A Fey Squire (Author: GamermanZendrelax)

Eyes like old, worn, gold coins stare back up at you. They are surrounded by a sharp, shallow, pale face, and that in turn by long, off-white hair that falls just past your shoulders. Your ears are long, poking through your hair. But not like an elf. You could not be like an elf, because the elves are younger, they are the ones who take after your…

Your people. Yes, that’s right, your people. You are one of the Sidhe, the courtiers and nobility of the realm of Faerie. In that land, your kin partake in food and drink unending. They make art and sport of light and glory. They dance with words and duel with promises. Your people are creatures of ancient magic and everlasting splendor.

You are very, very far from home.

This cave you dwell in was a far cry from the glorious courts of the myriad Archfey. The pool beside is not wine, and the food you scavenge is not an eternal feast. And while you make use of your silver tongue where you can, those thrice-damned Heroes are often not disposed towards talking.

Looking down at yourself, you’re wearing a long, heavy jacket. It is armor, of a kind. So thick, with so many layers of fabric, that metal doesn't cut through easily. Gambeson, that's the word for it. The front splits just beneath the waist, where you have it belted, and the hem is just above your knees when you stand, giving way to your pants from underneath, which in turn end in your boots. Each of these look like,a very long time ago, they might have once been fine. Your gambeson looks like, a very long time ago, it might have once been blue.

You lean back, and the tip of your scabbard, affixed to your belt, scrapes against the ground, and you look around your paltry little home. The only things that stand out are the small pool beside you, a pile of tattered blankets you use as a bed, the sarcophagus in the center of the room, and some roots sprawled down the back wall.

…Sarcophagus?

You stand, slowly. The fog that lays upon your memory is thick. But memory has changed—you just read that a moment ago, though you are not certain just what the gods have done to it.

You find yourself walking over to the sarcophagus. There are glyphs cut into its surface, curved and swooping and elegant. You… you don’t remember what they say, exactly. You remember having known, once, but that was so very long ago…

Cave. Sarcophagus. Barrow. This is a barrow. Someone had taken the original cave and cut it deeper to make room for this sarcophagus, making it a barrow for whoever lay inside. And you live in their barrow. There is a reason why. You screw your eyes shut, and reach desperately back into distant memory.

The fog is dense. So much is hidden and lost. But you knew, once.

But even if that is beyond you, for now, there are other things that are not. With a flick of your wrist, you call up your Character Sheet. And as you review its contents, they fall back into their places in your memory.

Level 5 Sidhe Squire

Fey, Noble, Explicit

Experience to level up – 500

Attributes

Strength 18; Dexterity 25; Endurance 19;

Charisma 36 +0; Manipulation 25; Appearance 33;

Perception 26; Intelligence 27 +0; Wits 23;

Skills

Athleticism 25

Dodge 17

Lore 10

Melee 25

Presence 27 +0

Occult 19

Ride 10

Crafting (Ethereal) 5

Feats

Wisdom of the Ages – You gain a constant, passive bonus to your intelligence based on the time since your last .

Bend Beneath Iron – As one of the Fae, you have a weakness to certain materials, and weapons with certain material types deal extra damage to you. Iron weapons have a 1.5x damage bonus, and weapons made from iron alloys like Steel have a 1.2x damage bonus. If they have the Cold-Forged subtype, they have a 1.3x damage bonus, which stacks. Additionally, materials with both the Iron type and the Cold-Forged subtype deal burn damage to you for as long as you’re touching them.

Fabled Truth – Your kind are famously unable to lie, but you are still able to twist the truth into very interesting shapes. You suffer from an irreversible magical compulsion which prevents you from saying something you know to be false, but you gain a {Fame / 20} bonus to Charisma and Presence. But be wary, Heroes may be discerning regardless…

A Bargain, Made – As one of the high-born of Faerie, you are able to make magically-binding oaths, pacts, bargains, and contracts with other creatures. If you do, you suffer from a magical compulsion to fulfill your end of the agreement. May the gods help any fool who does not give you the same courtesy…

A Name, Spoken – All things have a True Name, which is the bedrock of their identity. There are few who consciously know their own, and they resemble spoken language only distantly. As one of the Highborn of Faerie, if you can learn something’s True Name, you can use it to great effect…

Spells Known

Lesser Glamor – You can create a small illusory sound or image within {Occult} feet of you. Others will be convinced it is real unless they’re Perception is greater than your Charisma. If they become suspicious, they may use Perception to investigate against your Charisma to determine the truth, and may receive a bonus depending on environmental factors.

Ah, yes, iron. Across your many deaths, you have learned that iron is not only effective at wounding you, but also incredibly painful. And seeing as the region you live in tends to be frequented by lower-level Heroes, there are precious few who don’t wield it. And those who don’t bear iron have a tendency to set you on fire instead—which doesn't precisely kill you faster than other magic, but it isn't exactly pleasant.

All that assumes you can't get them talking, of course. You're geared more towards that than combat—or, perhaps talking to them in the middle of a fight, but thus far that only had middling success. Especially if you can wrangle a promise out of them, or a bargain, and really start to build up some Fame. That would let you start weaving a proper plan. But even then, whatever progress you make is wiped away by unrelenting , which devours your Fame until you languish in anonymity once more.

As you ruminate on this, your eyes glance back over your Character Sheet again, and… Ethereal Crafting? That is definitely new. But you had an idea of what it might be. That word describes otherworldly, glorious things. Your mind rolls back to the patch notes from earlier. The details had been sparse, but there had been mention of Monster Lairs. You don’t have the resources to replicate the wonders of Faerie, but if you can claim someplace for yourself, in Truth and Name…

Claim. The patch notes had mentioned Claimant Crystals. You aren’t entirely sure what those are—as usual, the patch notes had been written for the players first, and to the Pits with everyone else—but it is a potentially promising lead.

You glance back down at the Sarcophagus. You may call this place home, but it isn’t truly yours. Not yet.

It’s a goal to strive for, which is not something you’ve had in a very long time. Your heart swelling with new purpose. You set out from the barrow’s crumbling mouth.