch, learn, listen, but discussions that didn't allow for dissent or critique were lost causes anyway.

Despite all the shadows mixing around Seline could tell pretty well where Isaiah was at which moment. Either there was more noise in that direction or she could pick up on his shadow, a familiar, powerful presence hanging in that or other direction.

His shadow was huge, even when not let out completely. A gathering like this was a bit of a challenge, because you had to keep your shadow in check to be polite, but you also had to make yourself visible enough to be aware of.

Isaiah's shadow left traces behind in the large room filled with stands and separated seats and podiums, so it didn't strike her right away. She was sipping on coffee by one of the tables without seats, just leaning on it, when she realized she hasn't seen him. And she could feel him, but only in that vague all over the place way, no specific point of reference. Strange.

The wolves opened the balcony during lunch since they weren't bothered by the cold and ate under the snowing skies. The witches kept far away from that, huddled on the other side of the room with their steaming soups.

Seline was stuck somewhere in the middle between the cold and the ice.

Where was Isaiah?

Seline finished her coffee and went down the hall, rather empty now that everyone was busy eating. The noise queiting down made a massive difference to the lively conference hall.

He didn't react to her messages, not even reading them, so she followed her faint sense of Isaiah's shadow.

Two more halls and sharp turns inside the labyrnth of the city hall and a staircase down, she found bathrooms hidden from sight.

And inside was Isaiah, leaning against one of the decorated sinks with both hands. He was pale, sweat running down his face and panting for breath.

"Isaiah? What's wrong?" she said, stepping inside.

Isaiah winced at the sound of her voice. "N-nothing." He cleared his throat, hand passing over his chest. "Feels tight."

Seline frowned. "It's the cold. The big temperature difference and the cold constrict blood vessels. I read about it after your surgery." She came closer, a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "We should warm you up. Take your meds, sit down for a bit-"

"I don't have time for this nonsense," Isaiah said with a wheezing breath.

"It strains your heart too much," she objected. "Where are your meds?"

"I'll feel all drowsy from it. It's just until the afternoon, I can make it."

"You think no one will notice the paleness or what?" She put her hands on her hips in frustrated anger. "This is silly, Isaiah. Let's just call it day."

His stomach made a loud gurgling sound that seemed to agree with her. Since his suit was open, she could see his middle bulging against his tight white bottom-up. With the extra strain, all the blood would go to his heart, not his stomach. It tended to slow or stop his digestion altogether if he ate on top of an episode.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? To go home," he said, bowing over the sink and spitting. "Not on my account. I'm fine."

"Don't be ridiculous, you are not fine-"

"If you won't help me, then just leave me alone," Isaiah said acidly.

Seline blinked, taken aback by his tone. For a minute, she couldn't do anything but stare numbly at her reflection in the mirrored wall, while he cleaned his face with water, readjusted his suit again and left the bathroom.

...

If Isaiah wanted to be stupid, it wasn't Seline's fault.

She should have just packed up and gone home. Why should she tolerate this? Why should she watch him hurt himself? Just cause he wanted to be dedicated to his role? Out of stubborn pride?

Seline took her jacket and wanted to leave. But she stopped in front of the door. What did Matthew say after the operation? I knew it was stupid, but at least he wasn't doing it alone.

The blonde witch sighed, gritted her teeth and went back to the hall.

This time, she was watching Isaiah very obviously. Basically shadowing him during the conference.

Isaiah was a good actor on any day. Even better at hiding his pain. She had to watch carefully, hoping it wouldn't be necessary after all...

He was talking with a wolf and a witch pair. Smiling and talking, but he paled considerably and his smile was more strained than usual.

Seline took two steaming cups of tea and joined the group, never mind her own nervousness about being that bolt or about the witch she didn't know. "Hey darling, I got us some tea. Want some?"

Isaiah didn't answer, but when she put the cups down, he offered his arm to her and she hung herself on it. Or more like wrapping her own hands around it to hold him up.

Isaiah continued talking, smiling, and introducing her. His weight was sagging against her side.

Was this the kind of help he wanted from her?

Seline spent the rest of the afternoon flashing her own smiles. A cup of warm wine, and she got pretty good at it, too. It wasn't that hard to get the witches to talk about themselves or the wolves to react to her. They were easily swayed.

She hung on Isaiah's arm or let him hug her shoulders, leaning into her to hide a stumble or take a shaky breath.

To her own surprise, Seline found out some cool new stuff. Like how touch calmed wolf shadows down, how tracing a mandala or a circle even with her finger on a surface had an effect. Not bad things to know.

When four o'clock finally struck, Seline had a good excuse for going home since it was already dark and they still had that one pack member sick, hadn't they?

"You want to stop by the bathroom?" Seline whispered into Isaiah's ear with a smile plastered across her face for the group of young witches talking behind them.

He shook his head. "Let's just take a taxi and go." His hand grabbed hers. It was stupidly cold, discolored at the fingertips.

Seline suppressed a worried grimace, getting their coats and calling their own uber on the other side of the building instead of taking one of the taxis lined up at the front.

Getting through the last steps in the cold was the last challenge. She let Isaiah sit first, then dropped on the seat next to him. "How are you? Be real with me."

Isaiah was taking quick shallow breaths. Once the door was shut behind him, he buried his head in his hands, fingers clawing at his wavy black hair.

Seline put a hand on his back. "Zaya?"

Isaiah answered with a burp, cringing where he sat. "Don't feel good. Chest hurts, everything's spinning...and I felt too full since lunch."

Ah, so she was right about the slowed digestion. She rubbed his back gently up and down in short circles. "Okay, that's okay. We'll be home soon. You got your meds with you?"

Isaiah nodded, taking a tiny bottle out of his inside pocket with shaking hands.

Seline took it from him, taking two pills out. "Can you swallow it dry? There is no water here."

Isaiah nodded.

She wasn't quite sure if to trust it, his throat was bobbing heavily, but pressed the pills against his lips anyway. Worth a try.

Isaiah swallowed with difficulty, his breathing still fast and shallow. He was trembling all over. Another tiny burp came up.

"Almost there. We'll get you nice and warm, get you some mint tea and everything will be alright," Seline said, rubbing his back. At the moment she was more worried than angry. He must have been exhausted to be so open about his discomfort.

The wolf let out a muffled groan against his hand, curling into himself.

On a whim, Seline put her palm against his stomach still hidden under the suit. It was gurgling something crazy. She could feel it spasm under the fabric. Didn't want to stay down, stubborn thing.

Isaiah held regidly still until they finally arrived at their hotel. He got out in a hurry, Seline right on his heels, made three stops from the car and retched.

"Meds not staying down?" Seline said, stopping beside him, arm around his back as he heaved.

"Ugh...don't-don't think the lunch is either." He panted, hands over his knees.

Seline reached over to unbottom his suit jacket under his coat. The tight clothes couldn't have been doing his heart any favors, either.

"Isaiah? Can you move? We should get you out of the cold-"

Because her hand was still fumbling with the buttons, she felt as his stomach rolled right into it and then he was retching out soup and chicken with rice all over the sidewalk.

"Okay, maybe not," she sighed, patting his back.

Isaiah spat out a brown-coloured piece of meat, then burped up another wave, whole body shuddering. He was heaving for a while longer, even when nothing else came up, sweat dripping down his face. She could almost see the clouds of steam from him in the cold air.

"Come on inside, darling," she said softly. "Out of this cold. It'll help, I promise."

Isaiah slowly lifted and straightened up and let her take his arm to follow her inside.

Fifteen minutes later, she got him settled in the other room from Matthew's, out of the suit and pants, just in his boxers. She put the extra cover on top of his own and let a nitroglycerin tablet melt under his tongue instead of the pills he threw up.

Isaiah was shivering under the two blankets, hair disheveled and looking...weirdly young and vulnerable and cute. It had her heart squeezing weirdly.

He was also very quiet, which worried her more.

Seline climbed up into the bed, kneeling beside him. "Does it still hurt? How is your stomach?"

He curled onto his side, but it hurt, so he rolled back with a groan. "Crampy. Fine though, I won't puke anymore." Despite the paleness, his cheeks flushed brightly at the words.

Seline shook her head in disbelief. "Are you embarrassed? For real?"

Isaiah grumbled something under his breath, looking away.

"You should be embarrassed about being stupid and hurting yourself. Should have packed up during the lunch break to warm up and rest. Or better, maybe you should take a break every day for an hour or two and return."

Isaiah still said nothing, so she took his chin between her fingers. "You hear me, you stubborn idiot? Why can't you just take your limits into consideration?"

Isaiah still wouldn't meet her gaze even this up close. "...I don't want this."

Seline sighed, settling down beside him on the bed. "You make such a big deal out of it. You got some new limits now, things you gotta be careful about. So what? Just accept it and you won't get as sick as today."

His belly let out a long, drawn-out gurgle as if to underline her words.

"People live with things like these all the time. Maybe that's what makes us tougher than wolves. Look at my mom—migraines since she was 29. My granny with diabetes. My dad's ankle acts up since he broke it as a teenager every damn time he takes a longer walk. My grandpa has had a pacemaker since his early 40ties." She shrugged. "Why is this so different?"

Isaiah's expression was almost childish with the pout to his mouth. His cheeks blew up like a chipmunk's and she understood he was fighting another burp.

"You are ridiculous," she said, rolling on her side to be closer, her hand reaching under the blankets to his middle. "Want some belly rubs? Might make you feel better."

The red creeping down to his neck and ears was an endearing yes. She smiled to herself, stroking the taut, overwarm skin as his tummy bubbled uneasily.

He relaxed under her hand almost immediately, melting into the cushions.

Seline propped her chin on his shoulder, rubbing protective witchy circles around his bellybutton, feeling strangely at peace.

[justforbooks]

The Dead of Winter by Sarah Clegg

From the devilish Krampus legend to a spot of disembowelment, the author takes us on a scary romp through Europe’s most disturbing festive folklore

Shaggy figures with snarling masks and metre-long horns, scenes of wild drunkenness, random assaults on strangers, witches winding your intestines out on a stick, a giant “Yule Cat” who will eat you if you’ve failed to put on new clothes for the day – no, it’s not your annual family get-together, at least I hope not. It’s a compendium of European seasonal lore from the dark side, as explored in this excellent short book by historian and folklorist Sarah Clegg. She combines a trove of good stories with a serious critique of earlier mythographers’ ideas about them, and also takes us on adventures ranging from pre-dawn graveyard walks to the terrors of Salzburg’s pre-Christmas “Krampus night”, named for the monstrous masked figures who prowl its streets on 5 December.

Clegg approaches Christmas by a broad avenue, so we get chapters on Venice’s carnival, Saturnalia festivals in ancient Rome, the witchy shenanigans of Epiphany Eve (also known as Twelfth Night), and the wassails of January, in which good health is wished to apple trees by waving horses’ skulls at them. What all these celebrations share is a mood of maniacal excess and social exuberance. Practices include “guising”, or putting on animal disguises; “mumming”, or enacting plays; and “knocking” – going around banging on doors, asking for treats, and even dragging out unwilling residents to join the merriment. The mayhem can spill over into violence, especially in the town of Matrei in Austria, where the Krampus-like “Klaubauf” figures barge into houses and fight in the streets, to the extent that local authorities advise tourists to stay away and the hospital’s emergency department prepares for an influx of injured people. Even Clegg does not venture to Matrei, but the Krampus night she attends in Salzburg is only slightly less extreme. As she strolls amid the usual market scenes of fairy lights and glühwein stands, she is set upon by a Krampus who whacks her with two sticks. It’s all good festive fun – except that she still has the bruises and welts far into January.

Krampus is traditionally an assistant to Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, and even the white-bearded chuckling one himself can be less pleasant than we might think. His punitive side now survives mainly in the idea that he will bring no gifts if you’ve been naughty. That’s nothing compared with the punishments inflicted by other characters in the winter-festival tradition. In northern Europe, Saint Lucy is usually visualised as a gentle, white-clad maiden with a feast day on 13 December. But she can turn from sweetness to savagery in an instant if she catches you going to work instead of celebrating on that day, or if you have forgotten to put out snacks for her and her friends. She is the one who likes winching out your intestines, but for variety she sometimes also seizes children, removes their internal organs, stuffs them with straw, and sews them up again.

In the 19th century, a shift took place towards more polite Christmas behaviour, especially in Victorian Britain. Santa Claus became portly and took to riding around with reindeer. The feasting became less about chaotic public drinking sessions and more about a family dinner presided over by the master of the house: it affirmed the hierarchy rather than upending it. The topsy-turvy elements of the season were transferred to other celebrations such as carnivals and pantomimes, and door-to-door knocking and treating became more associated with Halloween. In England today, the tradition of raucous Christmas home intrusions survives only in the (slightly) less scary form of doorstep carol singers.

Where the wilder rituals remain, they have become more self-consciously folkloric. Clegg introduces us to the wassailers of Chepstow, with their horses’ skulls on poles, and the Marshfield Mummers of Gloucestershire, who dress up like giant ragged mops and put on a play. These events are well-attended, suggesting a revival of interest; Krampus runs have even become popular in parts of the US. Clegg suggests that this might reflect an increasing disenchantment with the tame, Victorian-style Christmas, especially now that it’s so commercialised. The frenzies of last-minute gift shopping or trying to get a train or plane ticket home can’t compete with the frenzy of running around with an animal head.

If so, these mixed feelings about the 19th-century family Christmas were there from the start. Clegg notes that the century that created that kind of Christmas also created a new kind of historian, keen to find dark and ghastly “pagan” rituals lurking behind��the politer ones. In 1890, James Frazer’s The Golden Bough sought a key to all mythologies in a supposed long-lost midwinter rite, during which a king was killed so as to be reborn as a new king in spring. The idea was exciting, and the book became a bestseller. The problem, says Clegg, is that there was no good reason to think any such rite ever existed. The book was “a collection of wild, unsubstantiated statements”, built upon a titillating fantasy of “primitive” fertility rituals.

Frazer has been demolished many times before, but Clegg sees his ideas living on in our tendency, even now, to assume that modern practices are rooted in a timeless hinterland of mysterious, pagan antiquity. This is misleading in several ways, she argues. First, we know too little about what really went on in the undocumented past. Second, it casts the people of long-ago Europe as passive transmitters of tradition, rather than as active agents who reimagined and adapted their celebrations through time. “Never mistake folklore for something ancient and unvarying,” she writes. Like most of what humans do, it is “creative and dynamic”.

Also, the notion of solemn and ancient mysteries ignores the idea of having fun. When the fifth-century Bishop of Ravenna, Peter Chrysologus, inquired into local festivities, people assured him that it was all “just for fun”. He thought they were putting him off the scent of something more sinister. For Clegg, they were probably telling the truth. If people, given a day off work and a good excuse, choose to race around dressed as animals, drink a lot and bash each other with sticks, perhaps they do it because it’s a holiday and it’s a laugh.

I’m not surprised Clegg is so attuned to the possibility of fun as a major cultural force, because she has a strong sense of it herself. Her book is both thought-provoking and filled with amusing asides and quips. Like Gibbon, but with more brevity, she puts many of her best jokes in footnotes. We need all the fun we can get, because, as she reminds us in one of her own more serious moments at the end of the book, “beyond the glow of firelight, the shadows are waiting”.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[gebrochener-adler]

//Gotta write the full tale of Roddi losing his first love to the Salzburg witch burnings at some point bc I am addicted to dramatic backstories and he suffers for it//

[loyalist-archives]

"Oh, we're talking about pets? My station in Salzburg had a few cats named Salem, Valais, and Trier. Don't let Witch Hunters name your animals."

[hvoesterreich]

Strafverfolgung reicht nicht aus, ergreifen Sie Aufklärungsmaßnahmen gegen Hexenjagd sagt Leo Igwe in diesem Gastbeitrag. Ein für uns Europäer schwer begreiflicher Satz. Wie war es bei uns? Späte Hexenprozesse: - Deutschland:Die letzten dokumentierten Hexenprozesse in Deutschland fanden in der Stadt Kempten im Jahr 1775 statt. Die Angeklagte Anna Maria Schwägelin wurde verurteilt, jedoch nicht hingerichtet, was diesen Prozess symbolisch macht. - Schweiz:In der Schweiz wurde 1782 Anna Göldi im Kanton Glarus hingerichtet. Sie gilt als eine der letzten "Hexen", die in Europa offiziell zum Tode verurteilt und hingerichtet wurde. Ihr Fall wird heute oft als Justizmord betrachtet. - Polen und Baltikum:Im damaligen polnisch-litauischen Gebiet gab es bis ins 18. Jahrhundert lokale Prozesse. Die genauen Daten schwanken, aber kleinere Prozesse wurden in abgelegenen Regionen dokumentiert. - Skandinavien:In Norwegen und Schweden waren Hexenprozesse bis ins späte 17. Jahrhundert aktiv. Der letzte bekannte Prozess in Norwegen fand 1695 statt. - Großbritannien:Der letzte Hexenprozess in Schottland war der Fall von Janet Horne im Jahr 1727, die hingerichtet wurde. In England wurden Hexengesetze erst 1736 aufgehoben. - Österreich:Der letzte bekannte Fall ereignete sich in Salzburg, das damals ein eigenständiges Fürsterzbistum war, heute aber zu Österreich gehört. Maria Pauer wurde 1750 in der Stadt Ried im Innkreis verhaftet und als Hexe angeklagt. Der Prozess zog sich über mehrere Jahre hin, sie wurde 1754 in Salzburg als Hexe verurteilt und hingerichtet. Dies gilt als der letzte dokumentierte Fall einer Hinrichtung wegen Hexerei im heutigen österreichischen Gebiet. Also Schnee von gestern? Keineswegs, wie uns ein Blick auf den Bericht unseres Freundes Leo Igwe zu verstehen gibt. Leo Igwe wurde 1970 in Nigeria geboren und wuchs im Südosten in einem katholischen Haushalt auf. Igwe widmet sein ganzes Leben der Förderung des Humanismus und ist ein führender Menschenrechtsverteidiger und Humanist in Afrika. Er gründete 1990 die Humanist Association of Nigeria. Igwe kämpft seit Jahren für Vernunft gegen Aberglauben und Hexerei und startete die Kampagne Anwaltschaft für angebliche Hexen Das hat vielen Opfern der Hexerei in ganz Afrika geholfen. Igwe wurde 2020 übrigens in den Vorstand von Humanists International berufen, ich traf ihn in Kopenhagen. In Anerkennung seiner Verdienste um den Humanismus erhielt Igwe mehrere Auszeichnungen, darunter den zweifachen Empfänger des Distinguished Services to Humanism Award (2014, 2017). Im Jahr 2021 wurde Igwe von der Foundation Beyond Belief mit dem Heart of Humanism Award als Anerkennung für sein Engagement für seinen Kollegen ausgezeichnet Mubarak Bala und seine Arbeit über Verfolgung im Zusammenhang mit Hexerei. Die Advocacy for Alleged Witches fordert die südafrikanischen Behörden auf, öffentliche Bildungsprogramme einzuführen, die die Öffentlichkeit herausfordern und von ihrem Hexenglauben abbringen. Diese Anweisung ist notwendig geworden, nachdem einige Personen im Zusammenhang mit dem Angriff und Mord an einigen angeblichen Hexen im Land festgenommen, strafrechtlich verfolgt und verurteilt wurden. Der Glaube, dass manche Menschen anderen durch magische Mittel Schaden zufügen und Krankheiten und Tod verursachen können, ist in Südafrika weit verbreitet. Dieser Glaube motiviert Menschen dazu, die Verdächtigen, meist alte Frauen, anzugreifen und zu töten.  Im Juli verurteilte ein Obergericht  sieben Personen zu lebenslanger Haft. Das Gericht befand sie für schuldig, zwei Schwestern, Nothethisa Ntshamba und Ntombekhaya Ndlanya, gelyncht zu haben, die der Hexerei beschuldigt wurden. Wie in den lokalen Medien berichtet wurde, „wurden Lwandiso Mzaza (29), Lufefe Mzaza (28), Yamkela Nonjojo (31), Odwa Nonjojo (34), Anelisiwe Nonjojo (32), Zithini Rhayisa (34) und Mkhonzeni Ngcabangcosi (24) am 12. Juli 2024 verurteilt. Die sieben sollen im Dezember 2018 Benzin gekauft und geplant haben, diejenigen zu töten, die sie der Hexerei verdächtigten. Laut TimesLIVE stellte die Gruppe die Schwestern zur Rede, steinigte sie, übergoss sie mit dem Benzin und zündete sie an. Anschließend brannte die Gruppe Berichten zufolge Ntshambas Haus im Verwaltungsgebiet Ngonyama im Distrikt EmaXesibeni nieder. In einer damit zusammenhängenden Entwicklung hat die Polizei sieben Personen wegen der Ermordung einer alten Frau verhaftet, die der Hexerei beschuldigt wurde. Wie berichtet, töteten diese Personen die Frau „am 22. Oktober 2024, nachdem sie sie beschuldigt hatten, hinter dem Mord an einem 13-jährigen Teenager zu stecken. Der Teenager verschwand und ihre Leiche wurde später entdeckt. Mitglieder der Gemeinde brachten ihren Mord mit Hexerei in Verbindung und wählten die ältere Frau aus“. Wie im vorherigen Fall waren die Verdächtigen, die am 28. Oktober vor Gericht erscheinen sollen, unter 45 Jahre alt. Die Advocacy for Alleged Witches lobt die südafrikanischen Behörden für die Verhaftung und strafrechtliche Verfolgung mutmaßlicher Hexenjäger im Land. Um die Hexenverfolgung zu beenden, dürfen Hexenjäger nicht ungestraft davonkommen. Die Straflosigkeit muss ein Ende haben. Die Behörden müssen die Täter vor Gericht bringen. Die Bestrafung derjenigen, die mutmaßliche Hexen angreifen und ermorden, würde dazu beitragen, andere von diesen Gewalttaten abzuhalten. Die südafrikanischen Behörden müssen jedoch erkennen, dass die strafrechtliche Verfolgung von Angreifern und Mördern mutmaßlicher Hexen nicht ausreicht. Hexereivorwürfe haben ihre Wurzeln im Glauben und in der Indoktrination, in der Sozialisierung und Erziehung von Kindern und Jugendlichen. Daher ist es notwendig, der Bedrohung durch Hexenjagden mit Aufklärungskampagnen zu begegnen und Strafverfolgung und Strafverfolgung durch Aufklärungsprogramme zu ergänzen. Wie die Fälle gezeigt haben, sind diejenigen, die sich an Angriffen und Morden mutmaßlicher Hexen beteiligen, hauptsächlich Jugendliche, Personen unter 45 Jahren. Daher ist es unerlässlich, die Jugendbildung und -erziehung in Südafrika genau unter die Lupe zu nehmen. Die Behörden sollten den Lehrplan überprüfen und Programme einführen, die kritisches und wissenschaftliches Denken fördern; sie sollten Unterrichtsstunden und andere Lernmaterialien einführen, die die Schüler dazu motivieren, Hexerei und andere abergläubische Vorstellungen in Frage zu stellen und zu hinterfragen. Bildungsmaßnahmen sollten nicht auf Schulen, Hochschulen und Universitäten beschränkt bleiben, denn viele Menschen werden von den Orientierungen geprägt, die sie in ihren Familien und Gemeinden erhalten. Deshalb sollten Aufklärungsprogramme in den Gemeinden durchgeführt werden, um den Menschen klarzumachen, dass Hexereivorwürfe weder in der Vernunft noch in der Wissenschaft oder in der Realität begründet sind. Dass es keine Beweise für schädliche Magie gibt, wie allgemein angenommen wird. Der Öffentlichkeit, ob jung oder alt, sollte in klaren Worten erklärt werden, dass Hexereivorwürfe falsche Anschuldigungen sind. Und dass diejenigen, die solche Vorwürfe erheben, haftbar sind. Man sollte den Menschen sagen, dass niemand die Macht, die magische Kraft hat, andere Menschen verschwinden zu lassen, krank zu machen und zu töten. Mit wirksamen Bildungsmaßnahmen, die die Strafverfolgung ergänzen, könnten Südafrika und andere afrikanische Länder der Hexenjagd in der Region ein Ende setzen. Danke, Leo. https://humanismus.at/humanists-international-hat-neue-vorstandsmitglieder-und-neue-organisationen/ https://humanismus.at/imagine-there-is-no-heaven/ https://humanismus.at/critical-thinking-social-empowerment-foundation/ https://humanismus.at/berufungsgericht-reduziert-urteil-gegen-mubarak-bala/ Read the full article

[studiocityevents]

𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑬𝑺.

You have been cordially invited to stay at the Moosham Castle from October 24th to October 31st.

Standing on top of beautiful Austrian mountains, the commonly named 'Witches Castle' is one of Europe's most haunted places. Built in the 13th century, the Witches Castle is home to a sinister past, containing witchcraft, murders and even werewolves. Can you survive a week within it's walls?

Recently, the establishment has been under construction. Now under new management, the castle has been refurbished into a lavish hotel with stunning views. As a way to promote the new hotel, the owners are inviting a handful of celebrities to enjoy, not only the establishment itself, but also the many amenities they have to offer on the grounds.

(please note that while some information used for this event is real, it has been mainly used as a basis for fictional, entertainment purposes. photos used for the suites, bedrooms, grounds etc are not real and should only be used as inspiration.)

MORE INFORMATION ON THE CASTLE BELOW:

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺:

While turning the Witches Castle into a hotel, the one thing that they had in mind was luxury. So while there might not be many rooms available, each one has been curated with the lavish lifestyle in mind. Each suite consists of one main communal space, including a living room, dining area and small kitchen. Attached are 1-3 bedrooms, depending on how many people you're willing to share with.

Each bedroom has one double, four poster bed, a vanity, a desk, it's own ensuite bathroom and plenty of storage for your weekly stay. The perfect place to rest your head after a long day, as long you're not woken up by things that go bump in the night.

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑬𝑺:

Moosham castle offers a wide variety of amenities and activities within it's ground. Everything is completely inclusive with your stay and so please feel free to make the most of what they have to offer.

Complimentary breakfast and dinner

24/7 room service (menu is limited from 11pm - 6am)

Free wifi for the entire hotel

Slippers, a robe and a wide variety of toiletries in every bedroom

An in-bar in every suite, alcohol can be removed upon request

A bar that opens every day between 7pm - 4am

Spa area, including a sauna, steam room and ice room

A library with a wide variety of books on offer

A 24/7 fitness center

An indoor swimming pool with hot tub/jacuzzi

Recreation room which includes a pool table, foosball, darts, arcade games, large range of board games and ping pong

Free bikes to use around the grounds and to travel into the nearest village

Portrait hall

Small museum with the history of Moosham Castle

Around the clock staff to help you with whatever you need

Business room, for when you really need somewhere quiet to check those emails

Gift shop

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑻𝒀:

Since the Witches Castle has been around for centuries, it's no surprise that it has an extensive list of ghosts that roam the halls. Anyone from witches, to werewolves, to royalty has been said to still occupy the grounds. People have experienced apparitions, orbs, dizziness, disembodies voices, freezing temperatures, moving objects and more!

While a wide variety of ghosts can be experienced throughout the hotel, the main focus has always surrounded the witch trials.

TRIGGER WARNING: death, murder, dead animals

Moosham castle took center stage during the Salzburg witch trials between 1675 and 1690. As the administrative center both trial, sentencing and execution were held there. 139 people were killed in total. Unusually a large portion was male (113). All except two individuals to be murdered were beggars.

After the witch trials, Moosham reverted back to business as normal. However, by the late 18th Century the castle experienced another troubled period. Archbishop Count Hieronymus von Colloredo dissolved the Moosham bailiwick in 1790, and without funding from the church, the building fell into a state of disrepair. Not long after that, there were reports of deer and cattle and being found dead in the castle grounds. The bloodthirsty locals immediately jumped to the “logical” conclusion that werewolves were at the castle. The then residents of Moosham were rounded up and duly murdered for their nocturnal predilections.

The above text has been taken from this website. If you wish to read a little more than definitely check it out, however please note that it might be triggering for some.

[aureliaeiter]

Oohh this is a very interesting take because I too cringe at some pagans claiming that Christmas is just “stolen from Yule” but I don't think it's a purely Christian tradition either. Yes, it has Christ in its name but its origins don't date purely to the Bible like the Holy Week or the Assumption of Mary. December 25 isn't even mentioned in the text. There was even discourse on twitter this week because an uneducated American “trad cath” saw a video of a winter parade in Salzburg featuring a folk creature called Krampus and he said it was demonic.

I don't know if this is coming from an American view of Christmas (I don't know where OP is from) but in Europe the festivities change a lot from country to country and even within different regions of the same country. This is because pagans from the entire continent assimilated their traditions to the new religion. In some regions children aren't even given gifts by Christian figures like Santa Claus, St Nicholas or the Three Wise Men, but by other folk creatures like trolls, men of the forest/mountains or witches.

That's why I cringe when non-Northern Europeans (it's usually people who just discovered Wicca and think the Wheel of the Years is 100% factual) say “our ancestors used to celebrate Yule!!” because it's just not true. It used to be Yule but also Saturnalia or Koliada or other smaller folk festivities. Not to mention other traditions that were developed post-conversion but that don't really have ties to the Bible. For example, in my province bars arrange these parties where people sit circling a fire and we drink wine and sing while someone plays a percussion instrument. With a description like that you would think it's related to a god like Bacchus in some way but it actually dates to only 400 years ago.

So I somewhat agree with OP and think this is a conversation we should have, given the amount of misinformation there is on the internet. But I also don't think Christmas is a fully Christian tradition either. For me it's a mix of pagan, Christian and some other folk expressions added along the way.

Dear pagans, polytheists, and witches:

It is okay to celebrate Christmas.

Its okay to celebrating it as a non-Christian.

But you HAVE to accept and admit that it is a culturally Christian holiday.

In many culturally Christian countries you have to be cognizant of how Christmas is elevated above other religion's holidays.

Stop claiming every aspect of it is something stolen from ancient societies: bringing in trees, decorating with lights, gift giving— or whatever else you attribute to the "paganness" of Christmas with no legitimate sources.

Christmas was not stolen from the ancients and you cannot "reclaim it" by spreading pseudo-historical bullshit.

Just admit you will celebrate a culturally Christian holiday— its okay to admit that and move on.

[Edit: see my reblog of this for some basic sources to begin with]

[kaseyhillauthor]

The Witch Trial of Salzburg in Austria

The Witch Trial Of Salzburg In Austria

[randomtimes-com]

August 18 - The day of Austrian witches!

In Salzburg, Austria, around the seventeenth century the belief that witches were born on this day spread. For this reason, the children born today were subject to scrupulous checks to ensure that they did not have the “witch mark”, which could be a mole of an odd shape or in a particular point on the body, red hair, a birthmark , etc…. This belief stemmed from the fact that – according to a…

[mortonmattd]

Amazing Historical Events That Occurred on 4/22🎉 #shorts #history

Amazing Historical Events That Occurred on April 22nd If you're a history buff or just enjoy learning about significant events that have occurred on specific dates, then this video is for you! In this video, we explore some of the most amazing historical events that took place on April 22nd throughout history.We start with Pedro Álvares Cabral, a Portuguese explorer who is credited with discovering Brazil in 1500. His discovery opened up a new world of trade and exploration for the Portuguese, and eventually led to the colonization of Brazil. Moving forward in time, we come to 1692, when Edward Bishop was imprisoned for suggesting flogging as a cure for witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts. This was during the infamous Salem Witch Trials, and Bishop's punishment highlights the absurdity and cruelty of the trials. In 1817, the island of Curacao banned the use of white paint due to the intense sunlight. This seemingly trivial event is a reminder of how climate and geography can influence even the most mundane aspects of life. Jumping ahead to 1898, we find US President McKinley instigating a naval blockade of Cuban harbors. This was a pivotal moment in the Spanish-American War, which ultimately led to the US gaining control of Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines. Finally, we reach 1944, when two infamous leaders, Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, met in Salzburg. This meeting between the leaders of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy highlights the dangerous and destructive forces that were at work during World War II. So, if you want to learn more about these incredible events and their significance in history, be sure to watch this video! Pedro Álvares Cabral, a European explorer, is credited with discovering Brazil in 1500. In 1692, Edward Bishop was imprisoned for suggesting flogging as a cure for witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts. In 1817, the island of Curacao banned the use of white paint due to the intense sunlight. In 1898, US President McKinley instigated a naval blockade of Cuban harbors. Finally In 1944, two infamous leaders, Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, met in Salzburg.

[writing-whump]

This is super basic but I haven’t read one in a while, maybe you could write Matt getting food poisoning and feeling really bad, and throwing up a lot?

I'm combing this with a request from @pearlprompts to see more of Matthew's sisters, hehe.

Warning for emeto, scat, sickness stuff.

...

Food poisoning

"I told you not to eat those hotdogs on the street," Seline said in a scolding tone.

Matthew wished she showed more sympathy to his suffering. He knew the wolf meet/conference whatever presumtious thing it was called was important, that Isaiah inviting them to one was special.

But the breakfast they had was so basic and when he imagined waiting through those weird talks until lunch, he threw himself at the first hotdog stand he could find.

Around lunch, his stomach was hurting and gurgling so much he couldn't stand straight.

Isaiah and Seline promptly evacuated him from the oh so precious city hall of Salzburg. The city was basically build around a big mountain in the middle with very pretensious castles and important buildings on the river shore in the shadow of it. Very fitting, symbolically for a wolf meet.

Matthew was currently occupying one of the chairs in their small hotel room, bend over a trashcan and drooling into it, feeling positively miserable and pathetic.

"Seriously, just go-" he interrupted himself with a burp that turned into an empty gag. "Just go back. Don't miss out on the programm."

Isaiah stood in the hallway, suit and coat on, looking neutral but tense. When he was in his public Executioner mode, his emotions weren't as obvious. There was flatness to his tone, his posture was more rigid, the focus on his shadow and his mask.

There was a lot of networking to be done and Matthew felt more and more guilty he wasn't going to be at Isaiah's back. Who stood behind you and next to you apparently mattered a lot in these meetings, though Matthew understood more of it instinctively than intellectually. Half of the hints and meanings went right past his head, if not more.

Not only was he not being an asset right now, he was actively hindering the mission Isaiah came here for.

Isaiah didn't talk about it. He didn't say it out loud, make a speech or call them all in to make an announcement. But they have all noticed, one way or another, that something significant shifted about his attitude.

The Executioner mask came up more often. His shadow was more active, more visible, more on the nose. The power that radiated from him made wolves and humans turn their heads. Isaiah went form being inconspicuous to very present in a just a few weeks.

Matthew could guess most of the reasons. Shawn. Rip. Vienna was unsettled, filled with strays and mad wolves, and humans were in some kind of easy to anger mood, complaining about several world ending crisis left and right.

Matthew couldn't care less what humans worried about, their concerns very far away from survive, fight, eat. As long as you had that, Matt was glad for every new day.

But the general atmosphere seemed to matter to people who looked out for such things as wolf standing in politics. Isaiah was very good at picking up at such signs, for reading the room and identifying problems like that without trying.

And right now, he was trying.

Seline noticed that too or she wouldn't have come. Wolf meets and the wolf community issues seemed even less interesting to her than human community to Matthew. Maybe worse, she sported a certain disgust at anything pack or witch related, for a reason Matt and Isaiah had yet to figure out.

So when Isaiah asked them to come—which he did rarely if ever—they both said yes before they asked what it was about.

Matthew looked at his pack leader, thinking of all those reasons that left them here. "Man, for real. Go. Take Seline with you and do the networking shit or whatever it is." He spit into the bucket in his lap, swaying drowsily. "Nothing to miss out on here. I'll hurl some more and pass the fuck out."

His stomach was still bloated to the max, like he ate two lunchs instead of losing two breakfasts to the sewer system. It hurt too, at weird unpredictable timings.

Right now, despite the constant nausea, it was hurting a lot more down below. His intestines were having a glass shard party that involved breaking wine bottles over his cell's heads.

Matthew groaned and curled up around his middle, letting the bucket out of his grip.

Seline jumped at the sound and came closer, adjusting it so it was straight and close to the reach. "Think you could hold down some medicine? I have some pills-"

Matthew shook his head. "Nope. Will just come right back up." Even when he wasn't throwing up, the queasiness was constant and unrelenting. He felt like he was floating on a boat. Everything was disgusting and every swallow was dangerous.

He couldn't believe it was so easy to do something so horrible to oneself.

Seline stroked some hair out of his sweaty forehead. "You are such a moron."

He shuddered under her touch. There was new pressure building in his lower belly that was starting to demand his attention. He realized he might actually be better off without an audience for this one.

"You guys go. Seriously. Check in on me between events and be on dial, but otherwise, I'm fine." The red haired wolf forced himself to straight up a little, tensing as he counted the steps to the bathroom. They only had one and the room was rather small to get away from the sounds. "Please go."

Seline frowned. "First you are asking for sympathy and now you are kicking us out? What do you-"

Isaiah grabbed her by the elbow though, obviously picking up in Matthew's discomfort and it's source. "It's 20 minute with a cab. Check in regularly," he said, in a tone that very much felt like an order.

Matthew nodded, feeling the pressure to obey. It made him wonder if Isaiah realized how much of a power his voice carried, when his shadow was this close to the surface.

Switching between being a wolf Executioner and the Isaiah at home obviously needed some fine-tuning.

Matt let it slide, nodding in gratitude. When the door finally closed behind them, he sprinted to the bathroom at once, his bowls turning upside down with a vengeance.

...

Three more trips to the bathroom and two rounds of empty retching and Matthew was glad to fulfill his promise and pass out flat on the bed.

On the big double bed that was Isaiah's, really, and should have been Seline's too. He missed not having their smells linger and mix together, wanting to feel close to them both at once. Ah well.

Around four in the afternoon, he woke up to intense before-a-sundown-light glaring right into his face.

It was the last light of the day. The evenings came early and the cold lingers way into the morning.

Matthew sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. His stomach gurgled, but it didn't actually hurt after six hours, half of that spend puking. Food poisoning was intense, but at least it was quick to pass.

He wasn't eager to actually return to the wolf party and try to figure out how his standing or manners whatever translated into shadow, dominance and power language. Just the thought made his head hurt.

Instead, he temptatively tried out a glass of water. It fell heavily against his stomach, but didn't increase the nausea too much. He took one of the powder bags Seline prepared for him that were supposed to calm the digestive tract or whatever.

It seemed settled. Maybe he could try to catch some of that sunlight.

Texting Isaiah and Sel in their common group that he was going on a walk, he got himself a jacket to not look suspicious to humans, though the cold didn't bother him at all and headed for the river.

Salzach was a big deal here, historically making the city the main point of bussiness with the salt, that Salzburg was named after. Now that he was alone, breathing the crisp air, Matt wondered if he could tempt Seline and Isaiah away on some kind of historical tour. There was a lot to sightsee here.

Matthew would have liked to do some running, but just getting to the river on his two feet proved to be a challange. He was ridiculously weak, panting for having to go down the hill. Every street following the river form one side seemed to he up a hill.

Maybe he would need Isaiah to come get him, after all. How was he supposed to climb that up?

Thankfully, he soon found a bench he could collapse on. With a nice view. He was sweating and tired, content to watch his breath turn into steamy clouds.

He almost drifted off a little, when a sudden crashing sound had his head turning. Honestly, outside, he really should be paying more attention. Especially when so many packs gathered in one town.

When he opened his eyes, he nearly fell off the bench himself.

It was a girl that fell down on the ground. Short dark red hair cut into a short bob. Round glasses with no rim. A face he could not forget.

"What the-Maddie?"

Madelaine Blackwell was his younger sister. Melissa was the oldest, Marcella the youngest. Meredith and Maddie were both in the middle after Matthew, as he was the second oldest.

But Maddie was not even a year younger than Matthew. They were born so short apart like his mother hoped that after a shadow wolf son, she was more likely to get another supernatural child.

It didn't work out. Maddie and Meredith were both failures. Until Marcie.

Neither of his sisters were a failure for Matthew. While Melissa was always trying to please their mother, Maddie was like a twin to Matt. They were always together, always playing, insuperable. He spend his childhood, before his shadow properly developed, playing tug and war with this girl.

"What are you doing here?" Matthew said finally, dropping his hands to his knees, leaning forward.

Maddie looked away self-consciously. Her eyes were a pale blue colour, almost violet. "There is a wolf conference. Blackwells are attending."

She kept her gaze lowered. That was the proper behavior for someone raised around shadow wolves. Look down, speak carefully. Suggest things, never order them around, never criticise them. Assist the control over their Shadow's bloodslust as much as possible.

Matthew knew that, but he had been apart from people who followed this for far too long. He was used to crowds, though he still didn't like them. Heck, he went to university and he was fine.

He tried very hard not to take his sister's behavior personally. But then she hugged herself around her chest, trembling a little and he knew this was very much personal.

Matthew was shocked, anxiety spiking in his stomach. But since she was there, he at least had a chance to look at her. He knew they went to the same faculty, that she was good at maths just as he was.

Her slim small built didn't change that much since she was 16. Never worse glasses before. Her favourite colour, by the looks of her neon orange jacket and beet red pants was still the same.

Matthew couldn't even feel any wolves around following her. She must have been able to move around the city freely.

He stood up, offering his hand. "Did you get hurt? Wanna... get up?"

When she closed her eyes and cringed in response, his heart fell. Quickly, he sat back down. That was a more submissive, less dangerous position for a wolf. It signalled there was no attack coming.

Matt slid as far away from Maddie on the bench as possible, something deep in his breaking at the idea he couldn't even touch her to help her up after a fall.

"Guess years of her talking your ear off do that to ya," he said quietly, not sure if he ment Melissa or his mother.

Maddie didn't seem eager to get up though. She pulled herself to her knees on the freezing pavement, so she wasn't touching it so much, but she didn't leave.

"At least you aren't cursing me outright," Matthew said into the awkward silence, when he couldn't stand it anymore.

He had hope somewhere inside that Maddie might have wanted to see him...that she was different than Melissa. Melissa hated him out in the open. Maddie might have wanted to visit, if mother didn't have her wolves watching, her phone controlled, the girls isolated.

"You look good, Mads," he continued. Maybe talking like a normal human, holding a conversation, would calm her down. There was no guarantee, but this was the first time since he could talk with her without interruption in years. "It suits you. The glasses too. You don't look all that much older. I like the colours."

But she was so much more frightened. Frozen. Why, then, when he wasn't even there? Why didn't she live boldy and happily, if fear was why they were forbidden from seeing each other?

Or maybe he should just leave. This was torture. And he would not inflict it on her, if his presence was the cause.

"See you around, Mads. Get inside before the sun sets." He hoped that couldn't be interpreted like a threat but a friendly, concerned recommendation.

Matt got to his feet, turning his back to her. For people who knew the language, it ment trust, letting someone at your back. Not that he had anything to fear from a human.

From a sister.

Out of view, he didn't push the anxiety back as much. It exploded in his chest with a sick sticky feeling...that he would have considered normal, if he wasn't throwing up just a few hours ago.

His stomach twisted. Not one to get sick from nerves, but the walk didn't exactly do him good either, shaking things up. A loud, menacing gurgle echoed through the street. He would have been emberassed, if it didn't hurt like a knife to the gut.

Matt groaned, doubling over his knees. The nausea returned at once, with dizzying speed. He reached back with his hand for the bench to stay upright and spit at the ground.

"M-Matt? W-what's wrong?"

Her voice didn't help. Guilt, shame, anger and plain grief shot through him at once. His stomach twisted and jumped to his throat and he retched over his feet.

"Is it your shadow? Is it pressing you too much?" Maddie was on her feet now too, closing in on him.

"It's not-" he gagged and then a wave of vomit rushed out. He vend forward with the force, barely missing his boots. "Not the shadow-bad...bad food...urgh." His throat jumped with a burp.

"Sit back down," she said.

Matt listed, mostly because his legs wouldn't hold him much longer. The shakiness was back full force, reminding him that he was running low on liquids.

Another painful cramp had him balling his fists on his pants, bending forward. He burped another mouthful of puke between his feet.

Maddie was standing over him, a tentative hand on her back. Feather-light. Like she had forgotten her fear for a second.

Matt cleared his mouth, eyes flickering to her. He didn't dare look at her too long.

"You should lie down. I'll call you a taxi, yeah?" She got her phone out, but her hand still rested on his back. Finding him a taxi on an app.

"There. Will be here in 5 minutes. Hold on till then, okay?" She crouched down next to him, her hand sliding up to his shoulder and then his arm. Not breaking the contact once while she stood there, waiting for him.

Matt wanted to thank her. Ask her. Tell her something more substantial. There could still be a chance to fix this.

He spend those crucial five minutes biting back groans and drooling, saliva hanging of his mouth.

Maddie still held on to him, rubbing his arm. "You're gonna be alright, okay?"

He didn't dare move or reach for her. Scared to break whatever fragile balance was created here.

Where the cab got there and she guided him to the car, he wished she could go with him.

He wished he had said what he really thought.

I miss you...

[letsgethaunted]

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Episode 87: The Witches, Ghosts, and Werewolves of Moosham Castle Photodump

Image 01: Episode 87 is live on all platforms - including YouTube! Image 02: Moosham Castle Image 03: Moosham Castle on a map Image 04: Map of the German Peasants War Image 05: Illustration of the German Peasants War Image 06: Maximilian Gandolf Graf von Kuenburg, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg during the Zaubererjackl witch trials Image 07: The “Witch Tower” where suspected witches were held awaiting trial. The roof was adorned with a tin flag in the shape of a witch riding a broom. The tower was preserved until 1944 when a bomb destroyed it in WWII. Image 08: “Toni’s Room”, the preserved bedroom of the man who supposedly carried out the executions at Moosham Image 09: Moosham Castle’s graveyard Image 10: Moosham Castle’s preserved torture chamber, open to the public still today

[harpoonn]

The Witch of Salzburg: Salzburg no Majo (PS1)

[gebrochener-adler]

kriegerherzz replied to your post: The Ashes Left

im shook is he talking to his daughter i love this

//Alas he can’t have kids, but, he is talking to the descendant of a woman whose sister he loved in 1675 //