Changeling - Players Guide.pdf

that a "world pulse" beats below the Dreaming itself, and that
this pulse can be found running through the best music. The
"style" of music doesn't matter — commitment, not form,
provides the link. From time to time, mortals listening to
really potent rhythms or melodies can hear it faintly, and
draw inspiration from the sound. Music, they say, unlocks the
passions we all live by; it's only natural, then, that the satyrs
are the masters of song and dance.
Goats have an affinity for music; even in their seemings,
they express themselves in song. No satyr is completely tunedeaf;
some could give Pavarotti a run for his money, while
others fiddle like the Devil himself. It may take a while for a
satyr to find her specialty, but not one of them lacks musical
talent. When the changeling awakens, she'll find that affinity
has grown to a powerful channel: the Gift of Pan. Her music
may have stirred others before, but now it unleashes emotions
few may resist.
Hard living breeds hardiness, and satyrs are living proof.
Such is their intensity that few things can slow them down.
A drinking binge that could floor a redcap leaves the satyr
slightly giddy. Their legendary speed derives from their goatish
legs and ready tongues. A satyr who can't outrun the brute
he's just insulted won't live for long; one who can't dance
without tiring will never keep up with her fellows.
The least tangible but most treasured satyr Birthright is
wisdom; by knowing themselves, they understand life. This
doesn't have any game effects, but comes across in the way a
satyr acts. A childling makes rash misjudgments; a wilder
seduces anything in sight just to prove he can (and gets shot
down in the process); by the time a grump attains his greater
wisdom, he may choose partners without making a fool of
himself. Although younger goats feel a bit sorry for their
elders' lack of impulse, they still go to them for advice when
a problem can't be solved by a roll in the hay or a rude gesture.
Satyrs love debate. A quick mind and a head for facts (or
at least for good lies) are able traits, and a quick wit is essential
for improvisation. Goats have always prized secrets, too; anyone
who can fill them in is worth at least a song or two. As
much as they love to learn, though, most satyrs scorn "book
knowledge." To them, you must live life in order to understand
it. "Dust bunny" is one of many insults satyrs have for scholars.
Because they experience so much in their lifetimes, old satyrs
become cherished teachers. Many fae seek them out to instruct
childlings in life's more "worldly" aspects. An old goat may not
be as much fun as a wild ram, but he's got many stories to tell
and can attend parties without turning into an ass.
Even the wisest satyrs are an intemperate lot, however.
Passion's Curse is never far below goats' skins; their mood
swings make movie stars seem stable. When angry, they rage;
when depressed, their songs could make stones weep. When
they're on a bender (which they frequently are), satyrs act out
in style — swinging from chandeliers, punching trolls, groping
nockers where the sun don't shine. Other fae tolerate this
behavior for a while (especially it they can join in without being
noticed), but eventually get fed up. The ejection of the satyrs
from a party often spells the end of the evening. Till then,
everyone has a hell of a time — so long as the satyrs are happy....
Organization
"Organized chaos" is a better word for satyr society.
Goats have a really hard time with rules; those who make
them break them quickly. Bonds of friendship are far more
important. Leave politesse to the stuck-up sidhe!
Romance and the Single Satyr
New acquaintances are a novelty, and satyrs treasure
novelty. Most goats make friends, lovers and enemies very
easily. However uncouth and unattractive a satyr may be, he's
often a charming fellow, assuming he likes you. You know the
drill: "Hail-fellow-well-met-good-to-see-you, buddy-let'sdance,
sweetheart-you-look-ravishing-tonight." Effusive as
they may be, these earnest greetings are genuine — goats are
honest to a fault. If one likes you, he'll fall all over himself to
prove it. If he doesn't, his insults could peel paint (and
sometimes do).
This honesty is quite often the most attractive thing about
a satyr; many people, especially the vain sidhe, find such
attentions irresistible. For a while at least, satyrs become
compelled by anyone who catches their fancy. One might
compose sonnets, bring flowers or hang on every word from his
beloved as if it were honey. Love's games, anticipation and
consummation are like whiskey to satyrs — hot, heady and raw.
Hatred, too, can be fun. If the goat dislikes his new
acquaintance, he'll compose satires instead of sonnets, and
the flowers he brings her may be dead. Heaping abuse is
almost as much fun as wooing. The problems that can arise
from either task should be obvious. No threat or wisdom will
keep the goat from speaking his mind one way or the other.
You'll never have to second-guess a satyr.
Goats are fickle, however. The moment a new and
interesting star appears in his sky, the satyr will be off chasing
it with the same abandon. Here's the downside of a satyr's
affections: the intensity rarely lasts. He may still care for his
earlier love, but his ardor mellows to friendship. Few people,
mortal or otherwise, can stand such "rejection," and enemies
rarely forget the taunts they suffered. The goat soon finds
himself alone until someone new comes along. Thus, he finds
it's easiest to trust others of his kind. They, at least, understand!
Hence, the strongest bonds a satyr knows belong to his
tragos. Come what may, these bands stick together.
Roughly translated, tragoidia means "goat song." As the
name implies, these satyr bands find unity in music. They may
not be able to stand each other when the tunes end, but while
they play, these bandmates are blood-kin. Tragos form unconsciously,
as if the music in their hearts draws them
together. Attempts to bring such bands together on purpose
often fail. Something's always missing. As time goes on, the