Changeling - Players Guide.pdf

are executed with impressive precision. Rivalry among corbies is
fierce, as each corby seeks to inspire grislier ballads and garner
ghastlier mementos. Some corbies have existed for centuries,
through dozens of incarnations; these corbies have their own
legends, banners, trophies, heroes and other historical dross.
Status among redcaps is garnered by a host of accomplishments.
First and foremost is the ability to instill terror. Redcaps—
at least the Unseelie ones — gain most of their Glamour through
nightmares, and the ability to induce dread is a vital component
of redcap logistics. Redcaps also earn points among their peers by
displaying the ability to endure and inflict excruciating pain. In
general, the more a redcap is talked about and the less a redcap is
talked to, the greater her status. Like all fae, redcaps enjoy stories
and honor peers elevated in tales or songs. The only difference is
in the types of tales and songs redcaps prefer to feature in.
As a rule, redcaps are indifferent to freeholds, preferring to
Ravage mortals or "Reverie" Glamour from mortals' nightmares.
However, certain redcaps — those who have proved their toughness
and savagery many times over—declare themselves "lairds."
Redcaps often become lairds by forcibly occupying a sidhe free-
Stereotypes
hold. Redcap lairds comprise some of the most odious tyrants in
mortal or fae history, but redcaps often follow strong lairds,
preferring the brutal rule of a fellow kith to the aegis of the sidhe.
Of course, any laird, no matter how tyrannical, can be
usurped. Lairds must periodically reaffirm their right to rule by
taking on meritorious challengers in single combat. (A challenger
must be deemed worthy; uppity whelps who sass their
betters may be summarily beaten by the laird's guards, with no loss
of face accruing to the challenged party.) The battle is, naturally,
to death or incapacitation. The winner is crowned (or recrowned)
laird; the loser gives up his flesh for the ruler's coronation feast.
Even more dreaded than the lairds, however, are the
fimmrach, redcaps who specialize in the Arts and Realms. Few
redcaps have the aptitude or brains to become fimmrach, but
those who do often become fiendishly powerful, able to exert
terror in ways unimaginable to their warrior kin. Even the most
battle-hardened redcap quails at the thought of a centurieslong
fimmrach curse. The most powerful fimmrach, the
witch-kings or hag-queens, often rival the sidhe's mightiest
sorcerers and rule over vast demesnes of blighted, miasmal land.
The stereotypes below represent an outlook inherent to the Unseelie Court. Seelie redcaps, you see, learn very quickly
to keep their mouths shut.
Boggans
Aw, is'm scairt? Izza wittle boggan afwaid of da Big Bad
Wedcap? Yer knees are shakin' like Gooshy-Gooze, boy!
Don't want weak knees, do ya, toothsome? Well, then, let
me an' my crowbar here just help you fix 'em....
Eshu
Been there, done that, these eshu. Like to see the world,
go anywhere — hell, go everywhere at once. Me 'n' my boys
helped out a globetrottin' eshu the other night. Started talkin'
'bout ever'thin' she's seen, ever'thin' she wants to see. Figured
it weren't right that she could only be in one place at one time.
So we got our Kawasakis and faced 'em in six different
directions and riveted a piece of her to each bike and then we
drove off. Ain't we just friggin' Samaritans?
Nockers
Leave just enough of'em alive so they can build ya the
tools to go kill everything else. And I don't care what you've
heard about them bein' good vittles — all the nockers I've
ever et have given me either constipation or diarrhea.
Pooka
Like my daddy useta say: "A pooka what got no tongue
can't lie." And don't throw it away after you've extracted it;
ground up, it makes fer some really tasty sausages.
Satyrs
One-track minds, these. Their brains are in their
crotches. Kinda fun to lobotomize 'em, if ya catch my drift.
Sidhe
Tightasses who think their shit don't stink. Nothin' a
properly inserted circular saw blade can't fix.
Sluagh
Tough an' stringy an' bitter, with a bite like mushrooms
that've been growed in shit too long. Marinade 'em
first, ya should be all right. Just make sure ya cut their
glands out first, so their bile don't pizen ya, like a slimy
puffer fish or somethin'. And for Nightmares' sake, kill all
their kin! I trow, hearin' that scratchin' at the foot o' yer
bed and that sickly whisper about how they're gonna
getcha when ya sleep — 't's enough to turn yer cap white,
it is.
Trolls
Hamstrings, hamstrings, hamstrings! Fun part is, once
ya got 'em helpless, they're so big and tough that they can
take anything ya throw at 'em for weeks. Kinda like a giant
pinata. An' then, when yer done playin", oh, the chili ya
ken cook with the leavin's...