Pennyweather is a picturesque and historically significant little town on the coast of Massachussets, rather precisely like every little town in the state. This charming hamlet near the New Hampshire border isn't quite big enough to be a tourist destination, but with a small harbor, beaches, and small wildlife santuary, it's a great day trip for picnicking and just wandering. The historical society runs two museums, one on art and culture, one about the region's various happenings from prehistory onward. The general standard of living is high, and the population overall tends toward college-educated Caucasian Democrats with lots of dogs and few children. That's not to say Pennyweather doesn't have its seedy neighborhoods, its chain stores and run-down apartments, but they're pretty well hidden by town planning and a general agreement by all concerned.
It also hosts more magic per resident than any other town east of the Mississippi, but that portion of the census is in the bottom of a very nondescript filing cabinet, and the key disappeared under mysterious circumstances when the whack job who owns the occult store and his wife or sister or whoever that woman is came in to deliver a petition against the closing of one of many local graveyards, bearing the signatures of every resident of their neighborhood, alive or dead in the past fifty years. That's really just par for the course in Pennyweather, and many residents who've never even attempted magic are quietly aware that there's something special about their little town.
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