Changelings and Fae

Isabella · 8:59pm

The Mistress
Shear-Fingered Mistress of Twilight and Fate

Type: The Gentry
Changelings: Erin Lamothe, Othello, Form, Bat, Glow, Horus, Aurora(?)

Virtue: Justice. The Mistress is fair. If you earn something, she will give it to you. If she gives you something, you know you've earned it.
Vice: Pride. The Mistress is perfect. Her servants are perfect. Her castle is perfect. And if not, she will make it perfect.

Story: He was in a long, ornate corridor, stretching down into darkness. Nothing was lit, here, no lamps, just the occasional candle, and a strange sort of half-twilight that suffused everything. There were statues and columns going all the way down, small busts, delicate horses, elegant women. In between each of these was a large, full length mirror, each with an ornate golden frame. But there was something wrong with the reflections, for they didn’t seem to reflect the hall. They were obviously reflecting something in this castle, for the look of the surroundings was the same, but the room was larger, and there were stairs.

Erin was reflected in the mirror as well, though there was no sign of her in the hall. Still tiny, now kneeling on the floor, with her face cast straight down. And the person she was kneeling before… Sasha couldn’t quite see her face. She was turned slightly away from the face of the mirror. But what could be seen could still take a man’s breath away.

She was tall, taller than human, towering over the tiny moth-girl. She was dressed in twilight, and her hair fell down her back like shadow. Her eyes were black marble, glinting with the hint of a single star within. Her fingers were shears, silver and sharp, and her lips were black as velvet.

And she was perfect. Every single strand of hair on her head was perfect. The way her eyes twinkled, the way her shear-fingers shined, they were absolutely perfect…

The glass cracked, crystal spiderwebs splitting down the surface of the mirror, but it didn’t break yet. The metal backing kept the glass in place, leaving the scene fractured and distorted.

“Are you a thief, Moth?” the Mistress asked, almost sounding amused. Her voice echoed through the hall, low, beautiful, enough to send shivers down the spine.

“N-no, mistress!” Erin protested, still staring at the floor. She was shaking, though she did her best to keep it still.

“You have stolen from me,” the Mistress corrected, reaching down with those shear fingers, and dragging something out of Erin’s hands. Sasha could catch a flash of floppy dog ears. “And you must be punished.”

“B…but it is not fair! You were going to throw it out! You didn’t even want it!” Erin suddenly burst out. She was still young, still had spirit left, still whole enough to rage against the injustice of it.

“You work to earn your food, and board, and clothing, little Moth,” the Mistress replied, putting a shear finger beneath Erin’s chin, lifting it up. “You have done nothing to earn this. That makes you a thief.”

The shear fingers closed, slicing the toy into ribbons. Behind Sasha, three of the reflections of the Mistress turned, looking straight at him. Her face could stop a man’s heart…

“You are entitled, Moth,” The Mistress said, still almost tenderly. “You think you deserve to have anything you want, so long as no one else is using it. But I do not give charity, and you will learn to work for things. You will work twice as hard, to pay for this transgression, until you deserve to return to your current privileges.”

The Mistress in the cracked mirror turned to look as Sasha, and smiled. And then the glass broke, the metal backing gone as if it had never been.

Style: Most powerful of the quartet of True Fae that make up the Court of the Twisting Accord, the Shear-Fingered Mistress of Twilight and Fate has devoured many lesser Faerie in her time, flaying their names from their bones and taking them into herself. The Court of the Twisting Accord is not her first gathering of True Fae, and perhaps it will not be her last. Certainly, she is among the more dedicated members of the Twisting Accord, the most thoroughly engaged in their games of competition and collection. Unlike certain Feud-groups among the True Fae, the Twisting Accord rarely descends to the level of brute violence or crude romancing, though both do occur. Rather, the Twisting Accord competes by displaying the capabilities of their Lost and brutalized slaves, however these capabilities are defined. For the Mistress, skill is paramount, the perfection of art and craft, though sometimes she meets her fellow Fae on their own terms.

Certainly, many of the Mistress's escaped changelings have proven to be unusually potent in the mortal world. Erin and Othello have both achieved significant power in the Wyrd, and the little girl Aurora, if she truly is one of the Mistress's, is the Seelie Queen. Her 'children' are becoming worthy of respect -- and personal attention. Perhaps some of them will one day walk the Twisting Accord as near-equals.

Among the other Signatories of the Twisting Accord, the Mistress reserves her especial dislike for the Sunset Princess, who may be daughter, former slave, rival, or some bizarre combination of all of the above. Her conflict with the Collector is a more genteel thing, of subtle jabs and competitions for status. Old Red is an uncouth parvenu, unfit to dine with his betters, but distressingly unavoidable. The Board is quite simply alien in its present manifestation.

Two other facts are worthy of mention. For close to a decade, as mortals measure such things, the Mistress had vanished from her realm, to what end and what purpose, none know. Perhaps it was a journey, or perhaps it was some mortal occultist who managed to contain her name for some short span of years. But the Mistress is still putting her affairs in order from this absence. Similarly, the Mistress has a deep interest, as True Fae measure such things, in the workings of the Grigori, the captive idiot-gods entombed in the mortal world. Why is an unknown question, but her agents are ever searching for anything or anyone connected with them.

Known Avatars and Agents: When the Mistress appears in the mortal world or in the Hedge, she most frequently takes the form not of a woman (or woman-shaped thing), but rather of some unholy place. Most likely, she considers playacting as some insipid human to be beneath her, though she is perfectly capable of it if pressed.

The Castle Perilous
By injecting her potent spirit into any sort of constructed location -- a library, a train arch, an old manor-house, anything at all, the Mistress is able to corrupt it. This renders it into a Castle Perilous, an area wholly under the influence of the Mistress.

Most Castles Perilous are brief manifestations, over in a matter of hours, but some last for weeks or even months and may occur anywhere the barriers between Arcadia and the mortal world are thin enough (by quirk of the local Hedge or by some more planned design). Destroying them tends to be a Herculean task requiring high explosives or elaborate exorcisms, though escaping one is a simpler matter... if one is a changeling, and can flee into the (very thin) Hedge. Mortals are rarely so fortunate.

Type: Manifestation

Attributes: Power 10, Finesse 15, Resistance 15
Willpower: 25

Initiative: 25
Defense: 5
Armor: 10
Speed: N/A
Size: 40
Corpus 55

Wyrd: 9
Glamour: 50/50
Influences: It's Own Location ●●●●●
The Castle Perilous can extend hallways, raise chambers, seal doorways and otherwise change its interior however the Mistress desires. For example:
• Strengthen: For one Glamour, the Castle can increase an area’s Durability or repair a wall, door or furnishing damaged by intruders.
• Manipulate: For two Glamour, the Castle can change the appearance of a room or hall. Seekers who backtrack their steps can find themselves in a place that looks completely different.
• Control: Three Glamour allows the Castle to animate a room or hall to attack intruders. Floors tilt and heave, bookcases slam together, chandeliers descend and attack with venom-dripping claws, doorways simply vanish.
• Create: Four Glamour enables the Castle to create whole new halls or chambers, or absorb ones that already exist, changing its own layout. The Castle can also flood a chamber with a thick, caustic darkness (an environmental hazard dealing no more than one Wound level per turn).
• Mass Create: For five Glamour, the Castle can produce guardian creatures to attack intruders. Evil, flying things in the darkness, dangerous, malevolent reflections, and the like. For every two successes on a Power + Finesse roll, the Castle creates one Thing in the Darkness/Thing in the Mirror (see below)
Contracts: Dream ●●●●●, Fleeting Spring ●●●●●, Fleeting Autumn ●●●●●

NeoTiamat · 11:41pm

Old Red
The Tempter and Troubadour Incarnadine

Type: The Old Gods
Changelings: Tommy Lynch

Virtue: Charity No matter how low you sink, Old Red's always ready to lend a hand.
Vice: Envy It is a source of constant annoyance to Old Red that to be truly debased, truly malign, takes that spark of human creativity. It galls him to no end.

Story: Take a litle walk to the edge of town
Go across the tracks
Where the viaduct looms,
like a bird of doom
As it shifts and cracks
Where secrets lie in the border fires,
in the humming wires
Hey man, you know
you're never coming back
Past the square, past the bridge,
past the mills, past the stacks
On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with
a red right hand

He'll wrap you in his arms,
tell you that you've been a good boy
He'll rekindle all the dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
He'll reach deep into the hole,
heal your shrinking soul
Hey buddy, you know you're
never ever coming back
He's a god, he's a man,
he's a ghost, he's a guru
They're whispering his name
through this disappearing land
But hidden in his coat
is a red right hand

You ain't got no money?
He'll get you some
You ain't got no car? He'll get you one
You ain't got no self-respect,
you feel like an insect
Well don't you worry buddy,
cause here he comes
Through the ghettos and the barrio
and the bowery and the slum
A shadow is cast wherever he stands
Stacks of green paper in his
red right hand

(Organ solo)

You'll see him in your nightmares,
you'll see him in your dreams
He'll appear out of nowhere but
he ain't what he seems
You'll see him in your head,
on the TV screen
And hey buddy, I'm warning
you to turn it off
He's a ghost, he's a god,
he's a man, he's a guru
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
Designed and directed by
his red right hand

Style: Old Red has a plan, and he's been working on it for give or take a thousand years. It's a very big plan with a whole lot of little pieces, but Old Red's a clever enough devil to keep track of the whole thing. He's a devil of sin and iniquity, and he's a colloquial sort of devil at that. He's not the majestic Satan of high society, but rather he's the folk-tale devil with the horns and the forked tail, striking a deal with a peasant or signing a crossroads contract with a rising music star. Sometimes they get the better of him -- those stories are true -- but even so, Old Red has got himself a lot of contracts and a lot of changelings this way, and his plan's edging every close to fruition.

Just what the plan actually is, well, that's a different story. Old Red never actually says what it is. Maybe he's plumb forgotten what the point of it all was. Or maybe it's something that only makes sense to a True Fae. Or maybe it's to end the world. Hard to say. But it's a very big plan, and it doesn't make a lot of sense, but the little pieces seem to intersect in a lot of weird (or Wyrd) little ways.

He's part of the Court of the Twisting Accord, parading the very accomplishment of his contracted changelings before the others. They don't much like him (too crass, too boorish), but he's a useful devil. He spends a lot of time in the mortal realms, as such things go, and he's usually got a web of deals set up. He's fond of music and venality, and anywhere there's a jazz band or some heavy metal, or even just a bit of a tune while sin is on the prowl, he is there.

Known Avatars and Agents: Old Red's a True Fae that likes a personal touch. After all, he's hardly going to give the Power of Attorney to someone else, now is he? Whether he appears as a slick salesman or seductive serial killer, of course, is a different question. Old Red wears a lot of faces.

The Man with the Red Right Hand
He strives for charm and he gets sleaze. But that's okay, because the Man with the Red Right Hand has something that you want. A tall, handsome man in with black hair and an ingratiating smile, he wears a dusty old suit, with a contract in his pocket and a fountain pen in his hands so you can sign in blood. He always seems to know exactly when to appear, popping up with just the right thing to say.

It's Old Red's favorite manifestation, and it can be anywhere. It's not a violent manifestation, though no True Fae is really 'safe'. Usually, he's there and he's gone, but sometimes the Man with the Red Right Hand sticks around, finding a job, insinuating himself into his target's life. He's the Devil's Advocate, he's the Manager from Hell. He's the Man with the Red Right Hand.

Type: Actor
Seeming

May spend 1G to add +2 to any Wits, Subterfuge, or Stealth roll; May spend 1G to add +1 to any Larceny roll; 9-again on Stealth

Darkling
Kith:

8-Again on Empathy or Subterfuge to gather information

Whisperwisp

SMental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 6, Resolve 3
TPhysical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
PSocial Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 8, Composure 5

SMental Skills: Academics 3, Investigation 3, Occult (Diabolism) 4, Politics 5
TPhysical Skills: Brawl 1, Larceny 4, Stealth

9-again

4
PSocial Skills: Empathy

8-again to gather information

3, Expression 2, Persuasion (Have I got a Deal for You) 8, Socialize 1, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge (An Honest Face)

8-again to gather information

8

Merits: Bureaucratic Navigator 2, Encyclopedic Knowledge 4, Pledgesmith 3, Striking Looks 2

Willpower: 8
Banes: Counting Compulsion (Mild), Hatred of Beasts (Mild), Cannot Set Foot on Holy Ground (Severe), Honesty for Kindness (Severe)

Initiative: 7
Defense: 2
Health: 8
Speed: 16 (base 11)

Wyrd: 8
Contracts: Hearth ●●●●●, Elements (Fire) ●●●●●, Fleeting Spring ●●●●●, Smoke ●●●●●
Glamour: 30/8

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Fiery Touch.......................4(L).............8.........Fire

Immortal Flesh: As one of the True Fae manifested in the mortal world, Old Red can shrug off some of the lesser slings and arrows of the mundane. Bashing damage does not affect the Man with the Re Right Hand at all, unless delivered by a cold iron bludgeon. Cold-forged iron causes aggravated damage, should someone be skilled enough to strike the creature with such.
Ruled by Passion: The True Fae are entities almost embodied by their passions and vices, with higher morality and self-denial little more than a whim to them. For them, passion is virtue, and the denial of passion an affectation. Their supernaturally amoral nature is reflected in an inverted ability to gain Willpower. Old Red regains one Willpower point from indulging his Virtue, but refreshes his whole pool when satiating his Vice.

NeoTiamat · 2:43am

The Collector
The Grasping Beast with Golden Hide

Type: The Keepers
Changelings: Marcus, Rebecca

Virtue: Temperance One must restrain oneself from enthusiasms. Specimens tend to be very... breakable.
Vice: Greed Collection is not a question of want. It is a question of need.

Story:

--Excerpt from the Instructions for Collectors--

Living Treasures

While inert treasures often require special care to retrieve, most can be managed with thorough knowledge of safe packing techniques. Living Treasures are often the most rare and rewarding of finds, and can be easily damaged without proper handling. Since a living treasure is far more valuable and entertaining alive, the collector must be careful not to inflict undue harm during collection process, and cause the treasure to be downgraded to "Inert". In some cases, however, the treasure must be stifled and preserved to be properly displayed.

One of the most important things to remember when collecting a treasure is to maintain accurate records, including when and where the treasure was collected. By keeping this information on record, you can provide valuable information and legitimize the treasure's value to other collectors. Without the information, the treasure is not as high grade as a properly recorded example.

Vampires
Vampires are the recommended treasures for beginning collectors, as they are both easy to collect and preserve. Since vampires are nocturnal, it is recommended the collector hunt during the day, when the treasure is disoriented and cannot easily flee. A simple wooden pin through the heart is enough to paralyze the vampire, at which point it is easy to transport and display. If the collector wishes to revert their treasure to "Vital" grade, the stake can be removed once proper restraining equipment is in place. No further preservation methods are required, although when displaying the collector must be certain not to allow sunlight to touch the treasure. Sunlight can cause color distortion or irreparable damage to the treasure. The collector must also be careful no to cause undue damage when retrieving the treasure, as it will not heal while the vampire is pinned.

If the vampire is unduly damaged, steps can be taken to repair the treasure. Restrain the vampire with weights and heavy chains on all four limbs. Remember that vampires can be stronger than they appear, and be judicious with the weight. Cover the vampire's eyes and mouth with cloth as seen in the diagrams on the next page - ensure that the vampire's tongue is forced down, so that its throat is open but it cannot speak. Remove the wooden pin. Drip blood through the cloth and down the vampire's throat. The treasure should begin to retain its high grade appearance. If the vampire does not appear to be healing itself, it is best to re-pin the vampire rather than risking the treasure escaping.

Werewolves
Werewolves are often considered attractive treasures for beginners, as they rapidly heal any damage inflicted, and thus do not need to be treated as delicately as other treasures. However, investment in special silver equipment is required for any aspiring werewolf collector. They are also quite aggressive, and can bite if the handler is not careful. If the collector is unwilling to invest in the proper equipment for handling and keeping werewolves, it is recommended that they be stifled and displayed.

Werewolves are difficult to take by traditional means, as they do not respond to alchemical pacifiers. Faerie wine is recommended for those attempting to take the treasure alive. Werewolves are unaware of its potency and will drink it in large volumes, soon becoming intoxicated. Alternatively, trickery is recommended if possible, for easy transport and handling. If the collector wishes to stifle the treasure, it is critical to know that werewolves become humanoid once stifled, thus ruining any display of the pelt. The pelt must be collected while the treasure is still alive, after which point it may be released or stifled for other use. Some collectors have attempted to collect pelts from all five forms of the same treasure, but results from this have been mixed.

Humans and Changelings
The choice of treasure for the true collector, humans and changelings are very delicate and must be treated with care to avoid damaging them. There are many ways to collect these treasures. First, alchemical substances may be applied to render a treasure unconscious. While these can be applied via a rag to the nasal and throat passages, it will take several minutes for the treasure to be incapacitated, and it may damage itself in its struggle. Administration via food or drink is a preferable method, as it causes less stress to the subject. If the treasure needs to be caught in the field and the collector is without proper tools to do so, it is recommended to put pressure on both sides of the treasure's neck. This will stun the treasure long enough to place in a proper holding place. Be careful not to put pressure on the front or back of the neck, or use excessive force, as this will render the treasure inert and may cause damage. If the collector wishes to stifle the treasure, the use of poisons is suggested. The treasure may also be stifled via an iced enclosure, though this may cause discoloration.

Living Treasure Quality Designation

To provide a reference point whereby any trader, seller, or collector may visit and use the grading system for use in determining how to grade a treasure by comparison and description. Later in the book is also section on Mounting Tips and Ideas for Inert Treasures once they have been stifled, to best keep quality and high grade for mounted treasures.

Vital Supreme
The treasure is alive, undamaged, lacks any marring scars, and is possessed of superb liveliness or talent. This designation is considered 'the ultimate' pristine treasure. Such a specimen is virtually flawless and an above average example of the race. The treasure is perfect in every way. Such a stated condition is unusual and should be used with discretion.

Vital/A1
The treasure is alive and has very light damage, or is a pristine treasure but without any exceptional talent or markings. Treasure should be as close to 'Vital Supreme' as possible, but not quite. Only the most tiny hint of wear is allowed. Such minimal wear does not detract from treasure in any way.

Vital/A1-
Only the most tiny of imperfections are allowed such as very minor scars. Missing fingers or toes are permitted as long as they do not detract from appearance.

Vital A2
<end of excerpt>

Style: The Collector is the only member of the Twisting Accord that is of a level with the Mistress for raw power. He is a dragon, and not in the sense of 'large angry lizard' but 'immortal, elemental force of nature'. He is, even by the standards of the fickle fae, erratic, and possesses a host of bad habits. He is vain, lazy, gluttonous, holds grudges for millennia but otherwise has a very short attention span, wrathful and very violent, and above all else, he is Greed incarnate. The Collector is greedy and grasping, and it's not an elevated or refined kind of greed. In a word, he likes shiny and pretty things, the more polished and perfect the better.

Where the Mistress prizes power, the Princess passion, the Tempter skill, and the Firm modernity and technique, the Collector elevates physical beauty above all else. He is pitiless and exacting in his specifications, and is perfectly willing to melt down a hoard and have it sculpted and minted once again -- and to do the same to one of his luckless changelings. He has an unhealthy enthusiasm for perfecting his 'prizes,' and has an attitude towards them rather like that of a particularly gruesome butterfly collector scaled up. He discusses their decay and demise calmly, as regrettable facts, and often times kills them before they lose their perfect beauty to age. After all, what point beauty if it is not preserved?

All told, compared to the other members of the Twisting Accord, the Collector comes off as somewhat comic, but this ignores that he is an elemental force. He is Man writ large, all his vices and all of his powers upon the scale of mountains and valleys. He is cunning, and possessed of irresistible words, and when the Collector takes flight, he is the kind of monster that levels cities and renders them desolate for generations.

Known Avatars and Agents:

The Old Wyrm, Valrauth the Grand
"My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath, death!"

In ages past, Valrauth the Grand flew forth from his faerie-cave to ravage the north of the world. He sank ships and flew off with caravans, smashed castles with his bulk and dueled in the skies with wizards and heroes. But those days are long past, and Valrauth stays within his Arcadian cavern, luring mortals to him with cunning traps and hired henchmen. What was once a monster to challenge armies can now be destroyed with mortal jets and missiles, and the form of a dragon is not a subtle one. Valrauth ventures forth into the mortal world only once or twice a decade now, though he still flies above the skies of Arcadia and the Hedge.

Valrauth is an absolute monster. A long, lithe dragon with golden scales, Valrauth is somewhere in the mid-point between a European and an Asian dragon, serpentine (or perhaps feline) rather than lizardlike. His body resembles nothing quite so much as an enormous, scaled hunting cat. He stretches a good 85 feet from his jaws to the tip of his tail, though most of that is neck and tail. He has a wingspan of almost a hundred feet, and weighs eighty tons. His central body is just a bit bigger than a city bus. Despite his bulk, however, Valrauth is surprisingly fast and nimble, and stealthier than one would expect something of his size to be.

Type: Actor

Note: Valrauth is a True Fae that exists on the scale of armies. Facing him without either dozens of powerful allies or a few anti-tank rockets is basically suicide.

TMental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 5, Resolve 4
PPhysical Attributes: Strength 20, Dexterity 4, Stamina 15
SSocial Attributes: Presence 8, Manipulation 6, Composure 4

TMental Skills: Academics 3, Crafts 2, Investigation 3, Medicine 1, Occult 5, Politics 4, Science 1
SPhysical Skills: Athletics (Dragon's Breath) 5, Brawl 5, Stealth 3, Survival 5
PSocial Skills: Expression 2, Intimidation 10, Persuasion 6, Socialize 1, Subterfuge 6

Merits: Eidetic Memory 2, Encyclopedic Knowledge 4, Iron Stamina 3

Willpower: 8
Banes: Counting Compulsion (Mild),

Initiative: 7
Defense: 4
Armor: 5/7 (This is Durability, not Armor; see Armor like Tenfold Shields)
Mind Shield: 9
Size: 20
Health: 35
Speed (Ground): 25 (Species Factor 1)
Speed (Air): 100 (Species Factor 76)

Wyrd: 9
Aspects: Immortal Flesh; Ruled by Passion; Furnace Breath; Dragon's Fury; Great Size, Small Targets; Armor like Tenfold Shields
Contracts: Artifice ●●●, Dream ●●●, Elements (Fire) ●●●●, Smoke ●●●, Vainglory ●●●●●
Glamour: 50/10

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Furnace Breath...................5A...............15.............AP 10, Long Burst
Teeth like Swords................3L...............28.............
Claws like Spears.................4L................29............
Tail, a Thunderbolt...............5B................30............Knockdown, Stun
Wings, a Hurricane...............N/A..............20............Knockdown, Range 10/20/40

Aspects:
Immortal Flesh: As one of the True Fae manifested in the mortal world, the dragon can shrug off some of the lesser slings and arrows of the mundane. Bashing damage does not affect Valrauth at all, unless delivered by a cold iron bludgeon. Cold-forged iron causes aggravated damage, should someone be skilled enough to strike the creature with such.
Ruled by Passion: The True Fae are entities almost embodied by their passions and vices, with higher morality and self-denial little more than a whim to them. For them, passion is virtue, and the denial of passion an affectation. Their supernaturally amoral nature is reflected in an inverted ability to gain Willpower. Valrauth regains one Willpower point from indulging his Virtue, but refreshes his whole pool when satiating his Vice.
Furnace Breath: By spending 3 glamour, Valrauth can spew forth a furnace-blast wave of flames, hot enough to melt steel. This is a Dex+Athletics+5 attack, and acts as a Long Burst from a firearms (the bonus already included), save that defense applies.
Dragon's Fury: Valrauth normally only makes one attack (bite, claw, tail, or wing) per turn. By spending three points of Glamour per attack as a reflexive action, however, Valrauth can add up to two more attacks in a given turn (though no more than one bite or tail attack per turn, and no more than two claw or wing attacks per turn).
Great Size, Small Targets: Simply put, trying to fight mortal-sized things is like dueling mice for Valrauth. He takes a -5 penalty on all attacks against anything of Size 5.
Armor like Tenfold Shields: Valrauth's scales are akin to a couple of inches of steel plating; furthermore, all of his internal organs are behind many feet of muscle and sinewy. Valrauth has a Durability rating of 5 against melee attacks, and 7 against firearms. Called shots against vulnerable areas can reduce this rating. Armor Piercing reduces this Durability at the rate of 1 Durability less for each 3 points of AP.

Cat Sidhe
Much as the Collector would prefer to rain down dragon-fire upon London as Valrauth, he realizes that times have changed. And so, the Collector is most commonly encountered now in the form of Cat Sidhe, though very few realize that the temperamental Hobgoblin is in fact a True Fae (there are rumors, but there are rumors like that about most powerful fae creatures -- in this case they just happen to be right).

Cat Sidhe takes the form of an extremely large domestic cat, about the size of a leopard, with golden-greenish fur, tufted ears, and a sharp bone-spur on his tail. His personality is quintessentially cat, but cat as 'perfectly engineered murder machine' and not 'cat as trickster' or 'cat as local divinity'. One wizard described him as "Hyperviolent and easily bored." Mostly, Cat Sidhe causes trouble in the mortal world, and serves as the Collector's hands there.

Type: Actor
Clan: Daeva

Note: Cat Sidhe is a fae creature, but mechanically is more similar to a vampire. He gains Vitae by breath-drinking (clamping his jaws around a target's mouth and pulling out pieces of their soul), which deals damage and gains Vitae equivalent to a regular vampire's. He has the Daeva Clan weakness, and uses Vampire disciplines, though he still has a Wyrd score and the normal vulnerability to Cold iron.

SMental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 6, Resolve 3
PPhysical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 10, Stamina 3
TSocial Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 5, Composure 5

TMental Skills: Academics 1, Investigation 4, Occult 3, Politics 2
PPhysical Skills: Athletics 4, Brawl 8, Larceny 2, Stealth 8, Survival 4
SSocial Skills: Animal Ken 2, Intimidation 5, Persuasion 4, Subterfuge 5

Merits: Fighting Finesse (Bite, Claws) 2, Fast Reflexes 2, Fleet of Foot 3

Willpower: 8
Banes: Counting Compulsion (Mild), Uninvited (Mild), Honesty for Kindness (Severe)

Initiative: 17 (23 w/ Celerity)
Defense: 10 (+6/6 w/ Celerity)
Mind Shield: 9
Size: 5
Health: 8
Speed: 29 (Species Factor 13)

Wyrd: 9
Aspects: Immortal Flesh; Ruled by Passion
Disciplines: Auspex ●●, Celerity ●●●●●●●, Nightmare ●●●, Obfuscate ●●●●●●
Devotions: Preemptive Reflexes
Vitae: 50/10

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Bite......................................2L...............20/27........Flower of Death
Claws...................................1L...............19/26........Flower of Death

Aspects & Advanced Disciplines:
Immortal Flesh: As one of the True Fae manifested in the mortal world, the cat can shrug off some of the lesser slings and arrows of the mundane. Bashing damage does not affect Cat Sidhe at all, unless delivered by a cold iron bludgeon. Cold-forged iron causes aggravated damage, should someone be skilled enough to strike the creature with such.
Ruled by Passion: The True Fae are entities almost embodied by their passions and vices, with higher morality and self-denial little more than a whim to them. For them, passion is virtue, and the denial of passion an affectation. Their supernaturally amoral nature is reflected in an inverted ability to gain Willpower. Cat Sidhe regains one Willpower point from indulging his Virtue, but refreshes his whole pool when satiating his Vice.
Celerity 7: Flower of Death: Cat Sidhe spends 4 Vitae as an Instant Action and gains his Celerity as a bonus to all melee attack pools for the scene. Unlike when a vampire does it, Cat Sidhe is able to use regular Celerity along with the Flower of Death (though his Celerity is effectively 6 for defense, initiative, and speed purposes).
Obfuscate 6: Mind Blank: Cat Sidhe has an effective Mind Shield equal to his Obfuscate dots.

NeoTiamat · 11:41pm

Sunset
The Sunset Princess of Stolen Desire

Type: The Fair Folk
Changelings: Todd White, Dana the Tall, Reynarde

Virtue: Hope No one can feel unhappy for long when Sunset is around.
Vice: Lust She will take your breath away.

Story:
"I wish that you would visit me one day, in my house.
There are such sights I would show you."

My intended lowers her eyes, and, yes, she shivers.
Her father and his friends all hoot and cheer.

"That's never a story, Mr. Fox," chides a pale woman
in the corner of the room, her hair corn-fair,
her eyes the grey of cloud, meat on her bones,
she curves, and smiles crooked and amused.

"Madame, I am no storyteller," and I bow, and ask,
"Perhaps, you have a story for us?" I raise an eyebrow.

Her smile remains.
She nods, then stands, her lips move:

"A girl from the town, a plain girl, was betrayed by her lover,
a scholar. So when her blood stopped flowing,
and her belly swole beyond disguising,
she went to him, and wept hot tears. He stroked her hair,
swore that they would marry, that they would run,
in the night,
together,
to his aunt. She believed him;
even though she had seen the glances in the hall
he gave to his master's daughter,
who was fair, and rich, she believed him.
Or she believed what she believed.

"There was something sly about his smile,
his eyes so black and sharp, his rufous hair. Something
that sent her early to their trysting place,
beneath the oak, beside the thornbush,
something that made her climb the tree and wait.
Climb a tree, and in her condition.
Her love arrived at dusk, skulking by owl-light,
carrying a bag,
from which he took a mattock, shovel, knife.
He worked with a will, beside the thornbush,
beneath the oaken tree,
he whistled gently, and he sang, as he dug her grave,
that old song...
shall I sing it for you, now, good folk?"

She pauses, and as a one we clap and holloa — or almost as a one:
My intended, her hair so dark, her cheeks so pink,
her lips so red,
seems distracted.
The fair girl (who is she? A guest of the inn, I hazard) sings:

"A fox went out on a shiny night
And he begged for the moon to give him light
For he'd many miles to go that night
Before he'd reach his den–O!
Den–O! Den–O!
He'd many miles to go that night, before he'd reach is den–O."

Her voice was sweet and fine, but the voice of my intended is finer.

"And when her grave was dug—
A small hole it was, for she was a little thing,
even big with child she was a little thing–
he walked below her, back and forth,
rehearsing her hearsing, thus:

-Good evening, my pigsnie, my love,
my, but you look a treat in the moon's light,
mother of my child-to-be. Come, let me hold you.
And he'd embrace the midnight air with one hand,
and with the other, holding his short but wicked knife,
he'd stab and stab the dark.

"She trembled in her oak above him. Breathed so softly,
but still she shook. And once he looked up, and said,
—Owls, I'll wager, and another time, fie! is that a cat
up there? Here puss... But she was still,
bethought herself a branch, a leaf, a twig. At dawn
he took his mattock, spade and knife, and left
all grumbling and gudgeoned of his prey.

"They found her later wandering, her wits
had left her. There were oak leaves in her hair
and she sang,

'The bough did bend
The bough did break
I saw the hole
The fox did make

'We swore to love
We swore to marry
I saw the blade
The fox did carry'

"They say that her babe, when it was born,
had a fox's paw on her and not a hand.
Fear is the sculptress, midwives claim. The scholar fled."

And she sits down, to general applause.
The smile twitches, hides about her lips: I know it's there,
it waits in her grey eyes. She stares at me, amused.

"I read that in the Orient foxes follow priests and scholars,
in disguise as women, houses, mountains, gods, processions,
always discovered by their tails— " so I begin,
but my intended's father intercedes.
"Speaking of tales — my dear, you said you had a tale?"

My intended flushes. There are no rose petals,
save for her cheeks. She nods, and says:
"My story, father? My story is the story of a dream I dreamed."
Her voice is so quiet and soft, we hush ourselves to hear,
outside the inn just the night sounds: an owl hoots,
but, as the old folk say, I live too near the wood
to be frightened by an owl.

She looks at me.

"You, sir. In my dream you rode to me, and called,
–Come to my house, my sweet, away down the White Road.
There are such sights as I would show you.
I asked how I would find your house, down the white chalk road,
for it's a long road, and a dark one, under trees
that make the light all green and gold when the sun is high,
but shade the road at other times. At night
it's pitch–black; there is no moonlight on the White Road...

"And you said, Mister Fox — and this is most curious, but dreams
are treacherous and curious and dark—
that you would cut the throat of a sow-pig,
and you would walk her home behind your fine black stallion.
You smiled,
smiled, Mister Fox, with your red lips and your green eyes,
eyes that could snare a maiden's soul, and your yellow teeth,
which could eat her heart— "

"God forbid," I smiled. All eyes were on me, then, not her,
though hers was the story. Eyes, such eyes.

"So, in my dream, it became my fancy to visit your great house,
as you had often entreated me to do,
to walk its glades and paths, to see the pools,
the statues you had brought from Greece, the yews,
the poplar-walk, the grotto, and the bower.
And, as this was but a dream, I did not wish
to take a chaperone
—some withered, juiceless prune
who would not appreciate your house, Mister Fox; who
would not appreciate your pale skin,
nor your green eyes,
nor your engaging ways.

"So I rode the white chalk road, following the red blood path,
on Betsy, my filly. The trees above were green.
A dozen miles straight, and then the blood
led me off across meadows, over ditches, down a gravel path,
(but now I needed sharp eyes to catch the blood—
a drip, a drop: the pig must have been dead as anything)
and I reined my filly in front of a house.
And such a house. A Palladian delight, immense,
a landscape of its own, windows, columns,
a white stone monument to verticality, expansive.

"There was a sculpture in the garden, before the house,
a Spartan child, stolen fox half-concealed in its robe,
the fox biting the child's stomach, gnawing the vitals away,
the stoic child bravely saying nothing—
what could it say, cold marble that it was?
There was pain in its eyes, and it stood
upon a plinth upon which were carved eight words.
I walked around it and I read:
Be bold,
Be bold,
but not too bold.

"I tethered little Betsy in the stables,
between a dozen night black stallions
each with blood and madness in his eyes.
I saw no one.
I walked to the front of the house, and up the great steps.
The huge doors were locked fast,
no servants came to greet me, when I knocked.
In my dream (for do not forget, Mister Fox, that this was my dream.
You look so pale) the house fascinated me,
the kind of curiosity (you know this,
Mister Fox, I see it in your eyes) that kills cats.

"I found a door, a small one, off the latch,
and pushed my way inside.
Walked corridors, lined with oak, with shelves,
with busts, with trinkets,
I walked, my feet silent on the scarlet carpet,
until I reached the great hall.
It was there again, in red stones that glittered,
set into the white marble of the floor,
it said:
Be bold,
be bold,
but not too bold
Or else your life's blood
shall run cold.

"There were stairs, wide, carpeted in scarlet,
off the great hall,
and I walked up them, silently, silently.
Oak doors: and now
I was in a dining room, or so I am convinced,
for the remnants of a grisly supper
were abandoned, cold and fly-buzzed.
Here was a half-chewed hand, there, crisped and picked,
a face, a woman's face, who must in life, I fear,
have looked like me."

"Heaven defend us all from such dark dreams," her father cried.
"Can such things be?"

"It is not so," I assured him. The fair woman's smile
glittered behind her grey eyes. People
need assurances.

"Behind the supper room was a room,
a huge room, this inn would fit in that room,
piled promiscuously with rings and bracelets,
necklaces, pearl drops, ball gowns, fur wraps,
lace petticoats, silks and satins. Ladies' boots,
and muffs, and bonnets: a treasure cave and dressing room—
diamonds and rubies underneath my feet.

"Beyond that room I knew myself in Hell.
In my dream...
I saw many heads. The heads of young women. I saw a wall
on which dismembered limbs were nailed.
A heap of breasts. The piles of guts, of livers, lights,
the eyes, the...
No. I cannot say. And all around the flies were buzzing,
one low droning buzz.
-Bëelzebubzebubzebub they buzzed. I could not breathe,
I ran from there and sobbed against a wall."

"A fox's lair indeed," says the fair woman.
("It was not so," I mutter.)
"They are untidy creatures, so to litter,
about their dens the bones and skins and feathers
of their prey. The French call him Renard,
the Scottish, Tod."

"One cannot help one's name," says my intended's father.
He is almost panting now, they all are:
in the firelight, the fire's heat, lapping their ale.
The wall of the inn was hung with sporting prints.

She continues:
"From outside I heard a crash and a commotion.
I ran back the way I had come, along the red carpet,
down the wide staircase—too late!—the main door was opening!
I threw myself down the stairs-rolling, tumbling—
fetched up hopelessly beneath a table,
where I waited, shivered, prayed."

She points at me. "Yes, you, sir. You came in,
crashed open the door, staggered in, you sir,
dragging a young woman
by her red hair and by her throat.
Her hair was long and unconfined, she screamed and strove
to free herself. You laughed, deep in your throat,
were all a-sweat, and grinned from ear to ear."

She glares at me. The color's in her cheeks.
"You pulled a short old broadsword, Mister Fox, and as she screamed,
you slit her throat, again from ear to ear.
I listened to her bubbling, sighing, shrieking,
closed my eyes and prayed until she stopped.
And after much, much, much too long, she stopped.

"And I looked out. You smiled, held up your sword,
your hands agore—blood— "

"In your dream," I tell her.

"In my dream.
She lay there on the marble, as you sliced,
you hacked, you wrenched, you panted, and you stabbed.
You took her head from her shoulders,
thrust your tongue between her red wet lips.
You cut off her hands. Her pale white hands.
You sliced open her bodice, you removed each breast.
Then you began to sob and howl.
Of a sudden,
clutching her head, which you carried by the hair,
the flame red hair,
you ran up the stairs.

"As soon as you were out of sight,
I fled through the open door.
I rode my Betsy home, down the White Road."

All eyes upon me now. I put down my ale,
on the old wood of the table.
"It is not so,"
I told her,
told all of them.
"It was not so, and
God forbid
it should be so. It was
an evil dream. I wish such dreams
on no one."

"Before I fled the charnel house,
before I rode poor Betsy into a lather,
before we fled down the White Road,
the blood still red
(and was it a pig whose throat you slit, Mister Fox?),
before I came to my father's inn,
before I fell before them, speechless,
my father, brothers, friends— "

All honest farmers, fox-hunting men.
They are stamping their boots, their black boots.

" —before that, Mister Fox,
I seized from the floor, from the bloody floor,
her hand, Mister Fox. The hand of the woman
you hacked apart before my eyes."

"It is not so— "

"It was no dream. You Creature. You Bluebeard."

"It was not so—"

"You Gilles de Rais. You monster."

"And God forbid it should be so!"

She smiles now, lacking mirth or warmth.
The brown hair curls around her face,
roses twining about a bower.
Two spots of red are burning on her cheeks.

"Behold, Mister Fox! Her hand! Her poor pale hand!"
She pulls it from her breasts (gently freckled,
I had dreamed of those breasts),
tosses it down upon the table.
It lies in front of me.
Her father, brothers, friends,
they stare at me hungrily,
and I pick up the small thing.

The hair was red indeed, and ranks. The pads and claws
were rough. One end was bloody
but the blood had dried.

"This is no hand," I tell them. But the first
fist knocks the wind from out of me,
an oaken cudgel hits my shoulder,
as I stagger,
the first black boot kicks me down onto the floor.
And then a rain of blows beats down on me,
I curl and mewl and pray and grip the paw
so tightly.

Perhaps I weep.

I see her then,
the pale, fair girl, the smile has reached her lips,
her skirts so long as she slips, grey–eyed,
amused beyond all bearing, from the room.
She'd many a mile to go, that night.
And as she leaves,
from my vantage place on the floor,
I see the brush, the tail between her legs;
I would have called,
but could speak no more. Tonight she'll be running
four–footed, surefooted, down the White Road.

What if the hunters come?
What if they come?

Be bold, I whisper once, before I die.
But not too bold...

And then my tale is done.

-------------------------Neil Gaiman, The White Road

Style: The youngest of the Twisting Accord, however the True Fae measure such things, the Sunset Princess of Stolen Desires is a creature of brief infatuations. Unlike True Fae such as the Mistress or the Board, Sunset very much prefers a personal touch, granting a single changeling her direct and constant attention until such a point as her interest wanes. She takes few of the Lost away, but she is hard on them, and those that survive her are usually broken, emotionally-damaged shells of what they once were. Only the fact that her interest fades after a time allows her enthralled slaves to ever escape. She is in some strange way counterpart and rival to the Mistress, the perfect abusive lover to the Mistress's perfect abusive parent. The two True Fae have a keen competition, Sunset championing the passion of her toys against the Mistress's cold, technical skill.

Sunset is also quite willing to extend her personal touch in the mortal realms. She appears as the Girl With Russet Hair, most often to pursue some brief infatuation, but also to spread her own personal brand of chaos. Sunset adores emotional drama, the more tragic and violent the better. She thrives on betrayal and love-turned-to-hate, using her subtle wiles to drive such little stories of indiscretion and broken promises until they turn into tales of suicide and murder right out of Arthurian myth. They called her Morgana, once, Morgana le Fay.

Known Avatars and Agents: Either for reasons of weakness or personal preference, Sunset rarely employs the vast entourages or legions of servitors that others of the True Fae prefer. Instead, she goes abroad in the mortal world cloaked in her own skin.

The Girl With Russet Hair
The Sunset Princess's chosen form in the mortal world, The Girl With Russet Hair is an old hand at passing for mortals. She appears as nothing more than a striking young woman with soft, reddish-brown hair and a wild and mischievous smile. Taking some mortal name, the Girl insinuates herself into her victim's life, enticing them and breaking them by equal measures, until the hapless mortal begs to be taken away.

Type: Actor
Seeming

May spend 1G to add +2 to any Presence, Manipulation, or Persuasion roll

Fairest
Kith:

May spend 1G to grant any mortal +4 to a single Expression, Persuasion, Socialize or Subterfuge roll, or -2 to the same rolls

Muse

SMental Attributes: Intelligence 5, Wits 5, Resolve 2
TPhysical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4
PSocial Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 6, Composure 4

TMental Skills: Academics 2, Investigation 3, Occult 4, Politics 4
SPhysical Skills: Athletics (Jumping) 6, Brawl

No 10-agains and 1s subract

0, Larceny 4, Stealth 4
PSocial Skills: Empathy (What Hurts You?) 5, Expression 4, Intimidation 4, Persuasion (Seduce) 7, Socialize 4, Subterfuge (The Hurtful Lie) 6

Merits: Fast Reflexes 2, Fleet of Foot 3, Mantle (All) 4, Striking Looks 4, Token (

Allows the Faerie to use the Omen 4: Vision of Disaster Contract, but Sunset loses 10-agains and 1s subtract on Brawl rolls

Mirror of Omens) 4

Willpower: 6
Banes: Repulsion -- Fresh-Cut Flowers (Mild), Uninvited (Mild), Burning Purity (Severe), Fox's Shadow (Severe), Must Consume Nothing But Raw Meat (Severe)

Initiative: 10
Defense: 4
Health: 9
Speed: 18 (base 9)

Wyrd: 7
Contracts: Fang & Talon ●●●●●, Fleeting Spring ●●●●●, Fleeting Summer ●●●, Fleeting Winter ●●●●●, Vainglory ●●●●●
Glamour: 20/7

Immortal Flesh: As one of the True Fae manifested in the mortal world, Sunset can shrug off some of the lesser slings and arrows of the mundane. Bashing damage does not affect Sunset at all, unless delivered by a cold iron bludgeon. Cold-forged iron causes aggravated damage, should someone be skilled enough to strike the creature with such.
Ruled by Passion: The True Fae are entities almost embodied by their passions and vices, with higher morality and self-denial little more than a whim to them. For them, passion is virtue, and the denial of passion an affectation. Their supernaturally amoral nature is reflected in an inverted ability to gain Willpower. Sunset regains one Willpower point from indulging his Virtue, but refreshes his whole pool when satiating his Vice.

The Whistler · 4:04am

The Board
The Honourable Corporation of the Ouroboros

Type: The Others
Changelings: J. T. Underwood, Miss Bell, Xerox

Virtue: Prudence. Adequate research must be conducted prior to any decision that may affect the outlook of The Firm.
Vice: Greed. All shall be productive. None shall produce.

Story:

--Excerpt--

CONTRACT OF EMPLOYMENT
STATEMENT OF TERMS AND CONDITIONS
OMNES SUNT EFFICIENS, NEMO PRODUCIT

The Honorable Corporation of the Ouroboros, hereinafter “The Firm,” hereby confirms the appointment of XXXXXXXX, hereinafter “The Employee.” This document outlines the Terms and Conditions that apply to the contract of The Employee, and other information which is relevant to his/her employment.

1. The date of commencement of this contract, and of The Employee’s continuous service with The Firm or its subsidiaries, is XXXXXXXX. This contract operates in perpetuity.

2. Base salary estimates are available from the Department of Human Resources, upon submission of Forms 3A, 6W, 270PS, 599-Supplemental and all Forms 10088.22 through Magenta 5. At the discretion of The Firm, a personal consultation may be deemed necessary before base salary estimates are made available. The Firm reserves the right, with appropriate notice, to decrease The Employee’s base salary estimate as the needs of The Firm may dictate.

3. The Employee’s working hours will be SEVEN HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE per week. The Firm may require The Employee to increase the number of his/her working hours if required on a temporary or permanent basis, should the needs of the position require it.

4. The Firm’s leave year runs from 16 June to the following 15 June. The Employee is entitled to ZERO days of leave per leave year, non-inclusive of statutory and local holidays. The Employee is entitled to ZERO minutes of leave per leave day. The Employee is entitled to ZERO seconds of leave per leave minute.

5. The Employee is obliged to give The Firm SEVENTEEN THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN weeks notice to terminate his/her contract of employment. Premature violation of these terms will be considered in breach of contract, and will result in The Employee’s immediate termination. The Firm and its officers are obliged to give the statutory minimum FOUR POINT TWO SECONDS of notice before terminating The Employee.

6. This position is subject to the completion of a SIX MONTH probationary period. At the end of this period, if The Employee’s performance is of a satisfactory standard, his/her appointment will be made permanent. Unsatisfactory employees will be subject to immediate termination. (c.f. Condition 5)

7. The Employee is expected to comply with the Company dress code at all times. Code-appropriate clothing is available from the Department of Procurement, Subdivision 6, upon submission of Forms 0001.11 through 88-Reversible. Some wait times may apply.

8. It is a provision of this contract that The Firm must be satisfied with The Employee’s medical fitness to carry out his/her duties, conditional upon a satisfactory assessment from the Department of Occupational Health. Should it be deemed necessary during the course of The Employee’s employment, he/she may be required to attend a medical examination or other related procedure from the Department of Occupational Health or the Department of Research and Development. Failure to attend this examination or procedure will be considered a breach of contract, and will be subject to disciplinary action.

9. The Employee is prohibited from smoking, sleeping, drinking, eating, leaving the premises of The Firm, or submitting Form 599-Supplemental on company time. The breach of any of these regulations will result in disciplinary action or termination, at the discretion of the Department of Human Resources. A complete list of prohibited behaviors, utterances, and metabolic processes is available from the Department of Archives, upon submission of Forms [REDACTED]. Some wait times may apply.

--End of Excerpt--

Background: The more stultified, bureaucratically overwrought, and fruitlessly busy mortal workplaces are, the more The Firm becomes narratively relevant to mortal society -- and thus, the more The Board increases in power. Correspondingly, the more inexorably soul-crushing mortal workplaces are, the likelier its employees are to quit in a huff and follow up on suspicious want ads. Thus, apart from conventional changeling recruitment, The Firm's main initiatives in the mortal world involve making mortal workplaces embody the above traits. Legislation is covertly lobbied into inconsequentiality; promising deals are somehow bogged down in red tape; clueless middle managers are elevated as if by chance to positions of unwarranted power; functional companies are reduced to grey, soulless hellholes by mysterious consultants, until one day their employees drive home "missing some vital spark." All this The Firm does, and more. It is important to note that The Board's aim is not economic ruin, but organizational gridlock: it is as likely to fund an ailing business as it is to sink one, if it's in the service of keeping the marketplace at a standstill.

Large, institutional, for-profit, and services-oriented corporations, as entities already somewhat in keeping with The Firm's governing philosophy, tend to be the most likely targets of their efforts. The financial sector is a particular target, as is the insurance industry. While seemingly an unconventional choice, some of the more pointless government departments are also prized -- there seems to be a certain unique strain of unfortunateness embodied in public sector work. While The Firm does not abhor innovation, it is, at heart, a conservative institution, and is deeply suspicious of new ideas until it is certain that they can be turned to its ends. Thus, it currently regards the Internet -- and the wave of creative, small-team startups it spawned -- as a rather suspect development. It is currently employing agents to ensure that it more closely resembles the recording industry circa 1962, only with more advertising and surveillance potential. Progress has been mixed.

Known Avatars and Agents

The customary manifestation of The Board -- five grey men in five black suits, speaking in unison -- is far too attention-grabbing to be of much use in the mortal world. The Board knows this, and prefers to delegate its external operations to its various servitors. The following are the two principal classes of employee that can be found outside The Firm's premises:

The Company Men:

The Board's most trusted direct reports, picked from the employment pool for their charisma, acuity, and unflinching loyalty. The Company Men are deployed wherever business sense, persuasion, deception, or other social talents are paramount -- generally on assignments involving mortals unaware of The Firm's true nature. They may operate as consultants for mortal businesses, spreading The Firm's "unique" organizational style; as political operatives, lobbying for The Firm's interests; as recruiters, tempting high-value mortal personnel into a contract and the Hedge with fabulous (fabricated) tales of The Firm's working environment; or in any number of other suitable roles.

There are exactly five Company Men at all times, one for each member of The Board; they are replaced as necessary. In person, they epitomize the ideal of the hard-charging, up-to-the-minute senior associate: clean-cut, power-suited, and equipped with all the latest accessories, while still radiating approachability, trustworthiness, and sales-rep charm. They, are, to a man, extremely convincing. While a reputed talent for disguise renders them difficult for escaped changelings to identify, it is also important to note that Company Men are not necessarily male -- though, given that the corporate culture at The Firm currently hovers somewhere around 1983, their demographic makeup is not exactly commensurate with present-day hiring practices.

The Department of Human Resources:

The Firm's in-house cadre of enforcers and secret police ranges in personality all the way from "sadistic and mostly cogent" to "sadistic and mostly deranged" to "sadistic and horrifying, Clarity One shell of a person." Justifiably feared within the premises of The Firm itself, HR also maintains a Retention subdivision to track down escaped employees or other Changelings within the mortal world. While HR members are a great deal less powerful individually than Company Men, The Board considers them more expendable: when a great deal of force is necessary, and the target is already aware of the threat that The Firm poses -- obviating the need for subtlety -- then they are sent out in swarms.

The Department of Human Resources, as noted, is not very subtle. Most often, they appear as pale, Stepfordian, deeply unsettling parodies of the protagonists in employee training videos, defaulting to The Firm's slightly anachronistic clothing and personal care milieu. Rictus smiles are common, as are monologues approximating an employee manual's "recommended team player behavior" section. When they are armed, it's with the sort of weapons you'd get if you locked Tony Stark in a Des Moines paper company's electronics supply room, instead of a terrorist training camp.

NeoTiamat · 4:59pm

Gao Hsien-Feng

Type: Changeling
Court: North
Seeming: Elemental
Kith: Waterborn
Born: 1478
Apparent Age: Mid-40s

Virtue: Faith Hsien believes implicitly in an orderly, well-reasoned universe. And if it doesn’t exist, well then it’s other people’s fault and he’ll just have to fix it.
Vice: Sloth Everything has to be just so, even if that means taking three times as long.

Background: For most of his mortal life, Gao Hsien-Feng was a customs official in the city of Guangzhou (called Shang-Sheng back then) in the Guangdong province, during the middle of the Ming Dynasty. He came from an old, respectable family, not fabulously wealthy but certainly well-off enough to ensure that the studious Hsien managed to make his way through the imperial examinations and then provide him with a comfortable sinecure inspecting cargo manifests and stamping papers. It wasn’t the most prestigious of appointments, but it was profitable, and it allowed Hsien to indulge his rather dangerous hobby – for Hsien was a political philosopher.

Had Hsien stuck to Confucius’s Analects, he probably would have been fine. But Hsien was one of those people who learned for the sake of learning, and as a customs official of a major port, he was able to procure political treatises from all over the world. Hsien was one of the few people in China as familiar with the Arthaśāstra of Chāṇakya and The Republic of Plato as he was with the works of Confucius, Mencius, and Mozi. Nor did Hsien limit himself to political works, dabbling in the natural sciences and in the arcane texts as well, plucking interesting books out of the great network of trade over which he presided.

Quite likely, Hsien would have lived out his life in comfortable obscurity, had it not been for the advent of the Portuguese to Guangzhou in 1514. Hsien watched dumbstruck as within a matter of years, the Portuguese and their big, ocean-going ships managed to secure a near-monopoly on trade coming out of Guangzhou. Hsien, who like most amateur students of politics had strong opinions, was mortally offended by this intrusion. So he gathered up his choicest books, took a leave of absence from his wife and his work, and went to Nanjing, the southern capital of the Ming Dynasty.

In all of the millennia-long history of China, the court of the Ming stands out as one of the most subtle and one of the most poisonous. Hsien was a worldly man – he was a customs official, people tried to cheat him on a daily basis – but the courtiers and eunuchs of Nanjing listened carefully to his suggestions for reforms and new regulations and decided that he ought to be removed. Over the course of one humiliating year, Hsien found himself fined for most of his wealth, accused of corruption, demoted to a petty magistrate, and banished to a nameless village in the northwest of China, thousands of miles from home with no one but illiterate peasants and Mongol raiders to keep him company. They made one mistake. They let him keep his books.

As well as being a philosopher, Hsien was something of a sorcerer. He was bright and he had access to a lot of books, and so it was only natural for him to start summoning his ancestors for consultation and drawing astrological charts of the heavens to determine the course of the future. But in that nameless village, Hsien’s magic took a darker turn. He started calling on more and more potent spirits, seeking a way to free China from what he saw as its corrupt leadership. Finally, Hsien invoked that which he could never put down -- the Great Crocodile-Dragon Jiaolong.

While a false-Hsien of wicker and stone lived his years in that silent village, the true Gao Hsien-Feng was taken to Jiaolong's underground palace. For seven years, Hsien was the lowliest of servants in that great palace of jade, cleaning the pools and caring for the hot springs that served for Jiaolong's comfort. For the next seven years, Hsien was a student of elder spirits, learning that they too had once been human but now were changed, all through the glory of Jiaolong. And for the final seven years, Hsien was a student of the mighty Dragon himself, discoursing on matters of the soul and the body, on the future of China and on the future of Hsien himself. And at the end of those twenty-one years, Jiaolong returned his apprentice to China.

Under the cover of darkness, Hsien returned to his home city of Guangzhou and formed a new secret society, the Fei Yu Dang (the Leaping Fish Society), out of his family and his close retainers. Jiaolong had explained matters most cogently. During these benighted times, the Great Crocodile-Dragon could return to China only briefly -- but if Hsien was willing to collect the proper materials, the scrolls and treasures and yes, people, that Jiaolong required, then the dragon's power would grow, and together they would rejuvenate China and rescue it from its tainted and corrupt leadership. But this would require a great deal of effort and a great deal of time, and so until then, Jiaolong bid that Hsien never die, nor would his chosen followers, the ones that were sent to Jiaolong's underground palace to be taught and transformed as Hsien himself was.

So, with sorcery and cult and the support of the Great Crocodile-Dragon, Hsien turned to his task. Unfortunately, Hsien was a better philosopher than a leader, being a perfectionist in matters of doctrine and an idealist with regards to politics. Jiaolong's aid, meanwhile, never seemed to be quite enough. Hsien's first effort to take power, a provincial rebellion in the late 1500s, ended in an absolute disaster. The peasants ignored him, the Ming cut down his few soldiers, and Hsien was forced to flee to the mountains with a few loyal retainers.

This would set the pattern for Hsien and the Fei Yu Dang for the subsequent centuries. Time and time again, Hsien would prepare for a glorious revolution that would save China. He would send gifts and servants to Jiaolong, searching the length and breadth of the world for things to strengthen the Great Crocodile-Dragon. Hsien would summon supernatural allies, suborn officials, gather weapons, prepare speeches, do all the things a proper revolutionary leader must do. And he would either be found out before time, or his uprising would fizzle, and Hsien would be forced to flee and rebuild.

It’s happened a bit less since Hsien’s many-times great-granddaughter, Gao Xiao-jie, took over day-to-day command of the Fei Yu Dang, but it still happens. Most recently, 1949 saw Hsien and the Fei Yu Dang forced to flee mainland China altogether to avoid being murdered by the Communists, and since that time they’ve been centered in Hong Kong.

Hsien is getting just a little bit desperate. At heart, he’s an idealistic man who truly, honestly believes that he knows best how China should be run, and that all the other leaders of China have been corrupt, murderous fools (to be fair, he may be onto something there). He strives to be a virtuous man, honorable and courteous and kind, but over the long centuries he’s been forced to make so many compromises… Hsien has stolen and kidnapped, killed soldiers who came to arrest him, has bargained with creatures from the foulest hells, has looked the other way as Xiao turns the Fei Yu Dang into just another criminal cartel.

After five hundred years, there simply aren’t very many lines that Hsien hasn’t crossed in order to achieve his goal. He hates it and he tries to avoid it, but Hsien’s idealism – and his sanity – are hanging by a slender thread indeed.

Not that anyone would know this from speaking to him. Hsien is a perfect gentleman, polite and self-effacing, a head-in-the-clouds scholar who seems completely harmless. He’s cripplingly shy, and relates better to ideas than to people, who exist as sort of airy intellectual constructs in his head that are much neater and more organized than actual people are. Really, he’s just very nice, and it’s only occasionally that people see just how far Hsien can go while shrouded in his air of abstraction.

Hsien is a small Chinese man in his middle-forties, with a neatly trimmed black beard and wide, open eyes of a peculiar brownish-green color. He’s a little on the chubby side from lack of movement, and he usually smiles at people in a nervous fashion that makes him quite endearing. He looks a bit like a mid-level bureaucrat, really. He still tries to wear Ming dynasty robes whenever he can get away with it (he believes it conveys the proper image of dignity and respect), though more and more often he finds himself stuffed into Western suits that his descendants give him.

To those whose sight can pierce the Mask, Hsien's skin takes on something of the aspect of a tortoise, serpent or toad, with a heavy, jade shell covered in depictions of the Celestial Court and the constellations, and greenish, wrinkled skin. His throat swells or expands when he speaks, rather like that of a frog, and his hands are very long and sinuous. He speaks with a forked tongue, and his eyes glow an eerie yellow color. The air about him smells like brackish, stagnant water, and tiny drips of quicksilver fall from his shell, poisoning the ground around him.

PMental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 4
SPhysical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
TSocial Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 2, Composure 4

PMental Skills: Academics (Philosophy) 4, Crafts 2, Investigation (Logic) 3, Medicine 3, Occult (Demonology) 4, Politics (Political Theory) 3, Science (Cyclone) 4
SPhysical Skills: Athletics 3, Stealth 4, Survival 2
TSocial Skills: Empathy 1, Expression 2, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 1, Socialize 1, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge 2

Merits: Cult

2+Fei Yu Dang

5, Dragon’s Tongue

Fei Yu Dang

1, Language (English, Cantonese Chinese, French; Native is Mandarin Chinese) 3, Meditative Mind 1, Status (Fei Yu Dang) 5
Lair: Fei Yu Dang Headquarters; Size 4, Security 4, Secrecy 5, Library (Demonology, Political Philosophy, Chinese History, Organized Crime) 4, Ritual Area (Summoning Demons) 2, Ritual Area (Divination) 2

Willpower: 8 (10)
Clarity: 0

Initiative: 6
Defense: 2
Health: 8
Speed: 10

NeoTiamat · 2:39am

Gao Xiao-jie

Type: Changeling
Court: West
Seeming: Ogre
Kith: Farwalker
Born: 1736
Apparent Age: Mid-20s

Virtue: Temperance Xiao has a very good sense of just where the brink is, and how not to step over it…
Vice: Gluttony …which means that she’s always dancing at the edge of the precipice.

Background: Xiao’s earliest memories are of fleeing Guangzhou as a seven-year-old girl, while her family’s estate, the compound of the Fei Yu Dang, was burned by Qing soldiers behind her, her parents still inside. Xiao spent most of her girlhood in the Nanling Mountains of southeastern China, herding goats while Grandfather Hsien tried to figure out what exactly had gone wrong with his latest abortive revolt. This was not an environment designed to inculcate in Xiao a respect for her elders.

By the time the Fei Yu Dang moved back to Guangzhou, Xiao had grown up into a vigorous, athletic, and thoroughly unfeminine young woman. Her relatives had tried to turn Xiao into a proper young lady, but she had a deplorable tendency to prefer clambering over mountainsides after lost goats over listening to Grandfather Hsien’s lectures on the correct ordering of the family.

Of course, she learned quite a few other things from Hsien-Feng instead. She learned the rudiments of conspiracy and sorcery, how to run a secret society, and how to navigate the hidden pathways of the world. To Xiao, this was all completely and utterly normal. Other people had family business and family traditions, didn’t they? Hers were simply a little more esoteric than most, and included a sojourn in the underground palace of the Great Crocodile-Dragon Jiaolong, where Xiao spent her days training with the greatest spirit-warriors that the dragon could gather. Nothing all that strange there.

Xiao was perhaps the most enthusiastic scion the Fei Yu Dang had produced in close to two hundred years. She took to the expansion of the secret society like a duck to water, because quite simply she enjoyed it. She found the lies, the seduction, the murder, the sorcery, quite simply exhilarating, and she loved every moment of it. And somehow, by the end of the 18th century, Xiao found herself running the entire conspiracy, master of the Fei Yu Dang in all but name.

It wasn’t like Xiao had planned it, really. But she was always enthusiastic and friendly and willing to lend a hand, and after a while people started coming to her for practical advice on how to handle cult matters. Similarly, being decidedly less squeamish than Hsien, Xiao had forged contacts with underworld of Guangzhou, and so when other members of the Fei Yu Dang had a problem, Xiao could often help. She knew which officials could be bribed, how one could earn some extra money, and when the Qing were going to do a sweep of the slums. One day, Xiao suddenly realized that even if she wasn’t the senior-most member of the Fei Yu Dang, even Jiaolong-blessed cultists twice her age were going to her for advice. They still sat for Hsien’s lectures, but they listened to Xiao.

Starting around 1820, then, Xiao began to take more direct control of the Fei Yu Dang. Her primary goal was to make it more stable, and to do so, she moved the cult into the underworld more fully, turning it into one of the fabled Triads of Chinese criminal society. She recruited other criminals into the organization, grew their numbers, and spread out to other cities. The core of each branch of the Fei Yu Dang remained the descendants of that handful of families that had been Gao’s earliest retainers and relatives (all much-intermarried by now), all of whom knew of the supernatural world and at least some of whom were sorcerers or Jiaolong-blessed in their own right, but who were now surrounded by networks of thugs, gangsters, and corrupt officials.

Today, the Fei Yu Dang is based out of Hong Kong, where the main branch of the Gao family has lived since the Communist victory in 1949. Other branches of the Leaping Fish Society are located in Guangzhou (the second largest) and London, with smaller branches in Shanghai, Macau, Phnom Penh, Bangkok, and San Francisco. Their core business is smuggling antiquities, moving precious objects (sometimes supernatural) out of China and Southeast Asia and selling them to various patrons around the world -- after sending the skim of their crop to Jiaolong in exchange for his continued favor. They’re also involved in the smuggling of opium – heroin nowadays – into China, and serve as occasional assassins for other crime groups. The Fei Yu Dang has a reputation at being very good at killing people (it helps to be supernatural monsters), and so other Triads, and the Japanese Yakuza, often subcontract hits out to them. The entire group consists of about a dozen people who are supernatural in some way, a further thirty or so who know of the supernatural, and several hundred footsoldiers who haven’t the faintest idea what’s going on. Xiao herself presides over this criminal network like a dark queen, letting Hsien believe that he is still in command but making all key decisions herself.

In some ways, Xiao hasn’t really grown up. She comes across as a vibrant, work-hard-play-hard personality, though she has a pragmatic (or rather, a ruthless) streak a mile wide. Most of the time, she treats her life as a game, one long competition where if you’re not having fun in the process, why bother? Yet unlike Grandfather Hsien, Xiao is not an idealist. Somebody has to do the actual hard work of keeping the Fei Yu Dang running, and somebody’s got to solve the problems if anything’s going to get done around here. And sometimes, those problems are people, and Xiao is quite willing to ‘solve’ them too.

Nor does Xiao share her grandfather’s goals. She listens politely to the political screeds of the Fei Yu Dang’s founder, but Xiao figures that the chance of Hsien becoming emperor of China are about equal to those of Chow Yun Fat, so she’s more interested in getting her hands on as much money, power, and influence as she can. The relationship between the two is complex. Xiao has little respect for her ancestor, having watched him fail time and time again, yet has a certain long-suffering affection for him born of almost three-hundred years of being together. Hsien, meanwhile, realizes the extent to which he has been usurped, and resents it, yet can’t quite shake the feeling that it’s really much nicer when someone else is doing all the grunt work and people leave him to his scholarship.

Somewhat peculiarly, Xiao-Jie also has a perfectly satisfactory relationship with their patron, the Great Crocodile-Dragon Jiaolong, probably because she's unusually efficient at delivering peculiar artifacts or interesting people to him. It's almost like the dragon doesn't care about liberating China from the Communists. Actually, Xiao's pretty sure that Jiaolong doesn't care, but this is something she has no interest in telling her honored ancestor.

Back when she was growing up, Xiao was a tall woman, though her five-foot-six height today leaves her at just a little over average height. She has a hard, muscular body, rather like that of an athlete, and she keeps her hair cropped short so that it can’t fall into her eyes. She has the manner of a predator about her, a sort of lazy, lethal tiger that might toy with you or might eat you at any moment. She usually prefers to wear black bodysuits that give her a distinctly futuristic appearance, or else a Western-style black suit, though in formal situations she dons a qipao.

Beneath the Mask, Xiao is covered in a strange medley of ghostly white tigerish fur (save that the stripes grow into arcane and unnatural symbols) and viciously hooked, plant-like thorns, while retractable claws appear on her fingers. The markings on her face are particularly elaborate, and seem to change each time one looks at them. In her full war-form, Xiao becomes an utterly enormous white tiger, with the same unnatural patterns to her fur.

PMental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 4, Resolve 3
SPhysical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3
TSocial Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 3, Composure 3

TMental Skills: Academics 2, Investigation 2, Medicine 1, Occult 1, Politics (Criminal) 4
PPhysical Skills: Athletics 4, Brawl (Claws) 4, Larceny 2, Stealth 3, Survival 3, Weaponry 2
SSocial Skills: Animal Ken 1, Empathy 3, Expression 1, Intimidation 3, Persuasion (Seduction) 3, Streetwise 4, Subterfuge (Impersonation) 3

Merits: Allies (Criminal) 6, Allies (Police) 4, Cult

2+Fei Yu Dang

5, Dragon’s Tongue

1+Fei Yu Dang

2, Fast Reflexes 2, Languages (English, Japanese, Vietnamese, Mandarin Chinese; Native is Cantonse Chinese) 4, Resources 6, Retainers (Fei Yu Dang Bodyguards x2) 4 each, Retainers (Triad Thugs x6) 2 each, Status (Fei Yu Dang) 5,
Lair: Xiao uses Hsien’s Lair

Willpower: 6
Clarity: 2

Initiative: 8
Defense: 3
Size: 5
Health: 8
Speed: 11