The Gypsy

My name is Maria Doe Stewart. I'm a relatively young Romany Gypsy woman with an old soul. My soul is imprinted with the history of my tribe from the Punjab region of northern India, even prior to the great migration to continental Europe and then England in 1515 . Even in India our people were nomadic safely moving to keep bad spirits from finding us.

As a child and young adult, always my nomadic way of life propelled me primarily throughout the regions of the Victorian Era England. I have olive skin, thick dark hair, and eyes so dark they are almost black. My first words were, of course, spoken in Romanes known only to our people. We speak with no written language, all the better to keep our secrets.

I know how to cast spells by dancing and singing (or chanting). I prefer to dance by moonlight for the most effective results. Give me music and my body instinctively moves. My special connection to the moon and the associated water (which is controlled by the moon's effect on the oceans' tidal waves) was explained to me by my grandmother. But, only in snippets from time to time when we were alone. She taught me how to harness its powers to strengthen my dancing and singing spells, to use it as the sole source for spells and to provide energy. She explained that the moon "gift" only spread along the maternal lines of families and skips generations.

My grandmother taught me to have an and have an affinity for the study of the vast and varied wild plants growing naturally throughout England and other European countries. We would collect our supplies of plant and animal parts based on where we were and the time of the season. These served us well creating potions and poisons.

My grandmother was a known healer, and I was a known dancer and fortune teller. We blended into the world of our tribe with our special connection to the moon and it's water undetected.

I have been married and widowed five times despite my age of only thirty-five years as of 1861. My last husband was a Scottish elderly gentleman, Alasdiar Stewart, who promised me the possibility of a life with compassion and calm (as compared to the fifth match making being planned by my father to a burly blacksmith with a infamous temper). I eloped and was, of course, shunned for my disloyalty to the ways of our tribe, forever considered tainted . I can never return to the arms of my mother or the easy company of the caravan.

We traveled to his country estate in Scotland from my caravan's campsite on the outskirts of London. Although, he had promised our union would not be consummated, I had an initial period of reclusively staying in my room during the day and restlessly pacing throughout the estate landscapes in the evenings. Eventually, I came to believe in his honor and began to take my meals with him on a regular basis.

I had already learned English to communicate with Gorgias, non-Gypsies, when reading their fortune with or without Tarot cards . Alasdiar, ultimately, taught me to read and write, and it was from him that I learned the Romanes language our tribe  spoke was called Angloromani in his language. How very odd and obnoxious for the English to believe they owned the naming of my language, when it already had the name Romanes! (but I digress).

As much as I conscientiously learned the ways of behaving in Scottland's so called high society, (everything from the bearing of my posture to the indirect and polite speech patterns) the people who inhabited Alasdiar's social circles would have nothing to do with a "scheming Gypsy". Alas, he graciously insisted my company was all he sought. It was a bittersweet experience because we both knew our time together was to be short. From the beginning, when I did his Tarot card reading and saw his death in the near future, we shared a uniquely sad demeanor, and yet a calling to enjoy life on a daily basis.

He was not like most men that I have met throughout my life. He was childlike in his wonder of nature (what little he knew of it) and he never so much as raised his voice in the time I knew him.

The unfortunate demise of my other four husbands remains a series of tales to be told in the future.

I'm not looking for another husband; I am happy with the inherited funds I have accumulated.

However, I am too young to sit back and simply mingle with the other widows (who would never accept my presence as a Gypsy woman). No, I crave adventure and am joining your crew, offering my skills in service of the pursuits.

My first meeting with Laine MacMillan and Mistress Sable occurred at the Vampire mountain in New Jersey, along with the other .......

Off to the side of the party's path, Maria hums an ancient chant and moves in a small circle. It's a way to cast a spell of confusion upon the attacking creature without drawing attention.

Maria appraises the party that she comes supplied with Oleander if such a deadly poison is ever needed.

The crack of electricity booms and we realize we have a storm ready to break. Maria is undaunted and yet she craves the moonlight hidden by the clouds. She braces herself for the impending deluge of rain and strong winds blow her long hair into her face. So she doesn't see the danger that is approaching....