Congratulations Progressive Warlock!

Despite their history of persecution warlocks are actually pretty socially conservative. They’re very, very concerned with tax rates, they dislike social programs, especially when they apply to other people, and they never, ever, ever let women into their warlock clubs. We think they’re called “movens” or something, to show that they’re manly covens.

But that never really cottoned with you. You’re a big fan of casting dark magic upon the earth, sure. No question there. And you absolutely love sacrificing people to your black gods, filled with vitriol and hate who are all too willing to aid you in your quest for power. But you hate seeing inequality in the world around you. It just makes you want to conjure up a hellbeast to eviscerate the perpetrators of bigotry in this world.

Which is why today you’re going to become the most progressive warlock in the entire United States. Today you’re going to stride into your moven with an attractive blonde woman wearing a robe of deepest onyx. She’ll be naked underneath it, her eyes darting cautiously about the basement of the church where you meet.

Your fellow warlocks will touch their knives as they look at her, clearly thinking about what it would be like to sacrifice her. It’ll be all you can do not to summon an inferno with a wave of your hand and burn them all alive in delicious agony. Instead you’ll bring the young woman into the center of the room and rip off her hood.

“This is Kristen,” you’ll announce to the room. “And she’s the newest member of the Moven of the Totally Awesome Custom Van.”

The room will already be silent when you make your announcement, but after you speak the air will have a charge to it, like it’s ready to explode.

“Who will stand for her?” a voice will call from the back of the room. You’ll raise your hand. Then you’ll step forward and draw your knife. You’ll hold your palm out to the crowd and then draw your knife across it, opening a freely flowing gash with one clean cut. You’ll grab Kristen’s head and hold your wounded hand above her mouth in a fist, dribbling blood into her mouth. She’ll swallow it hungrily, acquiescing to the ceremony just as you told her to. Then you’ll take her palm and slice it, sucking blood off of it as it wells up.

As you do so you’ll feel the wound close in a surge of heat under your lips. You’ll feel your own wound sear closed as well in delicious agony. And when you bring your head back up from the totally platonic procedure you just administered the crowd will look baffled. They’ll all be standing stock still, their jaws gaping. All spare one man, who will be fuming.

He’ll be a balding older man. His face will be bright red, his eyes bloodshot. He’ll step forward and shout.

“Blasphemy!” Spit will fly from his mouth as he points his finger at you and Kristen. You’ll worry for a moment that the room is going to turn against you, but Kristen will point her finger at him and mouth one word.

Burn.

His robes will burst into flames, flames of such extreme heat that his flesh will immediately melt from his bones. He’ll writhe for nearly half a minute in agony before he falls to the ground, returning silence to the room for a moment. Only for a moment, however, for thunderous applause will begin to rise as the scent of brimstone wafts through the church basement.

“Welcome Kristen,” the crowd will begin chanting. She’ll smile grimly at them all, and you’ll feel a swelling of pride within your breast. And rightly so. You’ll have single handedly broken down one of the many glass ceilings still present in America, and you’ll deserve to feel good about you for a while.

Congratulations Progressive Warlock!