CtL Kith and Kin pdf

100 Chapter Three: Kiths They’re voids in spirit if not form, absorbing emotion and reflecting nothing back. Those who become Lethipomps used to feel too much: a buttoned-up banker went to scream rooms after work; an artist’s brushstrokes couldn’t relieve the pain. When they come back, they can’t recapture that. Revisiting the worst of Arcadia is like looking into the sea through a glass-bottomed boat. That’s how many escape: unable to remember fear, they simply walked out of Arcadia, knowing if they didn’t make it at least they wouldn’t die afraid. Lethipomps can remove emotions associated with a particular memory and draw it into themselves to feel one gorgeous, shattering moment of pain. A Lethipomp could make a splendid therapist, but most focus their energies on collecting horrible secrets, promising forgetfulness and making no mention of its cost. Even those who know oblivion’s price still find themselves drawn to a Lethipomp’s promises; sometimes, being free of guilt and sorrow is worth letting memories fade away. Darkling: Sometimes when they talk to you, it’s not clear that it’s really you they’re speaking to. They bring up old quarrels you never took part in, secrets locked with a key you don’t have. They’ve got the upper hand always. Sometimes you wonder if these memories were ever yours at all, or if the Lethipomp just wants you to spin, chasing the memory of the memory. Elemental: Her eyes are dark pools, rivers snaking through a forest of dead trees. Her voice is watery too, a well so deep you’ll never swim out. Her voice scares you, but her eyes — you could drown in those cold waters and never feel an ounce of regret. Kith Blessing: When a Lethipomp uses Empathy to guess a secret, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Waters of Lethe: By spending a Glamour point and making a contested Composure + Empathy + Wyrd roll, the Lethipomp may absorb the emotions associated with a target’s memory. They must already have an idea of what that memory is, and even if their target tries to keep part of it from them, the Lethipomp will still find out. The target suffers the Lethargic Condition (see p. 342 of Changeling: The Lost) for 24 hours. The Lethipomp suffers a Condition appropriate to the memory for 12 hours. During this time, they may Incite Bedlam (see p.110 in Changeling: The Lost), causing anyone within range to re-enact the absorbed memory. Lullescent “Can you hear me?” In one of the quiet, rugged valleys of Arcadia, nestled between two massive stone mountains, no living souls pass. A single stream trickles through the vivid green grass, interrupted only in the exact center of the valley, where it circles around a massive concrete block. One of its sides is flat. The other looks like an open mouth. Speaking into it, you’ll expect an echo, but there won’t be one. Instead, you’ll realize you haven’t heard the burbling of the stream or the gentle blowing of the grass since the moment you set foot in the valley. Lullescents are the inverse of the old adage that children should be seen and not heard. In Arcadia, that was often the case. The Keeper removes their ability to speak, then puts them to work as the ears of the Gentry. A Keeper with knowledge of human myth and a sense of irony might have transformed a Lullescent into a single lonely narcissus flower and hidden her in an enemy’s garden or made her into an acoustic mirror at which visitors might announce themselves. Lullescents spent their durance shouting to be heard before realizing there were more interesting things to listen to than themselves. Eavesdropping gave them the power to slip past their captors: when the Keeper wanted a report and gave back her voice, the Lullescent could use her knowledge to get out before her voice was gone again. Lullescents have sharp hearing that dips in and out of the ultrasonic and infrasonic ranges, and if one is in the freehold, it pays to be careful with your words. More than a few courtiers have been brought down by a Lullescent seeking to better his own position, or one with a grudge the courtier didn’t know they held. Beast: If you crossed a dog and a monkey, you’d get him: a light coating of gray fur covers him, with peach climbing up his throat; his ears are floppy, like a dog’s, and he always seems to be mid-shrug. His odd appearance wouldn’t draw the eye if he’d only stop smiling, like he’s just heard a really good joke at your expense. Darkling: The waif earns her place at the Winter Queen’s side as a lady’s maid. She’s been there throughout the Queen’s rise to power, a wispy little naif with dark eyes and a quiet tread. She follows the Queen like a shadow, and never makes a sound — except in private, humming the freehold’s secrets like a beloved lullaby. Kith Blessing: When the Lullescent uses Stealth to eavesdrop on a target, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Song of Silence: A Lullescent can use echolocation by spending a Glamour point. This allows them to measure distance, navigate, or find objects hidden from sight. A successful Wits + Occult + Wyrd roll also unveils objects and beings hidden by magic but requires a Clash of Wills if the concealer is still alive. Riddleseeker “Why did the chicken cross the Hedge? That wasn’t rhetorical. Pilar the Unlit, Infanta of the Salamander Court, reports that in 1815, Chickenfoot Charlie went into the Hedge…” Mortals have always sought to understand the world they can see in addition to the world they can’t. In thousands of years of human existence, this quest has never wavered, and when changelings fall into Arcadia, a land that whim reshapes and governs, the search for meaning takes new forms. Some Lost don’t ask too many questions when they come

Example Kiths 101 home, scared of the possibility, but Riddleseekers demand every answer — even to questions they haven’t yet asked. By some accounts, Riddleseekers are the original mythmakers. How did the Hunterheart get its spots? How did the briarwolves get those eerily human eyes? A Riddleseeker can tell you. It’s up to you whether you believe her or not. Riddleseekers share a tendency to hold knowledge hostage with the True Fae, thanks to their close relationships with their Keepers. One soothed her Keeper to sleep every night with a new riddle to puzzle over; another stood watch over treasure, posing would-be plunderers a riddle that only two beings knew the answer to. But eventually, in a land like Arcadia, questions run out of answers. In a place where novelty is currency, the promise that ignorance is death motivates many escapes, although some Riddleseekers must return to the mortal world when they can no longer capture their captor’s curiosity. Expelled Riddleseekers rarely tell the truth about how they came back, and the ones who escaped but are dying to go back won’t admit it either. In fact, most Riddleseekers want to return to Arcadia, if only briefly. Many steeped themselves in academics before their durance, and when they come back to the mortal world, dusty tomes in neglected libraries no longer scratch the same itch. Despite its horrors, despite the risk of recapture, Arcadia overflows with hidden meaning and answers to riddles not yet even formulated. They didn’t have enough time, enough freedom… Beast: Huge, feathered wings droop from her shoulders. While her head is human, her limbs end in paws, which themselves end in sharp gleaming claws. When she’s feeling friendly, she reminds you of a housecat, but cross her and you’ll realize she’s a lioness on the hunt. Darkling: He’s always muttering to himself, scratching at his arm. Red bumps rise and shift as he speaks, a Rosetta Stone of eerie hieroglyphs he claims to have seen in a book of his Keeper’s that had his own name on the cover. Kith Blessing: When the Riddleseeker uses Investigation to solve a riddle or a puzzle, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Neck Riddle: By spending a point of Glamour and making a successful Wits + Expression + Wyrd roll, the Riddleseeker persuades a target to resolve an argument, physical altercation, or other conflict with a riddle instead. If she poses a riddle that the target doesn’t know the answer to and cannot guess within three attempts, the target must let them go without pursuing the conflict again until after the scene ends. If players and the Storyteller wish to use dice to resolve whether or not the target can guess the answer, make the above roll contested by the target’s Wits + Investigation. Sideromancer “I can’t tell you when you’re going to die, but I can tell you that if you take that fork in the Hedge, it’s going to be much sooner than you imagined.” The stars rest for one bright moment, pausing in the shape of a cup. Yellowed teeth clatter out of a mouth and to the floor, dancing into a bad augury. Water sizzles gently as molten lead drips into it, twisting back and forth into shapes that only make sense to the expert eye. In Arcadia, the debate over divination becomes a moot point. The Wyrd governs it all: present, future, past. Even in the Hedge, time mangles itself, and changelings wise enough to pay attention become attuned to the ripples and shifts of the Wyrd. Sideromancers pay closer attention than the rest, and return to the mortal world having cast aside the caul over their eyes. Seeing the echoes of the Wyrd around them can become overwhelming fast, so each member of this kith chooses one specific method of divination to help them focus their newfound gifts. Many Sideromancers were interested in divination before their durance, but others were hardline skeptics who thought newspaper horoscopes were a scam. What they all shared was fear of an unknown future. The mortician had to talk herself out of a panic attack every time she thought about what comes after death. The pastor refused to acknowledge his own skepticism of Heaven. When Sideromancers cross out of Arcadia, they’ve found out there’s more possibility than they ever dared imagine. Still scared of making promises they’ll come to regret, now they can peek ahead and get a glimpse of certainty in a uncertain world — although they try not to think about the fact that neither the Wyrd nor the future are fixed. Seeing the road ahead by a little is better than seeing nothing at all. Isn’t it? Darkling: When they need comfort, they break into the local synagogue, open the Torah ark, and stand at the bimah, doing silent additions in their head. They ask a question, trace out a phrase with the yad. If it adds up to 18, they’re doing the right thing. If it adds up to 18, they’re going to stay one step ahead. Ogre: She reeks of meat, of flesh and innards, and her sharp nails are always stained a dark, rusty red. She stuffs her refrigerator with entrails: she’s got a standing deal with the local butcher. Others like her draw a crowd; watching the haruspex, though, turns stomachs inside-out. The worst part? She’s never wrong. Kith Blessing: When the Sideromancer uses a Specialty for divination with Occult, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Panomancy: Every Sideromancer cleaves to their own method of divination that mortals already believe works, such as rolling dice or fingerbones, laying out cards, or automatic writing. Using her chosen method, the Sideromancer predicts the outcome of making a promise or pledge, incurring a debt, or paying what she owes someone; she can’t predict outcomes to anything for which she is not a primary party. After spending a Glamour point, her player makes a Wits + Occult + Wyrd roll as an instant action taking at least five minutes. The Sideromancer’s player may ask the Storyteller

102 Chapter Three: Kiths yes/no questions equal to successes rolled pertaining to one of the above situations during the same scene as the promise, obligation or payment, but before it happens. If the changeling attempts to use it to predict events further into the future, her player’s roll counts as an automatic dramatic failure. Spiegelbild “I’m sick of this ‘fairest of them all’ crap! Go find an Artist and get them to paint your portrait if you’re that self-absorbed, don’t waste my time!” Mirrors should be flawless, perfect reflections, but they’re usually not. A mirror tells truths, often ones a viewer doesn’t want to see, showing you your swollen pimple, the poppyseed between your teeth that’s been there all day, the dark stain cheating on your wife left in your eyes. The mirror knows your secrets, and your reflection has no interest in hiding them from you — or from anybody else. Particularly not a Spiegelbild. Spiegelbilder are not mirror people, but they’re close cousins. They’re not Mirrorskins either, but the two kiths are like refractions of each other. A Keeper may have trapped a Spiegelbild in a mirror to serve as an advisor. While she was there, she made friends: with the creatures peeking in, with others stuck in the liminal space between Arcadian mirrors, with light itself. A Spiegelbild’s new friends might help her escape — though in Arcadia, everything has a cost. For many Spiegelbilder, that cost is telling a truth that may make their new friends feel much less generous. Spiegelbilder are bound by the twin pillars of reflection and refraction: telling the truth doesn’t mean you can’t emphasize some things and minimize others. Still, even the chattiest knows that some truths are better left untold. Before her durance, a Spiegelbild was likely in the business of truth and appearances, though this can range from investigative journalism to a nail technician gig. She was someone people spoke to in confidence, someone who had just the kind of face that made it seem okay to tell her anything — off-the-record, of course. The kind of person who becomes a Spiegelbild doesn’t keep secrets forever, though. She never did, and she probably never will. Darkling: She always seems to sneak up on you — even when you’re walking toward her, it’s impossible to make a good estimate of just how far away she is. And she stands too close, her grin too sunny as she leans down to your ear, sing-songing a lullaby of the violent secrets you’ve kept from everyone else. Fairest: Their ebony hair glitters like light reflecting off the sea, and their lips gleam as red as the ripest apple, the freshest blood. You see yourself reflected in the flat, knowing obsidian of their eyes. Your reflection changes, and your goosebumps rise, and those red, red lips smile, as if they can smell your sweat. Kith Blessing: When a Spiegelbild uses Persuasion to talk their way out of making a promise, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: By spending a point of Glamour and making a successful Wits + Composure roll, the

Example Kiths 103 Spiegelbild uses a reflective surface to enter mirror space. She can look through mirrors and hear what’s on the other side. Her face appears in the reflection, and the Wyrd binds her to tell the truth to anyone who asks the mirror a question. She can prevent her face from appearing with a successful Manipulation + Stealth + Wyrd roll, contested by Wits + Composure, but if someone senses her presence by other means or has other knowledge of her presence, they can still ask her questions. Breaking the mirror won’t force her out before the end of the scene, but she can no longer see out of it. Shield Kiths of the Shield contain those whose hearts resonate with ideals of protection and guarding. Not always physically imposing or deadly fighters, members of Shield kiths also pick up the pieces physically and mentally after conflict ends. Asclepian “The bad news is, I think I voided the warranty on your smartphone. Good news is, it was perfect for patching your skull fracture.” Arcadia can be a terrible, brutal place. Injuries happen and those who want to survive them learn to make do. Asclepians are clever healers, menders, and mad scientists. Some True Fae set out to make capable lab assistants for bizarre experiments on other changelings. Others need someone to tend favored servants and toys whenever they break. One of the newly Lost may become an Asclepian when she taps into a desperate need to heal someone, even herself. Trained mortal medical professionals are far less likely to make the transition into an Asclepian than those who aren’t bound by mundane ideas of standard medical practices, ethics, or even basic biology. It doesn’t matter what works or doesn’t work in the mortal world; an Asclepian might use a crown of flowers as a tourniquet. A battlefield transplant of a camera lens for an eye can save someone’s vision, and mystical chants or potions can heal the gravest of wounds. Even in Arcadia, Asclepians are rare and valued servants who are closely watched and constantly in demand. In changeling society, they are even more in demand. Freeholds, courts, and even powerful individuals frequently offer significant benefits in exchange for an oath of service. Wizened: The changeling has smooth green skin, a reed thin body, and androgynous features with inhumanly large eyes. Nictitating membranes flicker with every blink and their preferred grafts are tiny LEDs and other small electronics. Elemental: The broad-shouldered Elemental is as brightly colored as a rainbow eucalyptus tree with leafy hair. He keeps a pouch of various seed pods and buds to graft onto and plant inside his patients. Kith Blessing: An Asclepian’s player achieves an exceptional success on first aid Medicine rolls with three successes instead of five. Grafting: A simple touch from an Asclepian stabilizes a character’s injuries and prevents them from getting worse. By expending a point of Glamour and making a successful Intelligence + Medicine roll, she may perform field surgery with whatever tools she cobbles together. This process can heal injuries normally beyond healing, even if the patient technically died within the last scene. Scraps used for grafts should have some thematic connection to their purpose. A ribbon bound around the neck holds a severed head in place while the water pump ripped from the engine replaces a lung. A spark plug helps to repair someone’s damaged nervous system but serves less usefully for mending a broken wrist. Asclepians also find Grafting useful for resolving persistent physical Conditions. All grafts become permanent additions to the character’s physiology. While grafts made to changelings are simply hidden by the Mask, grafts made to mortals and other supernatural patients may garner considerable unwelcome attention. A patient may remove this type of graft by suffering lethal damage equal to the Asclepian’s Grafting roll; the persistent Condition immediately returns. Bridgeguard “You say I am surrounded; I say it is a target-rich environment.” Horatius defending the bridge, Samwise climbing Mount Doom, and Leonidas with his 300 at Thermopylae all built legends around their battles. True Fae love the heroic figure fighting against overwhelming odds. A Fae general crafts a Bridgeguard to serve as the rearguard of his army, sending him on seemingly hopeless quests to sow dragon’s teeth, or sending him deep into enemy territory as a lone assassin. The True Fae lure some of the Bridgeguard to Arcadia by promising to make them legends while others willingly volunteer themselves as a tribute to protect another. Their Keepers invariably choose Bridgeguards from mortals who faced perpetual challenge without breaking — Prize fighters refusing to stay down or a parent protecting their children at all cost shine with a spark of determination, rational or otherwise. It burns brightly enough to attract the attention of the Fae. The Fae hone and forge that spark through twisted and unfair challenges. Where a soldier might duel in an arena, the Keeper forces a nascent Bridgeguard to survive a gauntlet of grueling, repetitive, and overwhelming conflicts. The changeling reaches her physical and mental breaking points and then surpasses them. Regardless of the task, the odds are always stacked against the changeling until they revel in and overcome the challenge, becoming Bridgeguards in the process.

104 Chapter Three: Kiths Always outnumbered but never outmaneuvered, Bridgeguards compensate against unfavorable odds through preparation and planning. They have learned, painfully, how to pick their hill to die on and where to plant their feet and scream defiance at their enemies. They find every possible edge in circumstances, strategy, and planning. They control Clausewitz’s center of gravity, forcing confrontations to happen at the time and place of their choosing. Elemental: A generally affable woman, she gets along with just about everyone until someone stands in her way or threatens those she cares about. Then her pitted sandstone skin begins to crack as her molten core of lava spills forth. Fairest: His durance removed his rough edges, leaving only a smooth and polished exterior and an unflappable attitude. His skin gleams like polished gold armor and his ponytail waves like a bright plume of feathers. Kith Blessing: When the Bridgeguard uses Intimidation against multiple targets, her player achieves exceptional success with three successes instead of five. Against the Odds: When outnumbered by the enemy, the Bridgeguard can make a stand by spending a point of glamour and rolling Composure + Intimidation. On a successful roll she gains a bonus to her Defense equal to the successes rolled and her Defense is no longer reduced when applied against an attack. Librorum “You’ve got five seconds to find your library card before I chuck you out into the Thorns.” The True Fae love knowledge and secrets, choosing Librorum protectors and collectors of that valuable power. As guardians, they watch over libraries packed with books, whether free to roam the room or chained to the shelves. They stand outside a seer’s temple, preventing others from hearing her prophetic insight. Others serve as the True Fae’s acquisition, restoration, and preservation experts. If a piece of priceless knowledge goes missing or someone whispers a secret in her halls, the Librorum’s Keeper tasks him with ferreting it out and returning it to its rightful place. Mortals chosen specifically to become Librorum have distinctly mercenary and incurious natures. They did their jobs in the mortal world with no questions asked, even when it crossed a line. Others become Librorums of their own accord by protecting other changelings’ secrets or diligently guarding a motley’s escape plans from detection. Librorum most often find their path home to freedom amidst the very stacks and archives their Keeper assigned them to protect. They guarded the means of escape the entire time, and took other precious knowledge and secrets with them too. A Librorum’s escape constitutes a bitter loss for the True Fae, who tend vigorously pursue them. Beast: The lion’s deep rich golden blond hair and mane-like beard contrast with the dark green patina staining his neck, a thick ring marking where a collar once chained him. He’s quiet and watchful but hunger glitters in his eyes as he waits for an opportunity to pounce. Elemental: Fire set to guard the entrance of her keeper’s library but banned from entering, she went anyway. Now curling and smoldering pages form her skin; letters and words drift off her like smoke. Kith Blessing: When a Librorum’s player rolls In-

Example Kiths 105 timidation in the pursuit or protection of knowledge, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Stolen Knowledge: Once per chapter, a Librorum may spend a point of Glamour; her player rolls Intelligence + Occult + Wyrd as she meditates for a few moments — a round in an action sequence — to access the knowledge she stole from her keeper’s library. Any successes may be divided between the Library or Language Merits, or applied as a Repository, as she unlocks purloined knowledge from deep within her mind. Liminal “To be or not to be is the question, but would you please just leave the cat in the box alone?” Liminals are creatures of duality and transition, bound to the thresholds of Arcadia. These changelings are selected from mortals who cross cultural, gender and sexual, or physical boundaries only for one of the Fae to whisk them away between one step and the next. In their durance, Liminals act as guardians and advisers. Thresholds are places of power and the ways in and out of the realm are only one threshold. Many others exist. A Liminal is placed in a dark woods to test and advise heroes on their journey, fashioned into a complicated lock on a vault to keep everyone out, or simply placed at the front desk before a maze of nightmarish corporate corridors. Whatever their specific duties, Liminals all have a great deal of insider knowledge thanks to their position, and with it comes the power to help or hinder other changelings. Most changelings pass at least one Liminal when they make their escape, whether they recognize it or not. While some Liminals take their duties seriously, many more treat their duties with malicious compliance. Their status as creatures of thresholds means they see things a bit more clearly than most and even if they haven’t managed to escape themselves, they often twist their mandate to help others do so. A riddle-telling sphinx tells the simplest one it knows while the green man tending the realm’s border intentionally neglects to fill in a rabbit hole until he completes every other duty, giving others the chance to slip out. All crossroads are one, and Liminals use this knowledge to map the way out for others. In spite of being able to ease the way out for others, most Liminals are watched closely by their keepers and have little chance to escape while the threshold they guard still exists. Most who manage to escape are aided by other changelings who help pull them out of their in-between state and back to reality though their mien still marks their duality in some fashion. Elemental: The ends of their hair — that perfectly managed bundle of cables — occasionally spark and flicker with electricity where others cut them free from their Keeper’s system. The blue cyborg eyes of the former Realm firewall still burn brightly. Ogre: He once lived under a bridge and ate whomever crossed it but now the troll haunts the paths of the Dreaming Roads to protect his allies and family when danger threatens. Kith Blessing: When a Liminal uses Survival or Streetwise to navigate, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Line in the Sand: While standing upon a threshold, a Liminal makes a conditional declaration such as ‘No one may cross unless they answer this riddle,’ ‘No one with ill intent may enter,’ or ‘Pay the door fee if you want to come in.’ She spends a point of glamour and makes a Resolve + Intimidation + Wyrd roll, contested by Composure + Wyrd. The Line in the Sand doesn’t physically prevent anyone from crossing, but those who fail their resistance suffer the Lost Condition (Changeling the Lost p. 342) if they cross it without meeting the conditions. Reborn “Remade, reduced, reused, and recycled. How about just being repaired instead?” Perhaps originally a Playmate or Gristlegrinder, she became Reborn when her Keeper broke her. Whether intentionally, accidentally, or self-inflicted, the Gentry strip down broken changelings and rebuild their favorites into something new. Each forced reconstruction burned out everything unnecessary and weak. Often remade again and again, only individuals who find, seize, and hold fast to their core memories and sense of self survive the process with any humanity left in them. Even after falling from favor, being set aside, or getting killed and dumped at the Realm’s border, a Reborn lives again. After escaping Arcadia, the Reborn no longer returns from death, but she still carries a spark of creative power in her blood, capable of dredging up slivers of disjointed knowledge from her long durance. Reborn tend toward more measured reactions than other kiths; knowing the value of their blood, they attempt to avoid casual sacrifice of it or anyone else’s. The rare changelings who survive becoming Reborn come from any walk of life. They remain confident in themselves and their power even while facing the struggles of returning to the mortal world. Huntsmen eagerly seek Reborn, sent by True Fae who intentionally discard their servant but covet them again once the Reborn remakes her life. Beast: The tom’s favorite barber shapes his soft black fur into a precise haircut. His eyes glow bright yellow, but his raggedly torn ear and broken tail indicate he’s used up at least a couple of his nine lives. Wizened: Only tufts of hair remain upon her dirty grey skin. Tiny, neat stitches bind up old wounds; her newer scars don’t seem to bother her, but the stuffing seems to escape from around the duct tape holding her most recent wounds closed. Kith Blessing: The Reborn can still dredge up slivers of disjointed knowledge from her long durance in Arcadia. When she uses Occult to try and separate fact from fake, her player gains an exceptional success on three successes instead of five. Retune: The Reborn tap into the transformative power of their creation. When she spends a Glamour after taking a point of lethal damage — including self-inflicted wounds — the Reborn’s

106 Chapter Three: Kiths player may make an Intelligence + Occult roll and redistribute dots equal to her successes from one skill to another for the scene. This may not raise a Skill above the maximum for her Wyrd. Once per chapter she may spend a dot of Willpower and choose to redistribute the dots from one skill to another permanently. Stoneflesh “Wow, I’m sorry, did you just break your own hand trying to punch me? Here, let me show you how it’s done. “ A common kith, Stoneflesh come in infinite variety, from stone skinned trolls, bronze hounds, to armored knights on a bloody chess board, each one blessed with Arcadian toughness. The True Fae shape each one for durability and endurance, taking humans with a strong stubborn streak to forge into Stoneflesh. The sliver of hope dangled just out of their reach keeps most Stoneflesh going through the bleakest of Arcadian realms as their Keepers toughen them up. Once completely transformed, Stoneflesh in Arcadia make some of the most loyal guards and servants of the Gentry, who completely snuff out that tiny ray of hope in many. Others hold that spark close, nurturing it. When opportunity presents itself, the Stoneflesh becomes a juggernaut hurling herself towards freedom. Back in the mortal world, Stoneflesh often become pillars of their communities. They often evidence confidence and stubbornness, willing to plow through any obstacle between them and their goals. They saw horrors and atrocities and survived them: whatever the mortal world throws at them, they’re tough enough to weather it. Others become deeply calm and introspective leaders who strive for peace but back up the carrot they first offer their opponents with a really big stick. Elemental: Perfect and solid, granite made flesh: her every patient movement creates the impression of inevitability and purpose, like a solid stone rolling down the mountain, crushing anything careless enough to stand in its path. Beast: At first glance the old terrapin looks like a frail, easy mark, but he stands with relaxed confidence. The hexagonal keratinous plates, scarred and pitted by past battles, armor his wrinkled skin, each one still intact. Kith Blessing: When a Stoneflesh uses her physical presence for Intimidation, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Obdurate Skin: By spending a point of Glamour, Stoneflesh hardens her skin and steels her Resolve. Her player rolls Stamina + Athletics + Wyrd, dividing successes between Armor, Resolve, and Composure for the scene. Wisewitch “Don’t worry, I know just the thing to help with that problem you’re trying not to tell me about. It won’t cost you much at all. “ Little enrages the True Fae like a mortal thwarting their grand plans. Guessing the answer to one of their riddles correctly or slipping through a loophole is a challenge to their ego. Sometimes the Gentry will steal the mortal away anyway, intent on punishing them for their temerity. The Gentry only rarely shapes one of these clever souls into a Wisewitch. All it takes is for the changeling to have the Fae impress one of its Titles into her like a seal into wax. It doesn’t reduce the power of the Title itself, but the Wisewitch is indelibly marked as its own. More often a changeling learns to read the lines of power in the realm for herself and touches the influence of the Title to shape himself into the kith on his own without her keeper ever realizing it. Other changelings often have difficulty visually identifying a Wisewitch. Their appearance varies wildly but always contains some sort of physical mark left by their brush with the Title. They often gain great expertise in rare contracts and powers; Merits such as Arcadian Metabolism and Gentrified Bearing commonly occur within Wisewitches. In the past, mortals either revered Wisewitches as goddesses, or burned them as witches and shunned them as madmen. Today they commonly practice their magic openly as psychics, herbalists, shamans, or priests. Fairest: Still active in her local community, the ancient midwife looks out for her people. She delivered and served as godmother to nearly a dozen children on her block, and each one grew up happy, healthy, and successful. Ogre: His ears draw to a delicate point, poking out of long silk hair that grows supernaturally quickly, and a gentle stream of diffused sunshine always seems to find him. Beneath the grime of living rough, his only physical flaw is a burn scar directly over his heart shaped like a beetle. He spends his time tending a small patch of garden and telling tourist fortunes beneath a bridge for a few dollars. Kith Blessing: When a Wisewitch uses Persuasion to warn someone away from supernatural danger, three successes counts as an exceptional success Keen Bargains: The Wisewitch can form pledges with spirits and angels not of fae kind. Steed Kiths of Steed prize movement, travel, and the clarity which viewing things from a distance brings. Some also bond with creatures of motion, blurring distinctions between steed and rider. Airtouched “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” She lived in the wind and the rain, and while freedom makes her no longer subject to the whims of her Keeper’s stormfronts — the twisting, cursing face in the cumulonimbus clouds of his making — she often feels one step removed from her motley, like she can’t actually touch them. The wind brushes a thousand faces but if it settles, it dies. The wind doesn’t touch anyone, not really. Some people live their lives one step removed from others. Acquaintances, never friends. Bridesmaids, never brides. Quiet, unruffled existences. The Gentry find these

Example Kiths 107 individuals easy pickings, and a great number of them become Airtouched; drained of the rest of their immediate attachments, their Keepers craft them into fluffy clouds or distant, circling birds. The ache in the breast remains, however, an endless human need for connection, and those Airtouched who escape prove to the Fae that they cannot consistently sever even the most detached of humanity from their need for others. Conversely, some Gentry take a perverse pleasure in taking those individuals deeply rooted in their communities and cutting, one after another, the connections that made them human. Perhaps the most popular girl in class, or maybe the pastor’s wife who brought her famous hotdish to ailing parishioners: the glee of the Fae who make this variety of Airtouched comes from watching their new toys suffer and starve, adrift in Their skies and gasping for connection as a drowning man gasps for air. Beast: Summer’s heat boils off him when he cocks his head to the side sharply, and he hisses when angry, spreading his feathered arms wide in an eagle’s threat posture. His talon-sharp nails bite into his motley-mate’s arm when he clings to her, anchoring himself so he doesn’t drift away. Elemental: She spent a small eternity as the top of a mountain, battered by the wind with its thousand voices, a hundred people who lost their last vestiges of humanity and faded away into echoes upon echoes. Tall and solid, she doesn’t look like someone who can balance on a thread but living as a mountaintop means the experience of distance and teeth-rattling gusts as much as stone and snow. Kith Blessing: When the changeling’s player rolls Athletics to climb, jump, or move vertically in any other fashion, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. The Drift: By spending a Glamour, an Airtouched may invoke once more the distance bestowed on him by his Keeper: an infinitesimal distance exists between his feet and the ground beneath him. He may move across snow without breaking through the surface, scurry across the surface of water, or balance on other surfaces far too fragile to hold his full weight. Treat the Airtouched as though he weighed only a few ounces and penalize attempts to track him by his footprints by Wyrd divided by 2, rounded down to a minimum of 1. Chalomot “No — that way leads to the mirrors. You don’t want to get trapped between them. We go this way.” Chalomot move through the waking world perpetually distracted, their eyes distant and unfocused. Once their Gentry’s scouts on the Dreaming Roads, finding cracks in the Bastions of the strongest dreamers, they dug out information about the mortal world and crafted lures within the minds of sleepers. Helldivers may be the unparalleled generalists at moving between realms and realities, but Chalomot have fished more than one disoriented Helldiver out of the thorny morass that grows between Bastions. Fae don’t just traverse the waking realms; they sometimes require specialists for the highly particular task of luring in or manipulating dreamers. Many Chalomot were themselves once drawn in by another of their kith, their Bastions twisted and deformed by subtle degrees over a period of nights until the dreamer accepted a proffered bargain. The next morning, a fetch came down to coffee instead. Others stumble into the clutches of the Gentry through their own experimentation with lucid dreaming or attempts to gain psychic powers; some find themselves opened up to Their ministrations when a benevolent changeling assisted with untangling a problem in the mortal’s dreamscape. Once in Arcadia, the Fae slowly strip away the Chalomot’s sense of reality, subjecting her to repetitive dreams with subtle tweaks, something like repetitively running a video game’s first level until only pixelated logic makes sense. Kept captive by her Keeper with a chain of ivory and horn anchored to the bones of her wrist, the nascent Chalomot invades her first Bastion. Another, and then another, until she tears the chain free and flees through one of the Gates. Darkling: The monster under the bed, the shadow standing in the corner when sleep paralysis takes hold, he moves like a dark smear of ink on the world, a suggestion of a face rippling across an indistinct form. His Autumn Mantle smells of leaf must and cold petrichor; his voice carries a subtle half-second echo as though he speaks from the bottom of a deep well. Wizened: The strange never-written languages of a thousand dreams slide like living tattoos across their papery skin, unpublished scores of music chasing half-dreamed manuscripts. Their long, narrow fingers grip the ebony-headed cane they lean on in the real world, but in dreams use like a baton, conducting the sleeping landscape like a symphony only they hear. Kith Blessing: When gauging the strength of a Bastion, a Chalomot’s player counts three successes on Empathy rolls as an exceptional success. Click here to enter text.Dreamtread: By spending a point of Glamour, a Chalomot gains a bonus to her dreamweaving rolls equal to her Wyrd/2, rounded down to a minimum of 1, for the remainder of the scene. Chalomot may spend one additional Glamour point to share this blessing with another oneiromancer within the same Bastion, to a maximum of five fellow dreamweavers. Chevalier “Bucephalus, to me!” The relationship between human and steed goes back thousands of years: the Fae study the deep and abiding bond between a horse and his rider with fascination. Modern updates don’t diminish that bond in the least: a girl may love her motorcycle just as much as she adored the pony she rode

108 Chapter Three: Kiths one summer at camp. One Keeper lures in young people who obsess over horses by sending kelpies and each-uisge to lure them to Hedgeways near the water, creating a small army of valiant champions on aquatic steeds; when one of them breaks free, she remembers nothing but her beloved mount, irreplaceable and lost in the Thorns. Another of the Gentry places discreet ads in Autoweek and Car & Driver for the discerning gentleman who wishes to restore antique automobiles in the most refined of settings; respondents spend small eternities hammering their blood and tears into the steel roll cage of the Fae’s newest racecar. When one of the pair chained to the anvil accidentally crushes his own chest with the hammer press, the other swears on his comrade’s dying breath to steal the car and break free. Elemental: Wide chrome eyes without iris or pupil reflect streetlights as she prowls the bar district on her favorite hog, its body painted red as blood. Her hydraulic joints hiss when she moves and her heart pumps with a diesel engine’s two-stroke pound. Wizened: His weather-beaten skin smells and looks like his well-worn riding leathers, and the diminutive, silverhaired man doesn’t cut much of a figure on his own. Astride his Fae Mount, a panther with skin the color of spilled oil, he commands the attention of entire freeholds; many have followed him to war over the last two decades. Kith Blessing: Choose either Persuasion or Intimidation. When the Chevalier rides, drives, or pilots their steed — either one already belonging to them, or one they appropriated via Rider’s Call (see below) — achieving three successes when rolling the chosen Skill counts as an exceptional success. Rider’s Call: By spending a Glamour point, the Chevalier may touch a vehicle or mount and name it their Noble Steed. Any type of steed works, from a unicycle to a camel to a tank, as long as it’s a single mobile steed the changeling can ride or operate themselves. A Noble Steed can be the character’s own Fae Mount (Changeling, p. 113), though it still can’t persist outside the Hedge without the Actormask ability. It can also be a sapient steed as long as that character still qualifies as a vehicle or mount, such as a changeling transformed into a bicycle or a briarwolf on all fours; a motley-mate giving them a piggyback ride doesn’t count. Once the Chevalier has designated a Noble Steed, they may reflexively call that steed by spending another Glamour point. The steed hears the call no matter where it is, even in the Hedge or another realm, and rushes at its fastest natural speed to the changeling’s side if possible. It receives no special powers to do anything it normally couldn’t; a helicopter can’t dive beneath the ocean, nor can a mortal transformed into a mammoth open a Hedge Gate without its Key, and a horse tied to a post remains there. Sapient steeds may choose whether or not to respond, but they still hear the call no matter what. The Chevalier may only have one Noble Steed at a time, and can’t switch steeds until the end of the scene. Another Chevalier attempting to claim the same vehicle or mount as a Noble Steed prompts a Clash of Wills. Finally, whenever the Chevalier drops to 0 Willpower, gains a Clarity Condition, or suffers any wound penalties, the Noble Steed becomes immediately aware of its rider’s peril and the call takes effect as normal without any spent Glamour. Farwalker “Should only take us a day to get there if the trods run how I remember. They change a lot though, so plan on sleeping outside.” She walked the borders of her Keeper’s realm, forever on patrol, looking for breaks in the defenses. The illusion of freedom became freedom itself on the day when, on one of her endless loops, she found a crack in the painted-on horizon wide enough for her to fit through. These days, she leads her motley on long, ranging treks through the Hedge as they search for escapees to aid. Gentry usually select those with a predisposition to the outdoors to craft into Farwalkers, though this doesn’t hold universally true. Some Farwalkers simply come from backgrounds where they’re used to spending a lot of time alone; this can spring from a job as a night security guard, endlessly walking the same halls in a mostly abandoned mall, from a childhood as a latchkey kid, or from the mother to such a child, commuting hours every day to the job that keeps her family fed. The lure of the outdoors draws a devout hiker promised the trek of a lifetime by a tattered flyer plastered at the rock-climbing gym, but a job offer advancing the proposition of a huge raise with a slightly longer commute pulls in the career-minded executive. Beast: They carry their entire life on their sturdy back, pack and pans and tent all lashed against the shell they stole from their Keeper. Beady black crustacean eyes peer out from under beetled brows, and the hermit’s stringy black hair, forever damp, smells of the sea at low tide. Ogre: Six and a half feet tall with shoulders as broad as her easy, sharp-toothed smile, she patiently explains the difference — once again — between Yeti and Sasquatch while leading her motley along the winding trod. Her shaggy brown hair rustles like the pine forests of the Pacific Northwest, and her Winter Mantle smells like Portland’s December rains. Kith Blessing: When the Farwalker uses Survival to find or create temporary shelter or forage for food or water in any realm, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Home Away from Home: Farwalkers can make themselves at home literally anywhere they are. By spending a Glamour while in a wild place anywhere in the mundane world — desert, forest, tundra: the type of open, wild land doesn’t matter — the Farwalker may create a one-dot Safe Place for a day, large enough to comfortably sleep individuals equal to her Wyrd/2, rounded down to a minimum of 1. She may

Example Kiths 109 expand this by spending one Glamour for each additional person. If she has an existing Safe Place, substitute the rating of that Safe Place instead. While in the Hedge, use of this ability decreases the rating of the Hedge by one for an area of the same size as above—Thorns become the Hedge, a Hedge becomes a Trod, and a Trod behaves as a Hollow—and the character may confer one feature of his existing Hollow on the temporary shelter. A temporary shelter in what used to be the Thorns might not provide the greatest comfort, but a Farwalker whose home Hollow contains a Phantom Phone Booth could call for help. Of course, she might find herself the recipient of a few unwanted calls before the night runs its course. Flickerflash “They can’t take us back if they can’t catch us.” A swift-footed fox disappears back into the brambles, just a red blur at the corner of the eye. She rolls into her motley’s movie night with the scent of ozone roiling off her skin, laughing brilliantly as she screeches to a stop, the soles of her cheap sneakers literally melting under her feet from the friction between rubber and asphalt. The runaway child. The college student who burned her way from one project, one party, one girlfriend to the next, never able to settle. The young man who joined the Navy for the sole purpose of getting out of his hometown and seeing something, anything, more interesting than his Midwestern hometown’s dusty roads. Every Flickerflash carried in her heart a deep restlessness long before the Fae lured her through the Thorns or dragged her in screaming. The Gentry simply twisted that deep and endless longing for open vistas and the speed to cross them into an unquenchable need for movement. Gristlegrinders hunger for flesh; Flickerflashes hunger for speed. Flickerflashes often ran messages for the Gentry. Who, including the Flickerflash herself, can say with absolute certainty she won’t eventually return to Them with the messages she carries now? Many therefore get caught in obsessive and endless loops, proving themselves again and again to their motleys, their Freeholds, and themselves. He keeps careful track of how many of his diplomatic parcels averted wars, comparing them to how many lives her early warnings have saved. These numbers become statistical talismans, verifiable proof positive against loyalties not the Flickerflash’s own. Elemental: He spent his entire durance inside a video game, running level after level in a frantic effort to beat his last speedrun time. Now he carries messages for Summer and always runs first into danger. Dark eyes shudder and shift with glowing green ones and zeroes; his skin crackles with static and his face derezzes, glitching out whenever he laughs. Beast: She’ll admit before anyone that Autumn’s cold winds drive her ever faster, lupine claws digging into the earth

110 Chapter Three: Kiths when she races her motley-mates. Only those oathbound to her know that she dreads the day she’s not quick enough to save them, and that her dogged pursuit of ever-greater speeds springs from a desperate attempt to outrun her fear. Kith Blessing: When the Flickerflash uses Athletics during a chase in any realm, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Instantaneous Velocity: Flickerflash personify speed, achieving truly absurd and inhuman velocities. By reflexively spending a point of Glamour, a Flickerflash may triple her Speed. Apply Instantaneous Velocity before any other Speed modifiers. Levinquick “Take my hand. I’ll get us out. But you’ll have to trust me.” With the rise of the modern world, Gentry have accordingly adapted their toys; few kiths typify this as completely as the Levinquick. Electricity flows everywhere now, and so do they. They come, they go, they’re back, as distracted as a buzzing bolt of electricity. Levinquicks serve as scouts and couriers, especially in the hustle of the modern world that can be overwhelming to Lost who were taken in previous decades. Often, they served the same purposes during their durances, not that most Levinquick ever talk about the past: this moment and the future are all that matter. Constantly looking to the horizon, a Levinquick rarely stops moving; she knows that sitting still makes her vulnerable to recapture. Manic motion runs through their bodies even at rest; a sleeping Levinquick’s fingers and toes often twitch as if tapping keys or working a remote even while dreaming. The digital world’s restless children make perfect fodder for Levinquicks. Gentry pluck them from all walks of life; almost anyone raised with modern technology makes a good Levinquick. The best — and thus most likely to escape — carry an ineffable hunger for motion in their heart, never satisfied. They forever chase the next hit of dopamine from another like, another share, another conquest, another rescue. Fairest: Flickering cathode-ray dots define his face, and when angry, the color leaches from his cheeks, leaving him in all his true black-and-white glory. Summer’s scout pops in and out of danger, running himself dry until he collapses, now dependent on his motley-mates to drag him out for Glamour harvesting. Elemental: The edges of her hair crackle, and static electricity follows her everywhere. She doesn’t bother carrying a cell phone; they never last long in her pockets. Her mannerisms are as static as her touch isn’t, and the rest of her body buzzes with the energy hiding behind her unchanging face. Kith Blessing: When engaging in chase rolls within the BriarNet (the digital Hedge; see p. XX), a Levinquick’s player counts three successes on Computer rolls as an exceptional success. Lightning Walk: A Levinquick may touch a land-connected telecommunications device — a television, landline phone, or PA system works, and a cellphone will if it’s plugged into a wall to charge — spend 3 Glamour and roll Wits + Athletics + Wyrd. Upon success, the changeling dissolves into the electrical grid and, as an instant action, reconstitutes himself at another land-connected telecommunications device already known to him within (his Wyrd) miles: he could jump to the television in his apartment, but not the television in an enemy’s home that he’s never visited. A Levinquick may carry with him through the wires only that which fits inside his pockets and his closed hands. He may also bring companions with him for an expenditure of an extra Glamour per individual; attempting to drag an unwilling person with him triggers a Clash of Wills. Like any other form of kidnapping, Lost who drag an unwilling rider along on their electronic escapades may face not only a breaking point as they behave like one of the Gentry, but social and possibly formal consequences. The severity of the breaking point depends upon the context of the action, at the Storyteller’s discretion; a vast difference exists between pulling along a near-dead but unconsenting motleymate and a captured privateer. Swarmflight skitter. skitter. skitter. She tips her head back and honeybees pour from her mouth as she dissolves into a dark, twisting swarm that wisps away like a cloud borne aloft. A hundred jumping spiders skitter through the empty warehouse, perching on high beams to watch the meeting below, unseen and unheeded. Their lanky, androgynous body dissolves into pyreflies and drifts through the forest, casually mapping the path their motley will soon follow. Swarmflight defy easy cataloguing, the kith unified solely by the swarm itself. She comes out of the Thorns able to disassemble her body into a drift of pyreflies; he tumbles downward into a mischief of mice, scattering across the floor and hiding himself behind the refrigerator. Not every Swarmflight startles easily, but it can seem that way, since they often respond to stress by literally falling apart until the danger, perceived or real, passes. Beast: His fingernails shimmer like a beetle’s shell, an opalescent black and green but bright yellow where they crack. A handful of erratic gestures in humanoid skin, he tries his hardest not to buzz when he speaks. Darkling: She drifts through the world, appearing out of shadows just as easily as she dissolves into a handful of will-o-wisps. Her motley-mates know her happiest when she drifts along with and around them, watching the edges of their traveling party, and when she collapses into her slender, dark self in the Hedge, something’s invariably wrong. Kith Blessing: When the Swarmflight uses Stealth while in swarm form, achieving three successes counts as an

Example Kiths 111 exceptional success. Swarm Form: By spending a Glamour, the Swarmflight may dissolve her body into a swarm. A Swarmflight chooses a single swarm type appropriate to her seeming at character creation, comprised of Size 0 or Size 1 objects or animals. An appropriate object for a swarm both has some sort of independent motion and is easily visible to the unaided eye. Bubbles and will-o-wisps drift through the air and can be easily individually seen, while smoke or sand cannot. The Swarmflight perceives fully through the senses of any individual creature in the swarm, but the swarm acts as a single entity. The swarm may only spread over five yards or meters per dot of Wyrd the changeling possesses. Beyond that range, bubbles pop and spiders die. The swarm may move in any direction at the changeling’s Speed, modified for the creatures’ Size. The swarm limits visibility and hearing and causes panic in all those present. Everyone in the swarm’s area suffers the persistent Distracted Condition (Changeling, p. 336) until they get away. At the Storyteller’s discretion, a swarm may have other abilities or features suited to the swarm type. For example, will-o-wisps may provide faint light or lizards may have extra Speed for their Size. The swarm resists most harm. All damage from a single personal-scale attack is reduced to one point of the appropriate type, or two if the attack achieved exceptional success, unless the attack is made with an iron implement. Fire, explosions, and other large-scale or environmental threats cause normal harm to the swarm. A Swarmflight with an appropriate swarm form — rats, bats, spiders, etc. — may attack anyone within the area of her swarm with a single attack that deals lethal damage. Roll Strength + Brawl, ignoring Defense. Divide the damage however you wish between those within the swarm. Apply each victim’s armor normally. While in swarm form, a Swarmflight may use no Contracts that require speech, eye contact, or specific gestures. Swimmerskin “My sister and I, we are of the same water. It doesn’t matter which one of Them made us. We are the same.” Kuliltu. Rusalka. Jiaoren. Ningyo. Kelpie. Njuzu. Aycayia. Merrow. From the first known stories telling of Atargatis in Mesopotamia, who loved a mortal and accidentally drowned him, to the 11th-century carvings of women with fish tails on the pillars of Durham Castle, through the shark people mentioned in the Bowuzhi of the third century CE and Suvannamaccha the daughter of Ravana, mermaids and their aquatic kin have fascinated human storytellers through human history. The Fae make note of such stories and twist them to their own ends. Those who love the water always face peril for their adoration of the deep; whether dragged into cold Siberian rivers through cracked ice or lured into a riptide off the New Jersey coast, mermaids make more mermaids by enticing the unwary into the depths. Sometimes, a mere unfortunate becomes a Swimmerskin — someone who hates the water and always gets seasick, talked into a whale-watching trip and swept off the deck by an unexpected gale. When combining the caprices of Gentry and the sea, who knows what might happen? Beast: The kelpie’s ears swivel, always on guard, and his stringy, pale mane tangles at the sides of his face. His Winter Mantle carries the crash of the Irish Sea against massive boulders, and he smells like wet silt. Mottled, deep blue skin looks as though everyone views him as if looking up from the bottom of the River Liffey. Fairest: Dark curls forever salt-specked tumble around her shoulders; water lilies blossom in her hair. Her wide eyes without iris or pupil shift color with her mood, from Caribbean blue to brackish-dark, as changeable as the sea. When she laughs, her piranha-sharp teeth catch the light. Kith Blessing: When the Swimmerskin’s player rolls Brawl to grapple someone in the water or ambush someone from the water, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. The Selkie’s Skin: A Swimmerskin may always breathe both air and water, switching between them seamlessly. By spending a Glamour, she may fuse her legs into a tail, tentacles, or other aquatically appropriate lower appendages that allow her to move freely and swiftly in the water. She can swim at double speed and suffers no penalties for using weapons or performing complicated tasks underwater. This blessing may be revoked and dismissed reflexively. Sword Kiths of the Sword are sharp and keen. They have the frightful majesty of naked blades ready to be soaked in blood, or the deadliness of poison upon those same blades. Bearskin “You don’t know what loyalty is until you die for it so many times you lose track. True loyalty is giving up your self and surrendering to survival. No fleeting monarch will ever deserve my sword.” The Lost soldiers known as Bearskins share little common ground with mortal militaries. For one, the Gentry fill their standing armies exclusively with conscripts, pushed into service by forces they can’t fight back against. Their Keepers send Bearskins into endless war, breaking them down until they want to live, fight, and die for their Keeper. That emotional attachment is necessary, because the causes they fight for rarely warrant their deaths. For all the pointlessness of human wars, Arcadian objectives are worse: a single flower in a neighbor’s garden, maybe, or a golden apple on a tree that otherwise bears silver.

112 Chapter Three: Kiths Many Bearskins don’t realize they can escape until their Keeper rejects their loyalty or pushes them over a line they didn’t know existed. When they come home to find that it’s not home anymore, some wish they’d never left Arcadia, feeling like outcasts among outcasts. It’s the collateral damage of faerie wars: one changeling bound into service killed another’s dearest friend. Even knowing that the Fae left a Bearskin no choice, the mental scars linger, deeper and darker than the physical. A Bearskin with a cause fashions their whole self into its sword. The Fae didn’t intend them as defenders, crafting them to fight mindlessly, brutally, until they win or die. Sometimes they pick metaphorical battlefields: Bearskins make fierce criminal prosecutors willing to die on the hill of the accused’s guilt, or journalists obsessed with uncovering the truth even at the cost of their career. The listlessness they all share upon returning to the mortal world drives most to find an object of undying loyalty, for better or worse. A Bearskin’s liege needs not prove herself worthy of his service — she just needs to ask him to die for her cause. Elemental: A quiet, massive man made of clay, his taciturn nature drives people to try to get under his skin. He doesn’t respond — until someone questions his loyalty to the Summer King. The sun burns bright; his honor burns hotter; his fists burn fiercest of all. Wizened: They’re the definition of workaholic: the second they file their investigative piece on corruption within the local waste disposal company, they take off to interview a tipster about bribery at City Hall. They won’t stop until they scrub their city clean — and when that’s done, they just move on to another. Kith Blessing: Choose Intimidation or Weaponry at character creation. When the Bearskin uses the chosen Skill to defend a motley-mate’s Aspiration (not her own), achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Dulce et Decorum est: A Bearskin can rally other people to her chosen cause. Whenever her opponent surrenders in a violent conflict or she successfully intimidates or coerces someone into doing something, she may spend a Glamour point to replace one of the defeated opponent’s Aspirations with one of her own for the rest of the story. If the target hasn’t fulfilled it by story’s end, their original Aspiration replaces it again. Beastcaller “Come...sit...stay. There’s a good little goblin.” Mortal militaries have special relationships with animals, whether the horses of a cavalry, homing pigeons that carry messages across battlefields, or even domesticated animals serving as mascots. In Arcadia, armies field beastly hobgoblins, such as briarwolves and birds of omen, and those beasts are corralled by Beastcallers. These beasts are more intelligent and difficult to tame than their earthly counterparts, but Beastcallers possess a preternatural ability to win their obedience and loyalty. Before their abduction, Beastcallers might have worked jobs involving specialized animal training, working as zookeepers, lion tamers or military animal trainers. It’s just as likely that they had a strong bond with an exotic pet, or were involved in dog fighting. In Arcadia, this translated into their unusual connection with goblin beasts, and the Gentry took advantage. One of the hardest parts of escape was leaving behind a bonded beast, and sometimes the beast even followed their Beastcaller, loyal to the very last. Working with animals both mortal and fae helps soothe Arcadia’s trauma, but the closer the bond to a goblin beast, the harder it becomes for a Beastcaller to distinguish between one mind and another. To delineate self from beast, many Beastcallers come to view their beasts as disposable, knowing the goblin creatures can go into battle with abandon because the Beastcaller doesn’t die even if the beast does. The darkest side of this dynamic involves fighting rings, wherein two Beastcallers possess goblin beasts and fight to the death — of those bodies, not their own. The Beastcallers who engage in this unsavory practice try to hide their involvement, but these rings remain open secrets, bet on by hobgoblins and seedy Lost alike. Beast: A large, fluffy cat always tails her. They share some features: matted brown hair, wide pink eyes, a nick in the right ear. Courtiers learned the hard way to shut up when they see the cat, even when her bonded friend doesn’t accompany her: secrets told in front of the cat tend to make their way back. Elemental: At the front lines of every insurgency into Arcadia, they throw themselves into the battle with wild abandon — in the body of any goblin beast they can find, of course. The Gentry will never douse this flame, no matter how many beasts die in the line of fire. Kith Blessing: When making an Animal Ken roll to tame a goblin beast, three successes count as an exceptional success. Night Rider: By spending a point of Glamour and succeeding on a Charisma + Animal Ken + Wyrd roll, the changeling’s mind flows into a goblin beast’s body, overtaking its will. This possession lasts for a number of turns equal to the changeling’s Wyrd. The Beastcaller sustains one point of bashing damage for every point of lethal damage dealt to the beast, and one point of lethal damage for every point of aggravated damage. If the beast falls unconscious or dies while the changeling possesses it, the changeling returns to their own body with an additional point of aggravated damage. Cyclopean “C’mon, little ones. This way. I can smell their fear.” Fee, fi, fo, fum. Towering nightmares giants made flesh, Cyclopeans stomp and smash their way through daily life. Before the Gentry took them, members of this kith often felt like “too much” for those around them — too loud, too large, too opinionated. She may not have fit in with her peers, who saw her as unable to control herself. Alternately, she may

Example Kiths 113 have led a clique or other group too cowed by her muchness to do anything but trail along in her wake. Whatever her pre-Arcadian life, her Durance made her into something truly grand and terrifying. Cyclopeans in their mien often stand well over six feet tall, physically looking down upon even the most intimidating Draconics. Their Keepers fashioned some into caryatids holding up living temples, others became giant shepherds of golden-fleeced sheep. Armies of huge red-skinned oni clashed with gaggles of onelegged fachan for the Gentry’s amusement. A few Cyclopeans even remember, faintly, time spent as living cathedral-spires, though describing how the sensation of beings moving inside them usually distresses those Cyclopeans greatly. No matter how massive and awe-inspiring the Cyclopean, however, she carries her own pains. Almost every Cyclopean suffers some Persistent Condition affecting her mind or mobility. One of the aforementioned oni lost an arm, while the fachan sacrificed a leg for her incredible height. Scars crisscross Cyclopean skin, reminding her she must always be the biggest and strongest. Her muchness, once a problem, became the solution. In freeholds and motleys alike, the Cyclopean usually takes on the role of combatant or protector. Only a fool would cross a court monarch with an eight-foot-tall monolith of a bodyguard, after all. Some choose to take on the softer parts of their role — the shepherd, the builder, the tracker — but even so, freeholds often call upon Cyclopeans as frontline soldiers in any war their allies and loved ones fight. Beast: A huge Nemean lion of a woman, with shaggy, dirty blonde hair, one bright blue eye, and a lopsided smile, leads your motley onward. Occasionally, she pauses to sniff the air and reorient herself. She never fails to find who she’s looking for. Ogre: The freehold’s fastest messenger, no one remembers seeing him raise a hand in anger, but if he did, everyone knows he’d leave nothing of the assailant, stomping and kicking on his one good leg. Kith Blessing: When using Investigate to track down any fae creature other than a Huntsman, a Cyclopean’s player achieves exceptional success at three successes instead of five. Smell The Blood: Once per scene, a Cyclopean may spend a point of Glamour to learn their target’s weakest points, reducing all penalties for attacks to specified targets (Changeling, p. 184) by 2, to a minimum of −1. If such an attack would deal bashing damage, it deals lethal instead. Plaguesmith “Wash your hands, darling. You wouldn’t want to catch what I’ve got.” The True Fae could hardly resist taking lessons from plagues: not just how the Black Death slashed populations, but how humanity adapted disease as a weapon, contaminating water, tossing infected corpses into cities, risking their own lives to take others’. The first True Fae to deliberately

114 Chapter Three: Kiths Mass Trauma Events In March 2020, the entire world began a mass trauma event centered on a highly communicable deadly plague whose effects will continue to resonate for the next several years if not decades. The original Plaguesmith writeup predates the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic; the context for a kith whose touch transmits an extremely lethal disease shifted with the real circumstances in which everyone now finds themselves. Changeling’s framework explicitly deals with trauma and trauma responses, so Plaguesmith remains in Kith and Kin, with the following gentle reminder. Have an open and honest discussion with your table about whether including Plague- smiths in your chronicle will permit both play- ers and Storyteller to deal with this trauma productively or whether the group prefers to skip this kith entirely. No one owes anyone else at the table any further information if they don’t want to engage these themes. kidnap an infected human never regretted it; the abduction of that dying soul introduced a new, fascinating dimension to the wars of the Gentry. The True Fae do not treat their living biological weapons as carefully as humans now do, cavalierly sending them into war to mow down their fellow abductees. Not every Lost fashioned into a bioweapon knew what the Fae did to them. Sometimes the Gentry took them before they even had a fever, and their knowledge of their illness came by watching oily black boils rise on some poor test subject’s skin. A Plaguesmith returns to the mortal world acutely aware of her poisoned touch, and while she doesn’t necessarily withdraw from society because of it, she becomes extraordinarily choosy about who she interacts with, and how. A Plaguesmith does not spread disease if they do not so choose, but no matter their relative actual health, many become hypochondriacs upon their return to the mortal world. They share a fear that the diseases incubated by their bodies could turn on them, eating away their own insides or those of their loved ones. They remember the Gentry using them as unwilling weapons, and the trauma of destruction lingers like a cough. Elemental: Moist, warm air always hangs around the nurse — not like a sweet summer’s day, but like the cloying air of a windowless room packed with the sick and dying. She stretches a lot, complaining of stiffness. She complains about everything, in fact, and when called out on it, she blames her “sanguine temperament.” No one at the clinic advocates for patients better, though. Fairest: She always looks near-death in that way everyone finds utterly gorgeous. Her musical cough, pallor and rosy cheeks might have come right out of a Victorian portrait. People take pity on her, though she shares nothing like that era’s listless, fashionably sick girls. She doesn’t mind when people underestimate her strength — that’s how you win. Kith Blessing: When a Plaguesmith uses Medicine to treat an infectious disease, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. Plague of Arcadia: When the Plaguesmith touches a target, she may infect them with the Arcadian Plague by spending a Glamour point and making an instant Strength + Medicine + Wyrd roll, contested by the target’s Stamina + Wyrd. In mechanical terms, the target suffers from a grave disease (Changeling, p. 188), inflicting her with one point of aggravated damage every 12 hours. Stopping the disease’s progress requires successful resistance rolls equal to the Plaguesmith’s Wyrd, and successful recovery follows the rules for healing from aggravated damage. The symptoms are up to the Storyteller’s discretion, but should reflect something about the Plaguesmith’s Keeper’s Title, and may be more fantastical than any mortal disease. Examples include: • Rashes that look like oil slicks, and move, pop and change dimension on their own • Small “boils” that on closer examination appear to be tiny replicas of the target’s head • Tinnitus wherein the noise being perceived is the Plaguesmith’s voice, whispering cruelties • A chill that slowly turns the target to ice Razorhand “Don’t make me hurt you.” Once, a gardener in her Keeper’s realm, she assisted in shaping her Flowering fellows and cutting back Thorns encroaching upon her master’s perfect paradise. Eventually, she cut her way free, but even now when she stitches closed her beloved’s wounds, she tries to forget the feel of sap so much like blood on her fingers. She fought so hard to leave that all behind and become a healer. Every Razorhand begins as an overt continuation of the cycle of violence: not a one of them started this part of their life gently. The process of installing blades where there were once fingers invariably causes intense pain. Some react to the violence they suffered by embracing the brutality inherent in their new state; some eschew it and struggle with all their might against the thing the Fae did to them. Whether he slides into the pale gleam of a streetlight before cutting down a miscreant or deliberately eschews violence and instead carves elaborate and beautiful sculptures, a Razorhand never escapes the bloodshed built into his body.

Example Kiths 115 Often, Fae craft their Razorhands from the gentlest of souls; they find something perversely delightful in setting the most delicate of hearts with hands that cut those that get close to them and watching them first wail with fear and sadness, then grow calluses over their hearts, increasingly immune to their victims’ pleas. Others seek to capture the most vicious and mean-spirited of humanity and twist them even further. Fairest: She gilds her stiletto fingertips with gems and glitter, painting them with elaborate sigils. She’s an artist, darling, didn’t you know? Lounging across Summer’s throne, she flicks her right hand and her deadly, gorgeous nails extend in absent threat, every gesture fabulously sharp. Darkling: As Winter’s best assassin, the freehold sends him only when violence is the last remaining answer. He tries not to revel in the destruction he causes, holding his motley at arm’s length when he’d rather pull them close; he lives in secret terror of the damage he might accidentally cause. Kith Blessing: When attacking using her bladed hands, a Razorhand’s player counts three successes as an exceptional success. Sakin: By spending 1 point of Glamour, a Razorhand may transform one of her hands into a 1L knife for the scene; a second point of Glamour allows the Razorhand to transform her other hand as well, although she suffers the usual penalties for offhand attacks with her non-dominant blade-hand (Changeling, p. 184). This blessing may manifest as a single dagger, a pair of hedge clippers or giant scissors replacing her hand, or a long, thin blade extending from each of her fingertips in place of fingernails, but it functions as a single 1L knife regardless of cosmetics. Her strikes use Brawl and unarmed fighting styles. Unless someone literally removes her limbs, a Razorhand may never be disarmed. Sandharrowed “I love sand. It’s coarse and it gets everywhere. Once they meet me, they never forget me — you’ll be pouring me out of your shoes for weeks.” The lands beyond the Hedge come in a great many forms. Faerie is not home to just enchanted forests and haunted castles, but to vast stretches of howling desert among other things. While many deserts in the mortal world are mostly rock, Faerie deserts hew more closely to the popular image of vast sandy plains with mountainous dunes and rare oases dotted throughout. Dust storms thrash their way through realms like this, chasing down beings who are unlucky enough to be caught outside without shelter. Like anywhere else in Arcadia, the deserts are filled with wonder and terror, and it is here that the Sandharrowed spent their Durances. Before their time in Arcadia, the Sandharrowed usually existed as mortals who lived private lives but who people missed when they vanished. Not in big ways. No manhunts or national news coverage, but in terms of workflow and comforting presences. The administrator who sends out all the mail merges for the office, the head of the street-sweeping crew, the substitute teacher who always arrives on time, or the middle child who picks up the slack in family chores could all make excellent Sandharrowed. Their fetches, made of bits of shadow and fine-grain quartz, try to fill these roles, but cannot do so with the sand-blasted polish of their predecessors. In the vicious environment of Arcadia’s deserts, turned loose as nomads or dust devils, the Sandharrowed learned how to survive. They could run through windstorms without a scratch and needed very little water to remain hydrated and cool. Sandharrowed can thrive in almost any mortal environment, even those that kill other changelings. The sand they carry with them serves as a potent weapon, making them ideal scouts and warriors for their freeholds and motleys. Beast: He puts you in mind of a desert mouse, all earth tones and big round ears. On the surface, he seems harmless, scuttling from place to place on errands for the Autumn Court — but when he gets angry, his blistering wrath fills the room like a sandstorm. Elemental: Sand drips from everywhere on her person. Her hair, her pockets, and her shoes all trail thin lines of fine golden sand. Her hair forever ripples as if caught in a rough breeze, and her laugh washes over others, warm as a desert morning. Kith Blessing: When using Survival to get through an area affected by an environmental Tilt, the Sandharrowed’s player enjoys exceptional success at three successes instead of five. Enveloping Sands: A Sandharrowed can call the howling sands of the deserts of Faerie — from which the Fae crafted her — to her aid. Once per scene, when attacking an opponent with either Brawl or Weaponry, the Sandharrowed may spend one Glamour point before her player rolls the attack. If she succeeds, the target suffers the Immobilized Tilt (Changeling, p. 330) as a pillar of sand swirls out of the ground to trap them entirely. The pillar has Durability 2 and the target enjoys cover (Changeling, p. 186) while trapped inside. Valkyrie “I chose who lived and who died in the Aldaföðr’s battles because he forced me to pick victims and victors. Whether you live or die today is my choice.” Call them Valkyries or Morrígu, the Crows or Angels of the Battlefield. When Gentry play war games and set their toys against one another within their own realms, when those Fae caught in life-or-death struggles with others of their kind clash, they often employ choosers of the slain. Valkyries walk the battlefield, sword in hand or wings spread black against the sky, selecting those who rise again and

116 Chapter Three: Kiths those committed to the earth. Or, perhaps, those blessed to ascend to sit at the right hand of the gilded figure on the hill and those condemned to return to the blood-stained city. Valkyries tend to accumulate sigils and symbols of whatever mythos their Keeper adhered to, as much as they adhered to one at all; just as many Fae adopt a mishmash of symbols or make up their own tortured symbology. A Valkyrie trapped in eternal Ragnarök spits in the eye of the idea that her Keeper had anything to do with the runes and knotwork she now tattoos on her skin. The Fae tend to favor those with a deep and unshakeable sense of right and wrong when choosing Valkyries. They delight in perverting that sense of justice or watching a mortal with unimpeachable morals forced to choose between her survival and someone else’s over and over until she loses all sense of herself and takes up her sword willingly. Beast: Crow-dark eyes scan the horizon endlessly, always looking for threats. She tilts her head from one side to the other when she’s nervous, shedding black feathers when she tugs at her hair. Always one step behind and one to the left of her motley’s putative leader, she whispers encouragement into his ear. Fairest: Six feet tall and blue-eyed, the wide vowels and earnest words of her Minnesota accent disarm opponents as well as her motley-mate’s parrying. An ardent follower of Freya, she sets herself against both her Keeper’s twisting of her faith and the men who appropriated it while she was gone. Kith Blessing: Choose either Persuasion or Intimidation at character generation. When inspiring an ally (Persuasion) or intimidating a foe (Intimidation) on the battlefield, the Valkyrie’s player counts three successes on the chosen skill as an exceptional success. Chooser of the Slain: A Valkyrie may grant luck to her allies or levy misfortune upon her foes a number of times per scene equal to her Wyrd/2, rounded down. Spending 1 Glamour, the Valkyrie declares the recipient of her blessing or curse in a clear voice and rolls Wits + Occult + Wyrd, contested by Resolve + Wyrd; anyone she can perceive directly is fair game. Allies don’t have to contest if their players don’t want them to. A successful blessing grants the Valkyrie’s choice of Inspired or Steadfast; a successful curse inflicts her choice of Frightened or Reckless. Venombite “Step into my parlor — or, well, my apartment, anyway. I love that old poem, but who can afford a parlor in this economy?” Whether skittering in the shadows or strutting in full view and covered in bright colors, the sheer amount of toxin coursing through their blood binds all Venombites together. Biting a Venombite will not, in itself, lead to death, though that invasion of personal space does tend to annoy them. Not poisonous but venomous, Venombites take their name from their eponymous and incredibly dangerous bites. The Gentry show little discrimination when choosing humans to craft into Venombites. Everyone carries little resentments, words they never say to the people who hurt them, petty hatreds boiling in their stomachs like so much acid. A Venombite’s Durance takes these vicious, hidden feelings and distills them, turning them into Arcadian toxin. The changeling might spend her Durance as a pitohui, eating glittering poisonous beetles — harmless to her, but turning her feathers into deadly knives — or as a serpent with a long tail rattling ominously behind her. Kept as pets, sources of poison, or assassins, the Venombite’s Arcadian history winds down a long path of destruction and sabotage. That path often continues into the mortal world. Some have other roles within their freeholds and motleys, but many fulfill the same roles they did in Faerie: unleashing their purified and distilled inner toxicity on others, sometimes without provocation. Elemental: She smiles sharply, like jagged glass. Her hair always appears oiled with a dark, henna-like substance, and she rarely speaks above a whisper. When someone makes her smile fade, it almost guarantees no one will ever see that poor soul again. Wizened: He looks normal — far too normal, except for the dark eyes, the color of pokeberries and forest scorpions, and his small, sharp teeth, filed to razor points. Kith Blessing: When using Brawl to grapple a target, a Venombite’s player enjoys exceptional success at three successes instead of five. Deadly Bite: The True Fae take small hurts, pet peeves, and burning resentments inside a changeling and distill them into an odorless, colorless, and tasteless fluid meant to kill anything it targets. Once per scene, a Venombite may spend a point of Glamour before rolling a Brawl attack. If the attack succeeds, she injects her victim with her toxin in addition to the attack’s damage. The attack does lethal damage. In addition, the target suffers the Poisoned Tilt; consider Venombite toxin a grave poison. Additional Kiths Not all kiths reflect the influence of Regalia. They dwell in the cracks and between the faults of our classifications, yet their fractured splendor is no less than their cousins. Apoptosome “We’re all untidy heaps of scars and consequences, it’s just that I wear my memories on the outside.” They never saw their Keeper in full. Instead, they were trapped in empty fortresses, alone but for their own accumulated corpses. They drifted through endless halls, waging a solitary war against the trespassers who slipped in through tiny cracks in the walls. But each time an Apoptosome died, they rose anew. In a new body, but one identical to the corpse that they left. Misshapen by the blow that killed them, but stronger. Wise to the tricks of the next dead-eyed

Example Kiths 117 invader. And as they were killed over and over again, their body accumulated the memories of every cold and savage thing that struck them down. Apoptosomes often leave their durance feeling incomplete. Their Keepers left them fully to their own thoughts, with only the barest control over their actions. The Fae never obviously surveilled them, giving little sign of even acknowledging their presence. Apoptosomes often don’t escape their Keeper’s domain, instead expelled from that vast and unknowable body through cracks or mazes of wet caverns. No comprehensible Fae creature to hate and flee, no one to pursue you. And yet they survived not one, but thousands of reshaping attempts. Clearly something held them hostage, but what? The constant shifting impermanence of their bodies in Arcadia means that Apoptosomes tend to reach the other side with questionable boundaries. Some become confrontational; inclined to treat perceived disagreements as a prelude to new attacks, they go on the offensive before that attack has a chance to occur. Some become fragile; unable to identify their own boundaries, they fold themselves up into someone else’s and defend those instead. Darkling: Long tendrils of gauzy white film drift off a body taut with muscle and marked with cobwebs of silver scars. She vividly remembers the injuries that caused each of those scars, and a weakness of the one who struck the blow. Ogre: They look like they fight every day of their life. Permanently swollen eyes. Bones set slightly off-kilter. Skin the mottled purple-green-yellow of bruises both old and new, belying the solemn clarity of their voice when they describe the precise strengths of their hunters. Kith Blessing: An Apoptosome perfectly remembers progressions of fights they lose and gains an extra die on one roll per scene in subsequent physical or mental contests with that creature or person. Sparagmos: In a fight with a character who’s previously hurt them, the Apoptosome may spend a point of Glamour to deal one point of aggravated damage to that character. She may do this to more than one character. For the rest of that scene, both the changeling and those foes take an additional point of aggravated damage every time the returning enemies deal further damage to the Apoptosome. Becquerel [quiet, hissing footsteps down an empty hallway] When America dropped the first nuclear bombs at the end of World War II, the world fixated on a new kind of nightmare. The horrors of nuclear war permeated the dreams of everyone even peripherally involved with the Cold War, and beyond to the present day. Hundreds of movies, books, and television shows focus on the incredible destruction wrought by Fat Man, Little Boy, and their aftermath. The Doomsday Clock ticks ever closer to midnight, and politicians negotiate and re-negotiate treaties for nuclear weapons research and non-proliferation. Don’t think the Fae haven’t noticed. Beginning in 1944, nuclear energy rocketed down the trods and Dreaming Roads near Trinity, Lop Nur, and the Chagai Hills. Radiation poses no particular danger to the Gentry, moreso than any other blast of great force, but the arrival fascinated them. This fascination resulted in the Becquerels. A relatively new kith, Becquerels rise from the idea of nuclear radiation’s destructive power. Used as art pieces, poisoners, and assassins in Faerie, their shadowy forms suit their tasks, lending them stealth in low-light areas and making quite striking shadows on bare walls. Sometimes the Fae cut out their tongues or vocal cords to better showcase the Becquerels’ deathly shadow effect. Becquerels often utilize their blessing to burn their way out of captivity in a spectacular burst. Infused with the dreams of nuclear bursts and radioactive fallout, they tear through the Hedge, setting Thorns and denizens alike aflame with their rage and pain. Once out, they tend to settle down somewhat, but their touch remains poisonous. They make warm friends or blazing enemies, always glowing with passion. Darkling: Head-on, she looks like a person made of shadowy flesh, with two dark eyes glimmering in her head. Her voice is hoarse, like a burn victim’s. When you look at her out of the corner of your eye, you could swear she’s a twodimensional shadow. Ogre: Her skin is all cracked stone. She gives off the scent of burnt flesh and chlorine. Even though she’s huge, you cannot hear her coming until she’s right beside you. Kith Blessing: When using Stealth in low-light areas, a Becquerel’s player achieves an exceptional success at three instead of five. Nuclear Shadow: When she successfully grapples someone, a Bequerel may spend a point of Glamour to burn them as if she set them on fire. The Bequerel’s grapple burns an area on the target the size of a torch (Changeling, p. 191) with the heat of a candle. Her touch has no burning effect on inert objects and the burned area appears to all mundane medical scans like radiation burns rather than those inflicted by flame. Every turn she continues to maintain the grapple, she may inflict her choice of the Stunned or Poisoned Tilts. Blightbent “No, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to touch me either.” Shoulder-deep in cauldrons of ammonia every night. Creeping through the narrow furnace towers to clear microscopic defects. Sifting strange hot metals from the air with a net made of fine lead string. Trudging through eternal sour bogs to collect rotten buried treasures. Raking the calderas of smoking volcanoes for choice fragments of glass. The Blightbent toiled in the foulest smells and at the most nox-

118 Chapter Three: Kiths ious jobs Arcadia could offer. When made to perform tasks poison humans, they became poison to survive them. Their durance marks Blightbent changelings in a way causing great challenges for those wishing to reintegrate with mundane life. They spent years of their lives accumulating poison into their bodies, and after sleeping on the embers of a beehive coke oven every night, the smell of tar feels more natural and grounded than wildflowers. It doesn’t help that Blightbent so rarely achieve the satisfaction of an intentional escape. More commonly, they wake up abandoned some distance into the Hedge amid a pile of bodies and grass burnt away by lye. A sponge only absorbs so much mercury, and the Fae find throwing something stained or battered away much easier than repairing it for further use. Without making the choice to leave, many Blightbent stumble back across the Thorns, unprepared to return to the mortal world. The hair still wet with oily water, the poisonous dust of a munitions factory permanently glazing their skin, the lingering scent of gasoline on their breath; all signs of a durance they never fully escaped. While commonly thought of as a kith created by the industrial age, the history of the Blightbent runs as far back into history as the poisonous earth they handle. The technology they remember hitches a ride into Arcadia in their heads, influencing successive generations of monstrous Fae designs. Occasionally, innovations hitch their way back out. A Blightbent engineer who spent their days and nights in the hearts of strange machines applies that intimate understanding to their own creations. Wizened: No matter how hard she scrubs, the coal dust never washes off her skin. Embedded in every pore and surface imperfection, constantly drifting loose from her eyelashes and the skin beneath her fingernails. Everything she owns is dirty now. Fairest: From a distance, his skin is dazzling — delicately cut golden crystal, faintly glowing in the sunlight. But when he moves, a wave of stench roils around him: rotten eggs and insecticide and skunks. Stand around in the heat and he’s liable to make bystanders vomit. Kith Blessing: When a Blightbent makes a Stamina + Resolve roll to mitigate damage from diseases and poisons, they automatically downgrade aggravated damage to lethal, lethal damage to bashing, or ignore bashing damage. Brimstone: The Blightbent’s touch scalds and scars. Whenever they successfully grapple someone, their player may spend one Glamour point to inflict the Poisoned Tilt. Enkrateia “Comtesse, please reconsider that sentiment. The Seventh Cinder Forest Daughter describes a very equitable bargain and refusing a truce this generous following a victory so resounding would display… great imprudence.”

Example Kiths 119 Most Keepers lack the interest or motivation to provide their own neutral analysis of the events they steer around themselves. Some choose to create a “better angel” to offer them advice. Captured for their quick wits and practical minds, Enkrateia served as advisors, mediators, and judges in liminal places. The literal voice of reason in the ear of their Keeper, the Gentry acknowledged the voices of Enkrateia at their whim. Delicately formed silver statues stood rooted in an empty glen, eternally brokering peace between warring siblings. A fang-toothed giant pronounced Fae justice to an inky Notary for crimes like failing to interest her Keeper. A captive glass songbird chirped subtle advice from within a gilded cage. The Gentry prize Enkrateia too greatly for the changelings to escape imprisonment easily, but quixotic Fae attend too little to these pets for them to remain a constant presence in Arcadia. An unlucky advisor finds herself so disregarded that she begins to grow as invisible as she feels. The heightened emotions of freeholds often override people’s better natures, and here the Enkrateia excel upon their return to the mortal world. Fairest: A sleek, winged boy with timepieces for eyes and nimble fingers; his voice soft and placating, which once promised blood by morning. Elemental: Once the lightning crown resting heavy on a wounded king’s brow, they echoed the memories he recited to them. Kith Blessing: When attempting to calm a conflict, roll the highest of: Empathy, Persuasion, or Subterfuge. Eloquent Analysis: When the Ekrateia takes an extended action to Investigate, her player only begins to lose dice after the 3rd successive roll. Gravewight “The air is always thick with ghosts. Lonely ghosts who want a friendly ear, hungry ghosts who want to plug a gap in themselves, newborn ghosts still fresh from the traumas of death. But just because you can hear them doesn’t mean you can help them.” The Gravewights know that Death patiently walks in our footsteps and takekhat knowledge bodily into themselves. Each experienced death as a constant companion, stolen away to perform executions, funerary rites, or other services in chthonic places. No two are quite alike, their circumstances born out of individual experiences with the harrowing and capricious nature of death in Arcadia. Some sickened, and rather than allow them to die their Keepers placed upon them the mask of red death. Some wasted away as completely as the dry bones they exhumed and prepared for display in vast catacombs. A man-shaped pile of rotten meat guarded an abattoir. A grim-faced ghostly angel dredged battlefields for those fragments of souls that were still clinging to their swords. Not necessarily morbid nor universally sepulchral in temperament, Gravewights hope just as well as any other changeling, finding new resolve in their return to mundane life. They easily become cavalier about deaths, however, including their own. Maybe familiarity breeds contempt, or maybe Gravewights long to complete a death arriving in slow motion ever since they walked into Arcadia. More often than any other servant class of changeling, therefore, they simply throw down their shovels and walk out into old woods filled with the threat of Huntsmen. One might not look closely for the corpse-like gravedigger, once nested amid the grave dirt, until bodies begin to stack up like corded wood. Hearing the Huntsman’s horn means that Gravewights lay close enough to their Keeper’s hearts to really hurt them. Wizened: Her desiccated and brittle skin cracks when she moves, her dry touch gentle when she eases the spine of a man nearly as old as herself into place in her meticulously designed mosaic. She can’t bring a lantern here lest someone see her, but her eyes glow with lambent blue flame and she walks in the night easily as day. Beast: They walked the wild trods in the skin of a shaggy black hound, running down such goblins and changelings as had the misfortune to be out alone late at night, dragging captives into their endless underground dens. Kith Blessing: Choose Empathy or Intimidation at character generation. When attempting to influence someone with her mien, physical presence, or knowledge of the mechanics of death, the Gravewight’s player achieves an exceptional success at three successes instead of five. Charnel Sight: The Gravewight’s presence serves a beacon to ghosts and other creatures caught between life and death. Whether the fulfillment of some destiny, an intellectual affinity, or her Wyrd simply calling out to them, ghosts appear more frequently near her, manifesting more normally and more completely. Spend one Glamour to see and hear ghosts lingering in Twilight. Shadowsoul “Mine is never again the rosy dawn, or heat of summer’s day. Instead, I must creep around with the other night animals, hunting one another in the dewy chill. He took the light from me and expected me to thank him for it.” Cousins to both Bright One and Gravewight, the Fae crafted Shadowsouls into beautiful or decorative creatures, intertwined with (and styled to the aesthetic preferences of) chthonic or celestial Keepers. These evening stars, distant and cloaked in silence, forsake the sun. Torn asunder and recreated as their own dark doppelganger or barricaded into a damp cave for a thousand years to grow a new and pliable crystal body, they survive, their clarity marred by a faint pink tint at the gem’s heart. A black doe queen flees, hunted nightly by her fox king and his many brothers. A living shadow, soft and barely substantial, lies pressed to any surface that supports him, falling away from the light. Not inherently more or less dangerous than any other Keeper, nocturnal Gentry embrace more fully the inherent

120 Chapter Three: Kiths cold disinterest of Fae emotional expression. They keep their changelings tightly bound, heavily guarded, and struck with frailties tied to the daylight hours. A Shadowsoul escapee took a long, dangerous road out of Arcadia — never able to move faster than the traversal of the moon, their Keeper stalking their footsteps, threatening to blot out the night and bake them in the perpetual sunlight. Elemental: Wrapped in midnight blue and speckled white as the starry sky, you can see constellations and distant nebulae move across her skin with the rotation of the earth. Fairest: His skin and eyes are bleached so luminous and pale that he cannot bear the sun, but in moonlight he glows as though lit from within. Kith Blessing: Shadowsouls gain a bonus to mundane Subterfuge rolls equal to her Wyrd and the 8-again rule on those rolls. Nightblind: Shadowsouls have a natural affinity with the Mirror Regalia in addition to any other affinities. Once per scene, on an exceptional attack success, the Shadowsoul may inflict a temporary Blindness Condition on someone she touches. The Condition resolves at the end of the scene. Telluric “No, not that way, this way! It’s like you’ve never read a map before!” Not all changelings live among the True Fae, walking the same paths they do, drinking their wine, and eating their bread. Some are set above them in orbit, dancing strange paths throughout the even stranger skies of Faerie. Isolated from everyone but each other, the Tellurics become the stars of Arcadia, drifting through different demesnes, always changing. Some other Lost begrudge the Tellurics, saying that they had the easy road out. After all, they were so lofty and far above everyone else, they could have just walked out. No one would have stopped them. To a certain extent this is true; the Tellurics knew the silver-and-gold paths better than anyone else. There was no gate keeping them in, no chains on their ankles. Why did they stay long enough to become Lost? Tellurics were all lonely, orphaned planets to some extent before they were taken. Black sheep of their families, agoraphobics, chronically-ill people, people dealing with grief — anyone who was isolated in some way makes a good Telluric. The Gentry take them in their dreams, or lure them into Arcadia with the promise of beauty and attention. It’s not a lie, not at all. The Tellurics are set in the heavens and shine with the glow of a thousand different stars and planets. Some burn with the fire of Mars, others with the blue-white radiance of Sirius, and a few with the multicolored tails of comets. Everyone in Faerie sees the Tellurics as they tread their pathways — but no one speaks to them save other Tellurics, and even then, rarely. Some Tellurics accept this. Escaped Tellurics tell sad stories about their fellows whose bodies were entirely consumed by the fires of their own perfection and fell to the forests of Arcadia as shooting stars. Perhaps they died, perhaps they became True Fae in their own right, perhaps something stranger happened. No one really knows, but every Telluric has a story about a friend they saw fall. Those who do escape find themselves both craving attention and avoiding it as much as possible. Tellurics are used to being seen as perfect and unattainable, and genuine connection is extremely difficult for them. They constantly apologize and castigate themselves for anything they perceive as a flaw and occasionally break off relationships of any kind to avoid hurting others. However, they make excellent couriers, spies, getaway drivers, and anything that involves a great deal of travel. Elemental: Her veins shine in her skin, shot through with glimmering quicksilver. The freehold’s best driver, she always plays classical music as she drives. She rarely smiles, but her teeth shine like pearlescent moons when she does. Fairest: Known for his tempestuous relationships and the fact that his hair seems to move without any wind, this Spring courtier always dresses to show off his red features to their best advantage — red eyes, red hair, red freckles sparkling across the bridge of his nose. Kith Blessing: When the Telluric chases someone with Drive or Streetwise, on a clear night when she can see the stars above her, her player achieves an exceptional success with three successes instead of five. Burn Bright: Tellurics can wield the power of falling stars. For one Glamour point, the Telluric may throw a ball of starflame as a ranged attack using Dexterity + Athletics. The fire is torch-sized and has the heat of a candle (see Changeling 2e, p.190). Whisperwisp “Why no, I hadn’t heard at all! And so many people involved in covering it up. Why don’t we go somewhere a little more out of the way and you can tell me everything?” Whisperwisps were built to be spies and saboteurs. Constantly cataloging the habits of others, listening for their most intimate secrets, punctuated by grueling interrogations and mock trials. It’s no wonder most are cold and a little amoral; even this side of the Hedge they can’t quite shake off the desire to lie reflexively, concealing even what might be better to share. As all Lost, of course, they might take nearly any seeming: small creatures that creep along the walls and through the grasses; willowy and androgynous honey traps, flattering and flirting; or quick, tense locksmiths tearing through layer after layer of physical security, listening to the radio chatter and bathroom gossip of a dozen carefully placed bugs. Some Whisperwisps choose to spy for a court or other individual changelings, but nearly all Whisperwisps stay

Example Kiths 121 apart on some level, ready to break away and fade back into the shadows at the first sign of personal danger. Darkling: He’s as long and slender as the shadow cast by a cracked door, fingernails as jagged as lockpicks, but with a face that eyes slide off of. Fairest: Once a stern reporter, a certain clinical quality entered her voice when she returned. Remote as a mountain, her lips twitch slightly in disgust with every new falsehood she uncovers. Kith Blessing: When attempting to influence someone with a known falsehood, achieving three successes counts as an exceptional success. When attempting to influence someone with the truth, five successes counts as an exceptional success. Forked Tongue: Choose one of Stealth or Persuasion at character generation. Mundane rolls made with the chosen skill gain both the 9-again rule and a bonus to equal to the Whisperwisp’s Wyrd.

Motleys in Lost Chronicles 123 There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard. There are not more than five primary colors, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever been seen. There are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet combinations of them yield more flavors than can ever be tasted. — Sun Tzu, The Art of War Suspicion comes easily to changelings, that state of constant vigilance justified because the Gentry really are out to get them. Many changelings struggle with the urge to keep others at arm’s length, to surround themselves with thorns lest others betray their faith. Self-imposed insularity poses dangers, though. One set of eyes can’t watch all the approaches. One mind can’t cover all of a plan’s potential flaws. One frame of reference too easily slips away from lucidity and into the blurring of imagination and reality. One heart struggles to comfort itself, when unrelenting nightmares and painful isolation play partners. So changelings turn to one another for help, finding strength through community. They overcome mistrust through carefully woven threads of pledge and honor. They reinforce camaraderie through shared experiences and mutual gain. Some go a step further, drawing mortals or other creatures of the shadows into their circles of trust. The suspicion never entirely ebbs. The tension never quite fades. But through working together, the Lost might find sanctuary and find themselves. Motleys in Lost Chronicles The building blocks of changeling society, motleys and their attendant pledgecrafting create threads binding the Lost together. The Wyrd’s power tames some of the capriciousness and fear of changeling existence, giving the Lost an opportunity to work together in shared trust or purpose. Motleys also perform an important role in the game for players and Storytellers. The motley usually serves as characters’ justification for gathering in a group without collapsing into infighting or going their separate ways. A tool of convenience at the storytelling level, motleys permit the narrative to focus on the sort of story the group wants to experience together. Changeling: The Lost Second Edition briefly touches on motleys, establishing the notion that the players’ changelings likely all belong to one. This section goes into motley creation in greater depth, provides several sample motley oaths, and presents a new system for handling internal conflict within a motley in a constructive way. Making a Motley For some chronicles, motleys remain a background element. The glue that binds groups of changelings together, motleys require no further attention, permitting other narrative or game elements to take the limelight. This sort of play assumes the changelings in the motley are friends, or at least have each other’s backs when the chips are down. If the Storyteller and players don’t wish to delve into the background or implications of motley ties or interactions, this lets the whole group get right on with play.

124 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather Focusing on the background and origins of this shared pledge, however, turns the motley itself into a compelling story element. More than just an excuse to keep the characters together, a fleshed-out motley helps shape the aims and actions of the member changelings. Mutual history and detail build the motley into something like a character in its own right, a shared experience that might outlive individual motley-mates when Huntsmen come calling. Pledged Together The work of pledgecraft, Motleys spring from the power of the Wyrd tying a ragged band of changelings together in accordance with a sworn oath. Often, the Lost use this power to create motleys as a replacement for the family and friendships lost through their durance. Motleys can serve as any sort of close network or alliance where trust in a mutual cause is key, but an underlying level of genuine closeness separates a motley from another form of societal oath. A changeling swearing into a motley gains no immediate knowledge of her new motley-mates from the Wyrd. She might also belong to more than one motley simultaneously, although oath wording may make maintaining this a tricky juggling act. However, oaths are lifelong things, not acts of passing fancy. Motleys don’t gather lightly; they form around strong bonds of hard-won trust with no backing out a few years down the line when a changeling decides that she doesn’t much care for a clause forbidding her to harm a motley-mate she came to despise. As such, scrupulous attention behooves any of the Lost when knowing exactly who she embraces as a close ally in such an oath. For Storytellers and players, giving the motley a pledge that provides strong, shared purpose and agenda from the start gives an immediate drive to action. This avoids having Storyteller characters cajoling or inducing the changelings to take part in the story and strengthens the bonds between the characters within the narrative. Instead of being some friends who hang out and happen to have made a promise, the changelings swear to survive together, or become a revolutionary cell, or a band of misfits desperate to hide the awful crime they accidentally committed. This lets the group focus on a particular aspect of the setting and gives the Storyteller clear direction to create lean, dynamic chapters around. If the motley pledges to watch each other’s backs and survive together, the Storyteller can weave threats that require the changelings to protect each other, perhaps focusing on the specific flaws and weaknesses of any given motley-mate that she needs her allies to help her with. If the threats begin to form an all-encompassing web that threatens to entrap the whole motley, the individual characters then face the internal challenge of deciding whether to hold fast in trust and loyalty, or to cut their losses and break an oath in the name of their own survival. If, instead, the players are really interested in Huntsmen and the concept of guarding against Arcadia, they could create a motley with the pledged purpose of safeguarding changelings from Huntsmen, regardless of the prey’s allegiances or crimes. The Storyteller might then prepare each story arc around a particular victim and Huntsman, exploring both the thrill of the action and the consequences of saving — or failing — the prey. Alternatively, if the group is absolutely enthused about pledgecraft and fae magic, they might decide on a motley that pledges to drop into mortals’ lives and fix their problems, fairy tale style, as an attempt to live their own lives in a positive way with each day their freedom from Arcadia lasts. Motley Aspirations: If the Storyteller and players want to bring a sworn purpose from a motley oath to the forefront as a story focus, the group might agree to include a motley Aspiration. This is an additional Aspiration based on the pledge the motley swears, and so could be anything from “Be there for each other when times are tough,” to “Battle the huntsmen who come for my allies,” to “Watch the most common Hedge portals for recently freed changelings and influence the new arrivals to our agenda.” Motley Aspirations work best when the characters need to take a proactive stance to meet their goal or when the Storyteller agrees to challenge the Aspiration directly in play. A strong, compelling purpose drives drama and action, especially when it aligns to individual changelings’ Threads, but it doesn’t require grandiose or far-reaching goals. “Be there for each other when times are tough” is a powerful Aspiration for a Storyteller intending to focus on the motley-mates’ personal challenges and the players are interested in really exploring the struggles of their changelings as they try to just claw back some semblance of a life after their durance. The motley Aspiration is added to each character’s sheet as an additional Aspiration, and it is fixed for as long as the changeling is a member of the motley and has not broken the motley oath. If a character belongs to multiple motleys, she only gains the Aspiration of the motley most important to her, which should usually be whatever motley she shares with the other player characters. After all, that’s where the driving focus of the chronicle will likely be. Much like a normal Aspiration, the character earns a single Beat when fulfilling the stated goal but does not replace the Aspiration at the end of the game session. Each character can gain only a single Beat for a motley Aspiration per game session. Adding a motley Aspiration gives the characters strong additional incentive to focus on the motley’s pledged goal and also offers a slightly faster rate of advancement. If the group doesn’t want the increased rate of earned Beats, the motley Aspiration can simply replace one of the usual three character Aspirations. Alternatively, the Storyteller and players might agree that the Beats can go toward Experiences spent on advancements that make narrative sense within the motley’s accomplishments, such as new Motley Merits, or dots in Skills in which a talented motley-mate instructs her close friends.

Motleys in Lost Chronicles 125 Oath-Sworn Terms The oath serves as the motley’s heart, and its wording is important. It reflects the nature of whoever drafted it. An inexperienced motley may have a loose or simple oath, possibly sworn in the heat of the moment and not thought through. A motley protecting the mutual interests of older changelings is likely to be ironclad. The oath may reflect outside pressures on the members, such as a freehold forcing the changelings to swear not to cause trouble, or even include clauses for which none living quite remember the origins. However, the precise wording of an oath is rarely a matter of sophistry or hidden meanings made to ensnare the unwary in a trap of words. The Wyrd weaves itself through a motley oath upon the boughs of the participants’ intent, the collective understanding among the changelings of the oath’s true meaning. That intended purpose bears the oath’s power upon its shoulders; the spirit of the oath is what matters, rather than the specific wording, because in this case the spirit is the Wyrd, and it cares little for the tangled innuendos and sly maneuvers of whatever human language the Lost happen to have wrapped their desire inside. A changeling who thinks she’s cleverly entrapped her fellows is likely to sorely regret her machinations when not only does the Wyrd disagree, but she’s still stuck in a close, personal oath with a gang of people who no longer feel they can fully trust her. If, for example, the motley swears to guard each other from their Keeper’s pursuing beasts, they remain bound to that mutual aid if the Keeper sends a clattering mechanical monster of sparks and silver instead of a flesh-and-blood hunting horror. No amount of well actually it’s not a beast is it is going to convince the Wyrd the motley intended to only protect one another from a narrow category of pursuing animals. Equally, a sworn commitment to help each other with matters of the Hedge that mentions “debts” isn’t going to compel a changeling to pay off her motley-mate’s mundane mortgage, since the intent is clearly in the context of goblin bargains and fae magic. Ideally, the pledge’s wording has real teeth, directly mandating or condemning particular behaviors. Elements the group knows some characters will struggle to honor can help generate drama and draw a narrative focus to those changelings and the potential consequences of their failure. Crucially, however, the players should never be the ones struggling. The oath isn’t a storytelling tool for punishing players who want to see the narrative move outside of the oath’s remit, nor is it a means for the Storyteller or a group majority to force compliance to a particular theme some players don’t want to engage with. The oath requires buy-in from everyone at the table, especially the parts that will create conflict and drama. Roses and Thorns Your group may prefer to work through the creation of the motley in an organic fashion during a Session Zero, bouncing ideas off one another that eventually coalesce into an understanding of the motley’s origins, purpose, and oath. If you prefer a more structured approach, you can use the following method of Roses and Thorns to weave connecting threads between the motley-mates and establish its role for the beginning of the chronicle. This approach uses a short series of steps to build the relationships and conflicts that drive the motley. This process works best when run concurrently with character creation — particularly Merits, as it offers an incentive of bonus Motley Merit dots for playing along. Everyone can then adjust elements of their characters to as they go along to take account of the resulting relationships. All the players participate in fleshing out the motley’s background; the Storyteller doesn’t hold absolute authority over giving the yay or nay on a specific idea or relationship, although she may have advice or suggestions that help shape the outcome. The first step is to create a map of the motley, laying out the name of each character on a large sheet of paper, set of index cards, whiteboard, or virtual project map. Leave plenty of room around each character; the aim here is to produce a tapestry of threads among them, and to add new entries on the map representing outside pressures or characters who have played a key part in bringing the motley together. Each step involves linking a character to one or more others on the map. This might involve just drawing a line between the relevant characters, but it might be fun to use actual threads on a physical representation. The end result could be anything from an artistic arrangement of spun yarn to a conspiracy theorist’s fever-dream of pinned string, but regardless, giving it a tactile element with which participants can engage and to which they may contribute specific symbolism helps get everyone involved. Does the Ogre use rough string for all his connections? Does the Fairest use gold thread? Does the motley use red wire for all the Roses and green wire for all the Thorns? The crucial rule for Roses and Thorns is that connections among characters must always be agreed by any players involved. For example, if one player thinks it’d be cool for her changeling to nurse an unrequited love for her motleymate, but the player of the latter doesn’t feel comfortable tackling that idea in play for any reason, it’s his right to say no — and there’s no need for a player who turns down a connection to justify themselves unless they want to. This is a collaborative storytelling exercise and it’s important for everyone at the table to feel relaxed and safe. Roses In this step, each player looks at what positive forces have led to her character becoming a part of the motley. These driv-

126 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather ing ambitions drew the changeling into that circle of trust, and those who welcomed her into it. The ambitions form the attraction that serves as a foundation of the motley. That’s not to say they necessarily all need to be healthy or pure of heart and motive, but they’re fundamentally constructive. Firstly, choose (at least) one other player, and suggest a thread between your changeling and theirs. This thread should be something that draws the changeling to them, whether admiration born of their specific talents, a personal debt because they helped the changeling get back on her feet, love, enduring friendship, or even a shared ideal linked to the motley’s purpose. Discuss the potential thread with the other player and the group and, if the other player approves, tell the group how the thread gives the changeling a sense of surety or stability in her new life. Then, choose or create a new entry on the growing tapestry that lies outside of the motley and suggest a thread between your changeling and it. This entry should be a person or group, a situation, an event, or some other form of external context. The thread between changeling and context is something that helped bring the changeling into the motley because it inspired or encouraged them, or perhaps gave them positive reasons to trust and buy into the spirit of the oath. It might be a friend or ally who pointed her to her new motley-mates, or the encouragement of a key member of one of the courts, or the desire to help other people evade the Gentry. If the group concurs, tell them about how the thread gave the changeling the impetus she needed to believe in the motley and her new fellows. Thorns This step explores negative influences that push at the changeling. They may have pushed her into the motley or stir conflict between her and her motley-mates. Thorns are often needs, whether the need for safety from a threat or the need for that bastard motley-mate to finally acknowledge her superior talent. They’re still threads, because hate and fear can tie people together as closely as love and courage. Thorns may hurt but they catch and snare; pulling completely free of them can be even more agonizing, so the changeling prefers to accept the dull ache of their presence in her mind. First, choose another player and suggest a new thread between your character and theirs that derives from this more destructive aspect — perhaps a rivalry, a grudge she’s never forgotten, something she needs from the character, or something she envies. It should bind them together rather than force them apart; a debt she intends to collect, a suspicion that makes her watch them to keep the rest of the motley safe, a flaw she sees in them and wants to fix, or a role she needs them to play in her life that they do not yet fulfill. The new thread is friction, but strong friction keeps things stuck together even as it generates heat. If the other player concurs, tell the group how the thread entangles her in the motley, how it pisses her off but also keeps her there. Next, choose or create an external force or context and suggest a thread that links your changeling to it in a negative way. Perhaps it’s her Keeper, and fear drives her to need safety with the motley. Perhaps it’s a clash of personality with the same character who another motley-mate was inspired by, and which drove her into the motley’s arms in search of allies. Perhaps it’s something as abstract as loneliness, the need to have someone, anyone, who understands what life is like for her now. If the group concurs with the idea, tell them a way that she drowns out or indulges those negative emotions via her interactions with the rest of the motley. Weaving the Tapestry By this point, the group should have a mess of threads connecting motley-mates to one another and to external forces — a visual explanation of the pressures that have brought the motley together and have kept them together. For each of the two steps completed, a character gains one bonus Experience to spend on Motley Merits. Keep the tapestry on hand as the chronicle unfolds; it can serve as a useful reminder for the players of roleplaying hooks and interaction prompts. The group may even want to go further, adjusting and rethreading the map as relationships between the changelings alter and new pressures appear on their periphery. At the Storyteller’s discretion, the tapestry may provide further benefits during play. Add dice equal to the number of threads between two changelings to rolls resisting Occult or Social influence attempting to pry them apart. A changeling may be able to cash in a link once per chapter for a bonus die on a roll to help the other character (for a Rose) or to outdo or impress them (for a Thorn). Links could even refresh additional Willpower points when a changeling’s Needle or Thread coincides with them. Sworn Fellowships Motleys come in all manner of shape, purpose, and origin. What follows is a selection of motley oaths, illustrating how changelings implement such societal pledgecraft among themselves. Children of the Stone Terms: Whosoever does spill their blood upon this stone does declare themselves to the rest of us as a sibling. The bonds of blood now tie us in loyalty forever. All siblings of this stone are family, and family never spills each other’s blood in anger; family never betrays each other. To wrong one of the family is to wrong all of us. Any sibling who wrongs another of the family owes blood, shed in balance to the ill action taken but once that blood is shed, it washes away all shame. Motley: The motley carved this oath onto the brow and temples of a rather lifelike stone head — originally part of a fetch. The bust serves as their lynchpin, a visual reminder of the motley’s family bonds. Over the years, like a birth family,

Motleys in Lost Chronicles 127 various motley members have moved on or even travelled to entirely different freeholds, where they act as an informal network of trustworthy relatives across the region. Benefit: Once per chapter, a motley member can reflexively shift a single point of any kind of damage from her health track to that of a willing motley-mate she has touched in the last day. Consequences: A member of the Children of the Stone who breaks her pledge suffers the Notoriety Condition with other siblings of the motley. She can lift this consequence by either inflicting as many points of lethal damage on herself as she inflicted on a sibling in one bloodletting, inflicting that amount of lethal damage on the Children of the Stone’s enemies, or — as the motley recently discovered — donating five pints of blood to a hospital or other good cause; the donation does not need to happen all in one go. If the betrayal involved no actual bloodshed, it requires five points of damage to balance. The Tail-Tied Rats Terms: I promise I’ve got your back. When the Gentry come for you, I’ll be there at your side. When everything gets too confused, too fucked up, I’ll be there to listen to you. When you don’t know what to do, when you’re lost, I’ll come find you. We’re all in this together, and I promise I’ll stick by you. Motley: The Tail-Tied Rats is a small motley of changelings who escaped their durances together and swore an oath shortly after emerging from the Hedge. It’s a simple pledge of protection and fellowship, made in the spirit of being anchors for each other in a world gone mad. Artlessly worded and phrased, it reflects the intensity of fellowship the motley felt. Benefits: Once per chapter, one member of the motley can reduce the dice pool of a Clarity breaking point or attack affecting another motley-mate by 2. She must be present in person and providing her friend with words of comfort and reassurance. Consequences: A changeling who fails to provide the support this pledge demands adds her 2 dice to all Clarity breaking point and attack rolls she suffers, as well as a gnawing sensation that she had a tail once, but something cut it off. This lasts until she makes good on her promises and provides help or comfort to a motley-mate in a time of need. The Hunters Terms: My strong arm is yours. I’ll have your back against prey and foe, no matter how fierce their aspect or terrible their claws. If you fall, I’ll protect you while there’s still breath on your lips. I’ll trust each of you as an extension of myself, and I’ll be your spear in turn. I will speak only the truth of your prowess and glory, and never claim false pride from accomplishments that were not my own. This I swear. Motley: A motley that spends much of its time in the Hedge and whose members fancy themselves hunters of that place’s terrible denizens swore this particular oath. They need to trust each other in the face of potentially lethal danger and share a desire for fair recognition of accomplishments and prowess — a reflection of vanity among the motley-mates, perhaps, but a means of resolving it without conflict. A new initiate to the motley sounds the group’s hunting horn to seal the pledge. Benefit: Once per chapter during an action scene, when a motley-mate sounds the motley’s hunting horn as an instant action, all members of the motley may change their current Initiative to match the highest Initiative among them. This becomes each character’s new Initiative score for the remainder of the scene. Consequence: As noted in the first line, a changeling who joins this motley swears her strong arm. Should she break the pledge, whenever she faces a hobgoblin or other hedge creature in physical conflict, she immediately suffers the Arm Wrack Tilt as her dominant arm weakens and hangs useless; the effect ends at the end of the scene. Since the oath does not include specific terms to make up for the oath-breaking, this may keep happening until the Wyrd is satisfied that recompense has been made to the injured parties. The Fair and Honorable Merchants Terms: I solemnly and sincerely promise I shall be a fair trading partner and friend to those of this motley, and that I will act to maintain the good reputation of this motley in matters of business and trade through my own upright actions. When my fellows labor under debt to the beings of the Hedge, I will make fair and honest effort to help them lift those debts, to a maximum of five goblinsweight in a year, without any profit on my part. I swear that if I break this contract with my fellows for any reason, I will make recompense through alleviating the debt burdens of my fellows by one goblinsweight each such that they are satisfied in my goodwill. Motley: This rather formal oath is read from a scroll, which the changeling signs. The motley in question is a collection of changelings who specialize in trade and barter, particularly relating to hobgoblins and Goblin Debt. The Fair and Honorable Merchants prize their carefully built reputation as honest dealers in both freehold and Hedge and wrote the pledge as a pact of mutual protection and co-operation to cement their position. A “goblinsweight” roughly corresponds to a single point of Goblin Debt. Benefit: Once per chapter, a member of the motley can shift a single point of her Goblin Debt to another willing motley-mate. Consequences: Violating the agreement inflicts the Notoriety Condition on the changeling, pertaining to both the freehold and local Hedge denizens. The changeling can lift the Condition by agreeing to take on a single point of Goblin Debt from each other motley member.

128 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather Harlequins The deftly woven threads of the Wyrd bind a motley together in a tapestry of dramaturgy, thrumming with the power of all that shared identity, that emotion, and those memories forged strong in the crucible of motley-mates’ overlapping perspectives. The motley is more than just the changelings who make up its ranks; it’s the heady broth of their mutual experience and sympathetic magic. Out there in the Hedge, things without faces hunger for this feast of identity, longing to clothe themselves in the fabric of such shared experience to make up for their own lack. Changelings have come to call these things harlequins; they seek to steal into a motley’s close bonds and feed off the Glamour of its fellowship, garb themselves in the personae of its members, and remake themselves in its image. They’re a kind of Hedge ghost, and they crave the power of the Wyrd that flows within the motley as a means of stitching together their Thorn-shredded natures into sham mockeries of real people. Each harlequin seeks to literally become a motley — first individual members, then any or all of them — in an attempt to sate the hollow void of identity within itself. In most cases, harlequins are a menace. They slip into a motley’s ranks, follow the threads of the Wyrd-bound oath binding the changelings together, and sow havoc by stealing appearances and stirring discord. As a harlequin consumes more and more fabric of the motley’s shared identity, it seeks to usurp the changelings themselves. It might try to drive off or isolate motley-mates so they can’t interfere with its charade, or it may simply start killing them. If no one manages to stop it, it will core a motley out until the whole thing collapses, usually leaving the wretched creature to starve of Glamour as a maddened nightmare utterly convinced it is all the people whose identities it stole. It’s dramaturgy turned poisonous, a toxic thief of trust. A rare few harlequins are relatively benign. The motley might detect a minor Hedge ghost infiltrator that lacks enough drive to be particularly vicious in its feeding, and finds it suits them to keep the poor thing. Feed it just enough of their nature to let it take a motley member’s form, achieve some basic mimicry of mannerisms and voice, and it could even prove a useful stand-in or body double at critical moments. This is a dangerous game, should the harlequin’s hunger ever slip the leash. From whence do harlequins hail? Few Hedge ghosts express this sinister capability; there’s something distinctly different between a harlequin and other spectres. Many changelings believe harlequins are the wretched spawn of fetches who somehow ended up in the Hedge and had their fabricated personalities torn apart by the Thorns. Others claim they’re the last embers of a fetch’s animating magic driven to one last attempt at seizing the identity a changeling took back from them.

Motleys in Lost Chronicles 129 Systems Harlequins are Hedge ghosts but possess several unusual capabilities relating to motleys: • A harlequin’s To Market, To Market ability can sense the nearest changeling in the Hedge who is a member of a motley, instead of a goblin market. • A harlequin can replace a motley member’s connection to their oath if it is present when any motley member breaks the oath. Harlequins usually possess enough innate cunning to hide themselves near their prey in the hope of such an event coming to pass. • An infiltrated harlequin harvests a single point of Glamour whenever a member of the motley uses their motley benefit or inducts another member into the motley in its presence, or when they affirm their Needle or Thread in a way that involves the motley or a specific motley-mate in its presence, or when it steals an item belonging to them that holds particularly strong significance to their sense of self-identity. • Once infiltrated into the motley, the harlequin can sense the rough direction of and distance to any of the motley’s members. • Each time the harlequin harvests Glamour in this way, it gains the ability to copy something about that motley-mate: their face; their height, weight, and general body shape; their voice; their mannerisms; or their shallow memories. The order is not set, and the harlequin may choose what it copies each time. It can express any number of copied aspects for 1 point of Glamour as an Instant action, shedding its normal features in place of the mimicry. Each copied aspect also grants it one additional die on Empathy, Subterfuge, and attack rolls against that motley-mate. • Once a harlequin has copied all five aspects of a target, it can replace its own Needle and Thread with theirs by spending a point of Glamour; this lasts for a story, or until it uses this ability again to copy the Anchors of a different motley-mate. It does not need to spend Glamour to copy the Anchors of a motleymate who has the Oathbreaker Condition or who is dead. • A harlequin must spend a point of Glamour each story to sustain its pretense within the Wyrd’s bond; it also loses a point of Glamour in any scene in which a motley-mate successfully calls it out as not being the motley-mate it pretends at. While infiltrated into a motley, should the harlequin ever fully deplete, the Wyrd’s retributive force immediately tears its fundamental essence apart. Thorns Within and Without Changelings can be prickly and, even within the pledgereinforced trust of a motley, come into conflict with those close to them. Most of these clashes are the small, irrelevant kind that society conditions people to smooth over and move on from, but sometimes the friction grows too great, or something that really matters to the Lost leaves them at loggerheads. Passions flare. Fears run rampant. Voices rise, changelings refuse to back down, and discord results. This kind of conflict in the game can create exciting drama, as long as the players are all on board with it. When everyone isn’t on the same page, it can instead result in frustration or irritation bleeding out from the narrative to affect the players directly. Some groups would rather not deal with inter-character conflict at all, while others revel in it and can engage in intense competition without any ill-feeling away from the game. As such, it’s key to nail down preferences before play, and make sure the whole group understands what is and isn’t okay for the chronicle at hand. Knives In, Knives Out A simple approach to how the group handles conflict is to choose whether the motley will be knives in or knives out. In a knives in group, the group assumes the chronicle’s drama and excitement stem from the motley’s internal clashes. The players explicitly expect the motley’s knives are all pointed inward, at each other, and that a certain level of friction is the norm. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the motley are all scheming conspirators looking to get a little extra height by stepping on their supposed friends; the characters may all be genuinely close. However, the players actively expect the narrative to focus on the ways in which the characters conflict personally. By comparison, a knives out group is the motley versus the world. Tensions and arguments might happen, but the players can safely assume that no matter how upset a changeling gets with her motley-mates, she’ll still back them up when trouble comes. The motley always comes first. It’d take something very significant in the narrative to pry any of the player characters apart from their loyalty to their fellows, and the players can expect this to be signaled clearly even if their characters are not aware. Lots of potential nuance exists in the space between knives out and knives in, but it can be valuable to have a clear, open declaration before the chronicle begins that the players can expect internal conflict to be actively encouraged, or that they can expect the motley to be fundamentally on the same side and betrayal or infighting to be sidelined. Staged Struggle Where conflict does occur between motley-mates, a good-faith approach to handling it helps deliver drama and excitement for the players while also keeping the strife inside

130 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather Agonism and the Contagion Chronicles The social conflict system here derives from the agonism rules in The Contagion Chronicle, which focuses on characters from different Chronicles of Darkness games coming together in the face of a greater threat — and the frictions that may arise between them as they do so. See The Contagion Chronicle, p. XX, for a version of these rules not specific to Changeling. the chronicle’s narrative. Rather than a broad ban or embrace of such, the following optional system for adjudicating in-character conflict encourages both teamwork and interpersonal drama, which enriches the story. Social Currency Staged struggle relies on the exchange of social currency. Characters accumulate points of social currency through acts of support and trust, and building their reputations among the Lost, as follows: • Once per scene, a character can earn one point by putting herself at risk or giving something up to meaningfully aid a motley-mate. • Once per scene, a character can earn one point by putting herself at risk to do something that slows, hinders, or harms the True Fae or their servants, or significantly alleviates the burden of the Wyrd upon anyone in her motley by paying off Goblin Debt or helping them uphold their end of a pledge. • Once per scene, a character can earn one point by actively taking steps to uphold or keep to the motley oath she has sworn in a way that other characters can clearly perceive. • Once per scene, each character who participated in a successful teamwork action with other player characters gains one point. If a character has any points of social currency, whenever she’s a secondary actor in such a teamwork action, she always adds at least one die to the primary actor’s roll even if her roll fails; if she dramatically fails, reduce the penalty she imposes on the primary actor’s roll to −3. • At the end of each chapter, each player awards one social currency point to someone else’s character for something she did in that chapter, whether it was healing his wounds, talking him through a hard time, or just providing good banter; a character can’t earn two points for the same action, however. These are usually smaller gestures than those that earn a character points from the Storyteller. • Whenever a character (or group of characters who agree to compromise) wins a negotiation (see below), distribute all the social currency she bid evenly among the losing participants. A character who voluntarily capitulates gains one extra point, and a Beat. If all negotiating characters reach an acceptable compromise, each participant gains one point; if the players are using the group Beats option, the group earns a single Beat, otherwise the players must choose one character to gain the Beat. Acceptable compromises only award the motley one such Beat per chapter. • Whenever a character resolves the Trusting Condition (p. XX), she or the trusted character gains an extra point (see below). • At the end of each chapter, each character loses one social currency point; a character needs to put effort into being a team player to stay in the motley’s good graces. • Whenever a character gains the Oathbreaker Condition, she loses three social currency points. Negotiation Whenever two or more player characters come into conflict and the players wish to resolve it using a staged struggle, they enter a negotiation. The character with the most social currency at the moment goes first; in case of a tie, go with the character with the higher Composure. The first character bids a number of social currency points he’s willing to part with to assert his will. Then, each character in order of current social currency total (or Composure where necessary) has a chance to outbid the previous offer. Go around the circle as many times as it takes before the highest bid stands unchallenged. With each bid, the player must offer a new argument, a bribe, a threat, or something else to bring his opponents around, sweeten the pot, or break down convictions. The last bid standing wins the negotiation; everyone else takes back their bid points, and the winner (or winners, in case of a partial compromise, below) distributes the social currency he bid evenly among all the losing characters. Any leftover points simply vanish. Any character may, on his turn, voluntarily capitulate; if so, he withdraws from the negotiation, keeping all his social currency and gaining the benefits in the list above. Only one character per side of a conflict may participate in a negotiation. If several characters agree on a course of action, they choose one among them to negotiate for their

Unconventional Motleys 131 position. A character who wants to put forward a new position halfway through can jump in at any time. On his turn, a player may offer a compromise instead of a new bid. If all participants accept the compromise, the negotiation ends; everyone keeps all their bid currency, and each participant gains the benefits in the list above. If only some accept it, the negotiation continues, but now all characters who accepted the compromise may pool their social currency to outbid the remainder, drawing points evenly from each character’s total. A character who has social currency invested in another participant (see below) may never spend his last point to outbid that participant. If it comes down to that, he must capitulate; however, he gains the same benefits for doing so as if he voluntarily gave in. As Storyteller, you’re within your rights to deny the players use of this system if they abuse it by negotiating and then deliberately “compromising” or “capitulating” to do what the whole group wanted to do in the first place. The point of staged struggle is to settle real conflicts between characters and reward those who take one for the team. Don’t force the use of this system in situations where the players are content to just hash things out in character through roleplay. As the Storyteller, you can suggest a negotiation, but everyone involved must agree before moving forward with it in any given scene. Investment A player may invest between one and three social currency points into another protagonist. Doing so indicates a significant level of trust. A character with points invested gains the Trusting Condition (p. XX) with respect to the trusted character and may have this Condition multiple times to represent trust in multiple companions. TRUSTING (Persistent) Your character has invested a great deal of trust in one of her motley-mates, cementing their bond even more deeply than usual. Gain bonus dice equal to the number of invested social currency points to any teamwork action you take with that character, whether you’re the primary or secondary actor. Gain the same to rolls you make to help him overcome emotional trials, negative mental influence, or regain clarity, including activation rolls for supernatural powers. That character’s player gains the same bonus on all Social rolls he makes against yours, if you allow such rolls. In a negotiation, you must capitulate to the trusted character if you would spend your last social currency point to outbid him. Possible Sources: Investing social currency in another character. Resolution: The trusted character affirms the trust by making a significant personal sacrifice on your character’s behalf, gaining one bonus success on the sacrificial action and a Willpower point. Alternatively, the trusted character meaningfully betrays the trust or performs an action that costs your character something significant, gaining one bonus success on the betraying action and a Willpower point. Beat: A significant action or event that proves the trust was well-placed. Unconventional Motleys Changelings were once mortals, and no matter what they think they are now, they are still social creatures. Mutual protection, companionship, or a common cause or belief could all fuel changelings to come together in a motley. They seal their motley with a mutually beneficial pledge, giving assurances that even if their friendships fail, members of the group are unlikely to betray the others. The motley serves a purpose, and usually that purpose is no deeper than the yearning to be with others — even if you aren’t their friends, even if you don’t trust them. Socialization is its own reward. While a motley doesn’t have to form around true friendship, it is representative of the meaning of friendship. Friendship is a fraught word for the Lost. They do not trust easily, and they do not open themselves readily to others. When a changeling gains a friend, she holds on tight, and often wants to formalize the relationship somehow. Hence, motleys form. Some changelings find their friends in unlikely places: not among the Lost, but among the mortal population, hobgoblins, fae-touched, and other supernatural creatures. The following sections explain how changelings might form motleys with these unconventional friends. Motley Pledges Trust among the Lost is a fabrication built on promises and kept words. The Lost are supernaturally compelled to follow their pledge or suffer the consequences, and this allows other changelings to extend a modicum of trust. Lost can build trust beyond that supernatural binding. It may not come easily as they have been burned in the past, but they are not completely devoid of hope. But when a motley wishes to include a non-changeling — someone for whom pledges are not supernaturally binding — they must trust this person without supernatural assurances. How can the group ensure that their new motley-mate will keep his word and that they can trust him? What power will label him oathbreaker and punish him if he steps out of line or betrays the motley? How will other changelings know that this mortal or hobgoblin is not only not good for their word, but a danger to changeling society? The short answer is that they can’t make a supernaturally binding contract, but that doesn’t mean they can’t hold the

132 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather member accountable. For mortals and non-fae creatures, it is relatively easy. The member makes a promise to the motley, and a changeling seals the promise, as often as necessary. Fae creatures are trickier, but the premise is the same. Just because a fae creature can unseal her oath, it doesn’t mean she should or will, as the changeling doing the sealing knows immediately that it happened. In a way, allowing the changeling to seal her promise brings a modicum more trust to a fae creature than a mortal who couldn’t shake the compulsion if she tried. Changelings who induct fae-touched into their motleys have a better time of it. Not only can the changeling initiate an oath with their fae-touched as normal, but the Avowed have their name for a reason. Freehold Politics When deciding to create a motley with mixed character types, the players and Storyteller should consider how that affects the freehold and their place within it. Just because a motley accepts a hobgoblin, mortal, or other supernatural creature into their circle of trust doesn’t mean the rest of the freehold will react well to the idea. How the freehold reacts to a non-standard motley member is not universal. Some freeholds welcome to non-changeling members, giving them a place within the freehold and accepting them as one of their own once the newcomers demonstrate trustworthiness. Well-established or older freeholds have likely come across the situation before and have rules covering such situations. More secure freeholds are more likely to be welcoming of non-changeling members, though some may view outsiders as a threat to that security. Players should discuss with the Storyteller what kind of stories they want to tell by including a non-changeling motley member. If they want to dive into the politics of allowing in an outsider, then presenting a resistant freehold allows them to delve into how to win their motley member a place in Lost society. A resistant freehold may allow the characters chances to play at politics, fight duels for their motley-mate’s honor, or go on wild quests to prove the member’s worth. If the players prefer a less political and more adventurous game, then a resistant freehold might make less sense. While the freehold might not fully welcome the non-changeling, forcing the players to deal with their characters being drawn into politics doesn’t create fun for anyone. Instead, they may continuously find reasons to avoid the freehold proper. Even freeholds with open membership policies are likely to have rules and stipulations about how to join if you aren’t a changeling. The freehold may hold the non-changeling to a higher standard or require her to prove herself. Players may choose to skirt danger by actively breaking those rules or attempt to follow them to the best of their ability. The non-changeling member — unless she is fae-touched — cannot enter into an oath with the freehold, so the freehold might restrict her actions or make the rest of the motley take new, more detailed, oaths covering their member who cannot swear for herself. Court Politics Normally, non-changeling characters care little about changeling courts, as the True Fae do not hunt them. However, when they enter a motley agreement, the changelings’ concerns become more immediate for that motley member. Even though she may not be able to use Contracts, having a built-in social network may appeal to the character. Some courts are more open to non-changeling admission than others, though anyone incapable of swearing an oath can’t truly become a member. The character can still participate in the court’s functions or provide support for the court, but she will always be adjacent. Members do not treat her as a full member, and she won’t have access to all available resources and secrets. Again, players should determine what kind of story they want when deciding if the non-changeling character will become embroiled in court politics. Maybe being beholden to a specific court is a requirement the freehold has placed on the member, or the motley-mates all share a court, so the member wants to support them there. Keep in mind how the court might feel about a nonchangeling member, and what kind of threat that might pose to the court. The changelings can strike up bargains with a mortal, for example, to gain greater shielding from the Fae, but a hobgoblin provides no such benefit. The changelings may find themselves at odds with court members disgruntled about them bringing in an outsider, while the non-changeling faces discrimination from them. The nonchangeling may prove invaluable as a court member, giving her an extra avenue of support and assistance when dealing with the freehold. The motley may blaze a path to welcoming all sorts of non-changelings into the court, or conversely find themselves constantly cleaning up messes as the lowest ranking members. Fae Creatures Hobgoblins present an interesting quandary to a motley. They live in the Hedge going about their daily lives, but their interactions with the Lost leave much to be desired. Hobgoblins can also be allies, hiding changelings in Hollows or turning Huntsmen away from their quarry. A series of mutually beneficial exchanges could turn a neutral hobgoblin into a friend for life, that friend therefore earning his place within a motley based on mutual trust. While rare between changelings and hobgoblins, this sort of friendship is not unheard of. Motleys built around specific goals or prescribed actions are more likely to induct a hobgoblin than one based solely around friendship or loyalty. Hobgoblins can’t swear oaths, so when the motley needs a short-term agreement, including him into the motley might make the most sense. The motley becomes more of a business transaction than a friendship, and even in a motley with close-knit changeling members, they almost invariably keep their hobgoblin counterpart at arm’s length.

Unconventional Motleys 133 Hobgoblins, just like people, come in all types. Their society falls somewhere on the edges of the dichotomy between the True Fae and Lost, often indifferent to changelings’ concerns. That isn’t to say they don’t get involved every now and then, acting as a patsy for a True Fae or helping a changeling with an issue. It’s just that most barely even register that conflict in their daily lives. If a hobgoblin joins the motley, it is for good reason. It means that he needs something only the changelings can give him, and he’s willing to work by their rules, at least for a time. A changeling might have access to something the hobgoblin needs, or the hobgoblin has important information or items the motley can use for a specific mission. They enter into a verbal agreement; a pact of mutual protection or nonaggression that benefits both sides is of utmost importance. The hobgoblin can’t partake in a changeling oath, but that doesn’t mean she won’t want their agreement’s verbiage to cover all motley members, including herself. Changeling members only accept such terms with a sealed promise, unbroken, to follow the oath. Sometimes the hobgoblin is a source of Goblin Contracts and favors, or gives them intel on other hobgoblins, ensuring they make better-informed decisions about who has Goblin Debt over them. While most of the time changelings don’t know when or where they’ll have to work off their Debt, having a hobgoblin in the motley means they can negotiate from a more advantageous position. Storytellers should be sure that when spending Goblin Debt incurred from a motley-mate, the characters have a chance to offer to spend their Debt for the hobgoblin. When a character would gain Debt points from a Contract negotiated with a hobgoblin motley-mate, the player can choose to instead perform an action or deed for the hobgoblin immediately. This translates to accepting a −1 penalty to her dice pool for her very next action. This still requires negotiation; Storytellers should feel free to refuse any offer which doesn’t fully suit the needs of the Contract or the hobgoblin’s desires. Sometimes, changelings end up with hobgoblins in their motleys by chance. A member too greedy with Goblin Contracts racked up enough Debt to change her into a Hedge denizen. While she can’t engage in any new oaths, her motley pledge still stands firm. She does her motley-mates no favors by splitting her time between them and her new hobgoblin obligations, and her new obligations might fall in direct opposition to the motley’s goals. If she becomes a Goblin Queen, the situation worsens. The character is now in charge of a piece of Hedge territory and lesser hobgoblins who all look to her for guidance. While this can mean the motley has easier access to Hedge fruit, tokens, and goblins with which to gain Contracts, it also means that they are going to certainly get embroiled in goblin politics. Other hobgoblins may start targeting the changelings as allies to the Queen to bring her low, the

134 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather Queen may have to deal with territory disputes, the changelings may find themselves with weird Hedge-borne anomalies invading their personal lives, or they may have to deal with the Queen’s old changeling court looking for them. Huntsmen Huntsmen make the most unlikely of motley-mates. A Huntsman whose heart is in a Bastion is likely to make an oath with a changeling who has given him only the briefest of respites from the driving urges bestowed by the Fae. His own desires present for just a moment, he agrees to an oath, he binds it with his heart, and it is a lifelong pledge to some action or another. A desperate motley may make a motley oath with a Huntsman, hoping to stave off his hunt with an oath of non-aggression and mutual benefit. It is just wild enough to work, and if he breaks it, then what hope remains for them, anyway? Storytellers should be careful about letting the characters make this kind of oath with a Huntsman. It certainly makes for an interesting story of desperation and danger, but it could also spell the motley’s doom. It’s one thing for a single changeling to voluntarily endanger herself with an oath to a Huntsman; it’s entirely different for the whole motley to do it, so if one or more of the players plans to do such a thing, make sure everyone is on board and understands the risks. Mortals Mortals present a terrifying conundrum to the motley. On one hand, they embody everything a changeling has lost and a world that feels alien to her, but on the other hand they are the people who keep the changeling grounded. She needs to be around mortals, she needs them to help remind her of her identity, but she is so very different from them that sometimes they seem alien. A motley might incorporate a mortal into their ranks for plenty of reasons. The motley may believe this is the only way to truly protect the person. A changeling’s Touchstone is certainly important enough to warrant protection, and if this person serves as Touchstone to multiple motley members, it could motivate them to include her. Such protection can prove to be a double-edged sword if they aren’t careful. Having a mortal motley-mate can complicate the changelings’ lives. It’s dangerous for mortals to enter the Hedge alone, but in the presence of a motley, the changelings can attempt to assure her safety. Freeholds are likely to try to forbid her from their business, but this just gives the changelings an avenue to include her in non-standard ways. She may act as an information source to multiple freehold members who are unaware that she is a motley-mate to their friends. Courts do not let mortals join their ranks — they barely let fae-touched join. The motley might pose more risk to the human than the protection they offer, though that doesn’t mean they won’t try their hardest to keep her safe. Players should consider why they want their changelings to include a mortal in their motley. He could be one of their Touchstones, or an important informant that they need to protect. Maybe she has one foot in the supernatural already and the characters worry she will get hurt without their protection. In general, players choose mortal motley members who are player characters, but they may also adopt a particularly persistent Storyteller character too valuable to let roam unprotected. Storytellers should think about what kinds of stories make having a mortal motley member fun. The motley can drag the mortal nearly anywhere they go, from the Hedge to dreamscapes. In some cases, the mortal can prove an asset, while in others, she may provide a source of tension or story. Just remember that the mortal member of a motley might be less powerful than her allies, but she isn’t useless. Getting her into the action may take more steps and preparation, but she likely brings surprising talents and a little perspective. A mortal member of the motley is bound to get into dangerous situations where the motley needs to save or protect him. This can drive interesting character development and story. But be careful to not overuse this, as having to constantly save a character’s life, time after time, can get repetitive fast. Mortal characters don’t have frailties and can navigate through the world a bit easier than the Lost. This gives a mortal member a leg up, allowing her to shine in social situations dealing with other mortals. Additionally, mortals have access to supernatural Merits which can make her more than equal when dealing with lesser hobgoblins as well as other supernatural threats the motley might encounter outside the Hedge. Fae-Touched The relationship between fae-touched and changelings can be strange. Some changelings see fae-touched as no different from other mortals, viewing them as valuable assets, but overall weak outsiders. Some view them as changeling adjacent, knowledgeable about their lives and devoted to their cause. Others resent them for having avoided unspeakable torture at the hands of the True Fae. Motleys are more likely to include a fae-touched mortal than someone who is completely ignorant of Arcadia and the supernatural. Her time in the Hedge changed her, and while she doesn’t bear the same scars as the Lost, she knows a lot more about what the changeling has been through than other mortals. The Lost gain the dual benefit of spending time with a human who grounds them and a confidant who understands them. She isn’t as much of a liability as a normal mortal is, as she has some access to Arcadian Contracts. The fae-touched are also renowned for their dedication to promises, making them trustworthy allies. Unfortunately, fae-touched can be a liability in other ways. She is addicted to the Hedge, trying to enter it at any

Found Family and Desperate Alliances 135 Twilight and the Fae A mere whisper away from the existence mortals perceive lie myriad invisible frequencies of reality where ghosts and spirits abound. Called Twilight, these ephemeral states are simply out of phase with the mundane world. The denizens of Twilight are usually invisible and intangible to anyone not attuned to their specific frequency. Ghosts in the deathly frequency of Twilight cannot normally perceive the alien entities in the spiritual frequency of Twilight, and vice versa. Like turning the dial on a radio receiver, some beings can move between these frequencies or tune themselves into physical existence for periods of time. Twilight has no frequency attuned to the fae or the Wyrd. Dreamlike intangibility and impermanence mark the spectral magic of the Lost rather than the phantasmal horror of ephemeral entities. Changeling therefore does not include the full ephemeral entity or manifestation rules of some other Chronicles of Darkness lines. A dematerialized Hedge ghost in the mortal world is not considered to be in any phase of Twilight, and few supernatural powers that affect ghosts apply to a Hedge ghost anyway. Helldivers (Changeling, p. 53) using their kith-granted power to become incorporeal, however, are considered to be in all frequencies of Twilight at once, so they can perceive and interact with ghosts, spirits, Goetia, angels, and any other oddities of ephemeral nature. Furthermore, incorporeal Helldivers can also interact with any other immaterial things in the mortal world that are not in Twilight, such as dematerialized Hedge ghosts or other fae magics. The Whispers of Morning Contract (Changeling, p. 143) renders a changeling incorporeal but does not put her in any phase of Twilight, and she gains no ability to perceive or interact with Twilight beings, nor vice versa. The same is true for the supernatural effects of any other Contract, token, or other fae magic that renders a changeling incorporeal, unless it specifies otherwise. chance, and the prospects of entering drive her to erratic action and fixation. Characters invariably find themselves drawn to the Hedge as their motley-mate does everything in her power to go there. This could lead to fun stories as she gets the group into trouble through her impulsive actions. A motley with a fae-touched member might find the freehold is less open to them. Some changelings feel the faetouched shouldn’t get exposed to any more of Arcadia than they already have been and shun fae-touched members. The motley may have problems working with specific Lost who feel this way and might have to deal with interesting politics as they try to change their opinions on the matter. Storytellers should think about what role the faetouched character plays for the motley. They have a unique skill set that can make them valuable to a motley, allowing them to oversee and enforce oaths for it. Because they can use Contracts, they are more capable than a normal mortal, but have a limited capacity compared to a changeling. A faetouched character is likely to have to navigate freehold and court politics, attempting to find her place in the motley’s world, which will inevitably embroil the motley as well. Her Hedge addiction is likely to get them all into trouble from time to time, though it means she’s always up for a romp when the motley has cause to go there. Found Family and Desperate Alliances Wonders and terrors beyond even the reckoning of the Lost lie in the forgotten, dark corners of the world. Strange creatures slink through the night, driven by hungers unfamiliar to changelings. Eldritch other-realms press against reality’s trembling skin, occasionally spilling forth their alien denizens. Some of these beings are utterly inhuman; others, like changelings, have had their humanity torn or sculpted into something horrifying and new. Among such monsters and nightmares, though, some find common ground or even welcome with the Lost and their motleys. Motleys rarely invite another creature of the night into the circle of trust, making it nearly unheard of them to invest such faith in several such entities at once. Changelings have a lot to lose by making a mistake in judgment, after all. A shapeshifter or sorcerer wielding unfamiliar magic is a potential threat and conspirator with the Gentry, all the more so once welcomed into one’s hearth and home. Even the binding power of the Wyrd does not always suffice when confronting irreconcilable and potent occult forces. The enduring presence of an outsider within a motley marks either the deepest of loyalties or the greatest of desperation. The particular attitudes of changelings toward any given kind of supernatural being vary widely depending on the context and culture within which the two meet. In one city, changelings think vampires are fetch magic turned hungry and parasitic, a false person stealing life from others to maintain their own existence. In another region, the Lost scarcely know vampires exist at all. However, while the interpretations and attitudes change from place to place, certain

136 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather underlying interactions between the Wyrd and these other supernatural forces do not. Motleys, Monsters, and Mystics The horrors hiding in humanity’s shadow come in all manner of shapes and sizes, and their strange gifts sometimes interweave with the Wyrd’s power in unexpected ways. Vampires Vampires sit uneasily with changelings. Similarities draw the two together, particularly to Darklings and Leechfingers, but while plenty of vampires are victims, they’re also innately predators who feed on people. Too many vampires hurt others as their modus operandi, even welcoming it with bestial eagerness. Still, a motley might welcome a troubled or recently turned vampire for precisely this reason, hoping to offer protection and aid and stop her from falling to such monstrous depths. For others, the terrible frailties of the vampire state serve as strong enough collateral to guarantee any pact; the changelings can wield fire and sunlight against their motleymate with trivial ease, should treachery or predation come to the fore. Vampires possess their own blood magic, a form of crimson sorcery that forges red bonds of lust and desire. The notaries of the Invictus harness these bonds to seal the swearing of sanguine oaths. While a vampire cannot swear into a normal Wyrd-bound motley oath, she can shed a point of Vitae to affirm it in her own way, as a form of submission. Her Beast and blood recognize something in the Wyrd’s power, forming a crude blood oath in the same pattern as an Invictus Oath (Vampire: The Requiem Second Edition, p.116). The vampire is the vassal, the whole motley her liege. Any terms included in the motley oath become the terms of the blood oath and violating them ends its effects immediately. For the duration the oath lasts, the vampire treats her motley-mates as if she has Twice-Removed Blood Sympathy towards them. The changelings, for their part, feel nothing of this bond. Werewolves Werewolves are dangerous and violent beings but give weight to notions of honor and the swearing of oaths — somewhat putting the lie to fairytale fears of the Big Bad Wolf. Because of this, the Lost often find they can work with the Uratha for at least short periods of time, but it is exceedingly rare for a motley to bring a werewolf into their number. This isn’t due to any particular antipathy, but because werewolves feel strong, instinctive urges to form their own packs — and while these packs can be inclusive, with humans and even changelings in their ranks, a motley just doesn’t feel the same to an Uratha. When it does happen, inviting a wolf into the ranks is often because the werewolf is an outcast or exile from her people, or because there aren’t surviving packs in the area due to conflict or disaster. The Wyrd will not recognize a werewolf who takes a motley’s oath, meaning the fae pledgecraft has no hold on her, nor offers any mystical benefit. However, a werewolf can have her oath recognized through an Elodoth’s Binding Oath instead (Werewolf: The Forsaken Second Edition, p.119), albeit with its limited duration. The symbolic power of the Great Predator that boils within Uratha craves to separate this from that, to define those with the werewolf and those not of her pack, and it recognizes something in the mutual purpose of a motley into which it can sink its teeth. As well as the usual effects of Binding Oath, it allows the werewolf to consider the motley as her pack for its duration. Awakened The obsessions and magic of the Awakened make it hard for changelings to ever trust a mage. The sheer power of Supernal magic allures Lost willing to entertain any means of reaching their ambitions or to fight the Gentry, but few mages find belonging to a motley interesting as anything other than a learning experience, slumming it with the fae in the hopes of gaining some eldritch insight. Those who do find a trusted place with the Lost often seek escape from the tension and intricacies of Awakened society. In rare cases, mages lost friends to the Gentry while still Sleepers, and seek to find and reunite with them after Awakening to power. Mages can’t usually partake in the oathsworn power of a motley pledge, but they can use a combination of Fate and Mind magic to overcome this and interact with the fae sorcery at work. Such mages can forge and sever bonds with relative ease. Awakened who want to skip out on the consequences of breaking oaths find the Wyrd itself unforgiving. Using Arcana to remove the Oathbreaker Condition spares the mage immediate retaliation — but the Wyrd does not forget. It conspires to bring about the balance through other means, thrumming through the threads of hobgoblins’ pacts and the oaths of other Lost. A mage can see this conspiring tapestry of connections in the world around her with her Mage Sight. No matter how quickly she severs the new bonds that spring up and tie Hedge denizens or other fae forces into destinies set to cause her misery, those ties continue to proliferate until she pays her dues to the Wyrd. Prometheans Prometheans face often-contradictory reactions from changelings. A Lost can sympathize with much in the Created condition, but also a disturbing similarity to the false seeming of fetches and other such fae simulacra, which can be painful for a motley to contemplate. Their own rambling nature and the rigors of Disquiet push Prometheans to find only brief solace among even a welcoming motley before moving on, but it can serve as an excellent opportunity for a Created to explore and observe the strange, altered humanity of the Lost up close and, perhaps, come to understand themselves a little better in the process.

Found Family and Desperate Alliances 137 Prometheans cannot usually swear to a motley pledge. Rumors of rare exceptions suggest a Created whose body includes parts taken from a dead changeling might be able to swear into the motley to which that Lost belonged, an utterly macabre but lingering connection that the Wyrd might deem just genuine enough. Sin-Eaters Reborn from Bargains with their deathly patrons, SinEaters find a certain affinity with the pledges and oaths of the Lost. A surprising number fall in with changeling motleys, seeing a sort of kinship in their common experiences and newfound power. While some Sin-Eaters are surprised to find Hedge ghosts are not the same as the unquiet shades with whom they usually concern themselves, it’s in these phantasmal tatters of personality and memory that some Bound learn how to join themselves more fully with a motley. Normally, a motley oath would not affect a Sin-Eater swearing it. However, one of the Bound may conduct an altered version of the Krewe Binding Ceremony by including a changeling’s Icon as the working’s target while drawing on the memories and passions within that Icon to shape her own performance as the actor. She folds the swearing of the oath into the ceremony; if successful, it allows her to swear into the motley under the Wyrd’s auspices, with all the resulting benefits and consequences, rather than its usual effect. Demons Changelings sometimes welcome demons into a motley without realizing it. The Unchained are experts at blending in behind stolen or fabricated Covers, after all. It’s extremely rare for a demon to join a motley whose members know what she actually is, both because her bizarre nature and powers are ready fuel for Lost paranoia, and because doing so represents a likely unacceptable risk to her own concealment from the prying eyes of the God-Machine. As such, an Unchained in a motley is likely a cuckoo, using the Lost and the Wyrd as temporary protection before moving on once more. Only a few remain for the long term and forge real friendships with the Lost — and even then, the day will inevitably come when they have to sever those connections and move on, leaving no word nor clue as to where they have gone. If the Cover the Unchained uses should be able to swear a motley’s pledge, the demon can spoof the capability and seal the oath with a point of Aether. The immense demonic knack for concealment causes the Wyrd to weigh the pledge against the Cover; if the Unchained breaks the pledge, the consequences fall on her only until she discards or changes Cover, though they reassert themselves if she returns to that Cover later. Beasts Changelings who understand the association between Beasts and nightmares can find the Begotten deeply disturbing, but these creatures are talented at insinuating themDark Histories and Contagious Futures The historical settings in Dark Eras and Dark Eras 2 provide several examples for mixing the Lost with the denizens of other game lines in the Chronicles of Darkness. Dark Eras covers changelings and SinEaters in Three Kingdoms of Darkness, and changelings and vampires in Requiem for Regina. Dark Eras 2 covers changelings, vampires, and hunters in Arthur’s Britannia, changelings and Prometheans in The Seven Wonders, and changelings and mages in Mysterious Frontiers. The Contagion Chronicle, meanwhile, offers the resurgence of a modern-day threat in the form of the Contagion, a metaphysical corruption against which the denizens of the Chronicles of Darkness must band together to survive. Notably, Mysterious Frontiers details the specific spell a mage can use to participate in Wyrd-bound oaths — although the Awak- ened cannot initiate a pledge — and covers the deleterious consequences for the use of Fate magic that accompanies the Oathbreak- er Condition. Arthur’s Britannia includes the Blood Liege and Contracts of Night and Day Merits, a fusion of Invictus Oaths and Lost pledgecraft. selves into the societies of others, and the Lost are no exception. A Begotten might come into a motley because the changelings believe her to be a fusion of human and dream who needs help and protection, or simply because her raw power makes her an appealing ally against the fae. Beasts possess a wide variety of capabilities to let them interact with and pass as changelings but cannot pledge to a motley oath. While perhaps kindred to the dreaming magic of the fae, the powers of nightmares do not conform to its strictures, and the Wyrd remains beyond a Begotten’s grasp. Mummies Mummies never pledge themselves to changeling motleys. Rarely, a motley belongs to an Arisen’s cult, but the chasm between the Lost and the jealous shackles of the Judges binding these beings is too great for the Wyrd to bridge. Even attempting to speak a motley’s pledge invites a clash of dangerous and volatile powers, for the eldritch words the Arisen recite to wield their utterances are antithetical to the Wyrd’s force of reciprocity — the Judges are never willing to give up something to gain something else.

138 Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather Safe and Sound Changeling: The Lost Second Edition contains tools for keeping a table safe, with the intention that the Storyteller enforces those rules. With or without them, however, players can practice personal safety at the table as well. Saying No One of the hardest things for a changeling to do is say “no.” Learning and practicing refusal is excruciatingly difficult; the Lost were berated, coerced, and lured into their roles as servants of otherworldly powers. Learning that saying “no” to someone doesn’t automatically result in punishment or unintended consequences is a long, hard road. The same can be said for players. Most players want to assist in developing a story, and sometimes do so to their own detriment. Commonly, players clam up in situations where characters experience sexual coercion, mind control, or other events that make them uncomfortable, as they don’t want to rock the boat for the Storyteller or the other players. Inattentive Storytellers might take this as a sign she is open to her character going through similar exploitation in future games, and this can spiral out of control until tempers flare and feelings get hurt. Saying “no, I’m not interested in that plot” or “no, that makes me uncomfortable” can be as difficult — but just as necessary — as leaving a Keeper’s domain. While Changeling explores themes of trauma and abuse, it’s still just a game; that exploration is meant to be safe, accomplished through a veil of fiction and fantasy. Playing a game should be fun for everyone involved, and saying no is a critical part of making sure everyone has fun. If a player character doesn’t fit the story, it’s also okay to steer the story toward writing them out and replacing the character, so long as the player is all right with that. Changeling: The Lost is a dangerous game, and a character could die or be snatched at any moment. Of course, she could just as easily go off to become the monarch of a new freehold, far away. Whatever works best for the troupe. If you are uncomfortable with something, say “no.” If your fellow players also have the safety of the table in mind, they’ll thank you. Saying Yes Saying yes can be challenging as well. Changelings and their players are sometimes loath to engage fully, for fear of reprisals. If I say “yes” to someone, does that mean he will push me? Am I allowed to change my mind? What if she thinks I’m desperate? The truth is that hearing someone say “yes” to an offer is a gift. “Yes” means you like what she’s doing, that you want her to continue. Saying “yes” to plots you like means both your Storyteller and other players know what you enjoy and may create or invite you to interact with similar plots in the future. Saying “yes” also opens up play options for other people. Going on a Hedge jaunt that involves stealing Hedge fruit from a hobgoblin? Let your Helldiver buddy tag along. Including other people in your scenes makes for a happier table. Saying “yes” also makes building characters who gel with each other a whole lot easier. Ask your fellow players to build connections. Do you frequent the bar another player character owns? Is her fetch married to your sister? Come up with reasons for your changelings to be in a motley, the more dramatic the better. You might just discover a story together that neither of you would have created alone. Saying Anything Volunteering to be a Storyteller takes a lot of time and effort. Your Storyteller cannot read your mind and needs to be able to manage a full table of players. It’s unlikely she can consider your preferences in her plans unless you tell her how you want to be included. Work with your Storyteller to establish boundaries (see “Safe Hearth, Safe Table,” pp. 302-304 of Changeling), but also let them know what you want to see. Don’t keep your sheet, Aspirations, or backstory ideas a secret from your Storyteller! While it might seem like a good idea to avoid getting them targeted by plot shenanigans or to surprise the table with something dramatic at the right time, no one can craft a story for a character with whom they’re unfamiliar or a player whose expectations they don’t know. Horror games, especially Chronicles of Darkness games, shine in a collaborative framework, and working together means more devilishly personal plots for everyone. Note that while players should work together as much as possible, characters don’t have to. Negotiate antagonistic relationships between the players’ characters as much as possible so a player caught unawares doesn’t wind up with feelings of hurt or exclusion. See p. XX for an optional system you can use to adjudicate these relationships between individual characters. For an optional system for structured inter-motley conflict, see Oak, Ash, and Thorn starting on p. 9. The Door Is Still Open As discussed in Chapter Seven of Changeling, the door is always open. It can be hard to leave a session or a game for any number of social reasons. Players (and yes, this includes the Storyteller!) don’t need to justify themselves if they feel the need to stop playing. Here’s a list of some possible reasons: • Your Storyteller or other players deliberately ignore the safety techniques you all agreed to use • You have a family or other emergency • You feel ill or panicky • Your Storyteller or other players use name-calling, threats, or extended arguments to force you into situ-

Safe and Sound 139 ations you don’t want to be in, either out of character or in an in-character way you’re uncomfortable with • You’re not feeling it • Your schedule or stress levels make the game more difficult to attend or less fun for you • You have a prior engagement or need to leave early • You are uncomfortable with anything, in or out of character • You don’t feel this is the experience you signed up for New Safety Option: Player Profiles It may seem like an odd choice to make character sheets for players, but when everyone at the table has different preferences, why not make a quick reference? M. Lee and J. Harrison created a series of systematized player profiles for the LARPs they run. These easily translate to tabletop and can be kept in a file-share system or on the back of character sheets. A good player profile should contain the following: • Name • Pronouns • Character name • Character pronouns • Personal triggers or necessary content warnings • The kinds of experiences I want my character to have • The kinds of experiences I want my character to avoid • How to make me feel included as a player Sample Player Profile: Big Ben Clifftop • Name: Alex Steacy • Pronouns: He/him • Character name: Big Ben Clifftop • Character pronouns: He/him • Personal triggers or necessary content warnings: Trypophobic imagery, animal death • The kinds of experiences I want my character to have: Being a big softy, being in a slow-burn romance with someone he struggles to communicate with, protecting other members of the Spring Court from outside threats, bringing new changelings into the Liberty Bell Freehold • The kinds of experiences I want my character to avoid: Being a villain because he’s a big scary dragon, having to kill innocents to get at a True Fae, selling his soul at a goblin market (though I’m okay with him incurring other Conditions!) • How to make me feel included as a player: Ask my character for help! Big Ben Clifftop is very strong and well-trained in a lot of Physical Skills, so being a wellmeaning meatsack would be fun for me. Also, try to convince Big Ben to flirt with his crush (TBD, depends on negotiation with other players).

140 Appendix: New Conditions BEHIND YOUR EYES Clarity disintegration renders a changeling easily manipulable, leaving them wide open to subversion. A Hedge ghost, hobgoblin, or — worst of all — one of the Gentry invades the changeling’s mind. The invader can’t read the changeling’s thoughts, but it shares her senses whenever it likes. She’s aware of a mental itch deep down, but she can’t place it until the Condition resolves, and she realizes how much she gave away. If this Condition came about through mild Clarity damage, resolving another Clarity Condition forces the visitor to retreat from the changeling’s mind. If it came about through severe Clarity damage, only the shock of accidentally betraying herself and her motley ends the Condition. Possible Sources: Reaching Clarity 0 Resolution: The character regains Clarity or takes an action that reveals an important secret to the visitor, recovering a point of Clarity as usual. In the case of severe damage, the only way to resolve this Condition is for the changeling to reveal a secret. Any other Clarity Conditions she resolves during this time increase her Clarity as usual, but they do not resolve Behind Your Eyes. CURSED (PERSISTENT) A vengeful changeling has burdened your character with a curse, which only resolves when the changeling either stops maintaining a particular routine or performs a particular action. If your character brings about the changeling’s failure to maintain the curse, directly or indirectly, gain an additional Beat when this Condition resolves. If the changeling’s player dramatically fails on a roll directly related to attempts to maintain the curse, the changeling suffers this Condition with all the criteria and caveats of the original, where they make sense. If they don’t — for instance, if the ill effects don’t apply to changelings — then the Storyteller assigns applicable consequences as close as possible to the curse’s original intent. A character may only have one instance of Cursed at a time. Beat: Your character suffers a significant setback directly due to the curse. Resolution: The changeling fails to maintain the required state of affairs or perform the specific action as defined when she places the curse. DEEP KENNING Your character’s newly bolstered Clarity grants abrupt flashes of insight, allowing her to discover nearby magic. You may shed this Condition at any time to gain information about nearby supernatural phenomena as if you had rolled kenning with successes equal to half her maximum Clarity. Unlike normal kenning, resolving this Condition permits a Clash of Wills against active magical concealment. This Condition fades without resolving if the character drops to Clarity 0. Possible Sources: Heal Clarity damage by resolving a Clarity Condition or spending time with a Touchstone. Resolution: As noted above.

Behind Your Eyes - Icon Shard 141 EGOMANIAC Without Clarity, the changeling acts as though she resides in Arcadia, mimicking the True Fae’s boundless egotism. She fails to comprehend the needs and desires of others and displays qualities she subconsciously learned from her Keeper, leading her to fulfill her own desires at everyone else’s expense. Any Social roll your character fails automatically becomes a dramatic failure that does not grant a Beat. As well, Joy replaces her current Needle and one of her Keeper’s Aspirations replaces one of her current Aspirations until the Condition resolves. Possible Sources: Reaching Clarity 0 Resolution: The character regains Clarity or her actions cause serious harm (physical, mental, or emotional) to her allies, regaining a point of Clarity as usual. In the case of severe damage, the only way to resolve this Condition is for the changeling’s actions to harm her allies. Any other Clarity Conditions she resolves during this time increase her Clarity as usual, but they do not resolve this Condition. ENCHANTED OBLIGATION Your character has made an enchanted bargain with a mortal, providing fae miracles in exchange for safety and peace of mind. This Condition duplicates the effects of the Obliged Condition (Changeling, p. 343), but is not Persistent. In addition, while the enchantment lasts, the mortal can automatically see through the Mask of all fae beings and objects unless strengthened with Glamour. Your character gains the ability to hear the mortal whenever they call him by name and ask or wish for aid, no matter the distance between them; the changeling has no obligation to respond to the call. His player gains a +3 to rolls to harvest Glamour from the mortal. The changeling’s half of the bargain requires using fae magic to aid the mortal in some dire task or in escaping a dire situation the target couldn’t otherwise handle themself. He can invoke Contracts or use his seeming or kith blessings on the mortal’s behalf, give them tokens and clearly explain their catches, or any other type of fae magic he possesses; however, he may not simply perform the task or rescue the mortal themselves. They must utilize the magic on their own and rescue themself. The mortal’s half requires following a specific and strict rule or willingly laboring under a particular limitation. For instance, they may accept a curfew by which they must be inside their home and stay there until sunrise, or a rule forbidding them to deliberately tell any lies. If the changeling solves the mortal’s problem himself, this Condition ends without resolution or granting a Beat. It likewise ends if either party takes on another enchanted bargain while this one remains in effect; enchanted bargains accept no competition. If the mortal doesn’t achieve the task or escape they bargained to accomplish by the end of one full chapter, it also fades without resolution. The enchantment’s effects are obvious to those who know how to look for them. Anyone who can see through the Mask simply perceives the supernatural obligation the mortal carries without a roll or other contest. The player of any character who previously noticed the enchantment gains +4 to locate or track the mortal by any means. This magical trail carries distinct tells revealing the changeling’s identity to anyone who has previously seen his Mien; if they see it afterwards, they recognize it instantly. Resolution: The mortal accomplishes the task or escapes the situation they made the bargain to achieve, or either party fails to uphold their end of the bargain, triggering consequences for one or both. When this Condition resolves, the changeling’s player and the mortal’s each earn a Beat. HEXED A spiteful changeling has temporarily inconvenienced your character. If the changeling forbids the action required to end the hex, this Condition does nothing until your character takes that action and resolves it. The consequences last for one chapter thereafter. If the changeling sets a quest as the required action which breaks the hex, your character suffers its effects until the quest’s completion. As a pledge, the Wyrd itself negotiates the hex, not with the victim. If the changeling sabotages her own hex, for example by accidentally or deliberately enabling your character to break it, they suffer a detrimental temporary Condition of the Storyteller’s choice. A character may only have one instance of Hexed at a time. Resolution: Your character takes the action the changeling specified when she placed the hex. ICON SHARD (Persistent) Your character broke her word sworn on her Icon. Doing so has infused the Icon with the Wyrd’s wrath, giving it a semblance of life. A changeling’s Icon is a part of her soul; as such, the Icon shard becomes a rough imitation of her darkest and most sinister thoughts and urges. The Icon shard acts as a semi-sapient doppelganger with the sole purpose of tormenting the changeling for breaking her word.

142 Appendix: New Conditions Icon shards count as hobgoblins (Changeling: The Lost, p. 252) with a Wyrd rating equal to the changeling’s; use the rules given for creating goblins to give the shard traits and powers, all of which should in some way reflect its origins. Instead of a Virtue or Vice, the shard has a Needle and Thread, chosen as dark mirrors of the changeling’s. It gains Aspirations in direct opposition to the changeling’s Needle and Thread and uses them to disrupt the changeling’s life. For example, a changeling with a Protector Needle finds her doppelganger attacking the people she loves; her Friendship Thread causes the shard to focus on ruining all her relationships. The Icon shard targets only the changeling and those connected to the changeling (if doing so serves the purpose of tormenting her). If she kills the shard rather than reintegrating it, she destroys it forever, losing access to the memories and Clarity it once brought, constituting a Clarity attack with a dice pool of four. Beat: The Icon shard’s actions impair or hurt the changeling or someone she cares about, or actively prevent her from gaining Willpower through her Needle or Thread. Resolution: The changeling must kill the Icon shard or make up for breaking her word. If she made a vow, she must complete it or fulfill its terms. If she made an oath, she must reconcile with the others involved to their collective satisfaction. The others involved in the pledge may exonerate her wrongdoing by resealing the pledge in blood. Everyone involved must suffer one lethal damage and spend a single Glamour to reinstate the pledge’s bond. If she cannot reconcile the oath — perhaps the other parties died, for example — then the changeling must reconcile with the Wyrd instead; this should be the focus of a story, and the particulars are up to the Storyteller. When this Condition resolves, the Icon integrates with her immediately, unless she destroyed it. INDEBTED A fae being performed a service for your character and owes them something in return. Mundane tasks aren’t enough; the Wyrd enforces this debt. The character can repay it by accepting damage, a detrimental Condition, or a detrimental Personal Tilt intended for the being to whom the character is indebted. The character’s player chooses which of these he suffers; if he chooses damage, the character must take all damage from a source, not part of it. He cannot take on Clarity Conditions or Conditions he couldn’t normally suffer this way. The Wyrd alerts him to all his debtor’s perils his until this Condition resolves, and he doesn’t have to be in their vicinity to resolve it. This Condition can also be Persistent. If so, your character owes a debt he can’t repay as easily. In addition to the usual effects, he earns a Beat whenever his debtor makes a request or demand of him, and he fulfills it without rolling to resist. The Persistent version of Indebted can only resolve when the character performs a major service for his debtor, such as saving their life or risking danger to bring them something they desire. Resolution: Repay the debt, as above. Beat (Persistent only): Fulfill a request or demand the debtor makes without rolling to resist. KITHSEEKER (Persistent) Your character undertakes an ordeal in the Hedge to seek a kith that matches her soul’s calling. During the ordeal, she must face five trials, each of which comprises roughly one scene. Her motley and others can help her, but if someone else resolves a trial for her, she refuses to engage with a trial, or she leaves the Hedge, the Condition ends without resolution. Resolution: The character overcomes five trials and gains a new kith. Beat: The character endures significant adversity or learns something new about herself as part of a trial.

You can’t predict a changeling by their kith. We’re not so easily defined. But we are connected to others who fashioned themselves the same way. You meet another Playmate’s eye and know you share something no one else can understand. In a way, you’re kin. This is the Lost struggle. Did They take me apart so thoroughly that putting me back together rearranged the pieces entirely? Am I what they made me to be, or can I decide my own shape? The bad news is you’ll never find an answer you’re satisfied with. The good news is you don’t have to wrestle with this stuff alone. They wanted to fit you into a mold, but people aren’t like that. This struggle is what separates us from Them. — Red, Darkling Playmate Kith and Kin is a companion book to Changeling: The Lost Second Edition, expanding on the core book. It contains: • A deep dive into the return from Arcadia, including details about the BriarNet, the Wishing Roads, and the Lunar Freehold, as well as additional options for Touchstones and Clarity • Expanded changeling powers, including new Regalia and Contracts, Regalia manifestations, expanded pledgecraft, and rules for the fae sympathetic magic known as dramaturgy • A vast selection of new kiths, as well as options for playing kithless characters and acquiring a kith in play • Advice and options for motleys: example motley oaths, a new type of Hedge ghost which feeds on those oaths, and structured motley conflict, as well as a discussion of forming motleys with non-changelings — other fae creatures, mortals, and other supernatural creatures as presented in other Chronicles of Darkness games