It was about 2am in East Dallas. Roxie was sitting on the front steps of an two story apartment building, waiting. She loved summer nights. The heat was a welcome escape from the cool temperatures of her Lord Conor’s Demesne. How he enjoyed such chill and was yet Summer Court, she’d never understand.
She was on her own time now, he had dismissed her for the day, and she wanted to speak with another Changeling. She wasn’t sure if he would walk this way or another, and she wanted to not miss him. However if he’d already gone past…
“Hey Chiquita, whatchoo doin’ out here at night eh?”
With a roll of her eyes she glanced over at the speaker. It was a muscular Hispanic twenty-something in a white “wife beater” tank top and jeans hanging low on his hips.
There was a colored cloth of some kind indicating affiliation, but she had no idea what that meant. He was shaved bald and had a scraggly growth of facial hair impersonating a goatee.
“Sitting.”
He was strutting like a rooster. He took came up the stairwell several steps. “Damn girl…” he whistled, “… you fine.”
“Thanks.”
The rooster was now moving behind and making appreciative sounds. He then came back into her peripheral vision on the other side of the stairs. “You don’t need to sit out here in the heat. I got some cold cervezas in my crib. We could go up, kick it, have a party the two of us?”
“No thanks. I’m fine here.”
“Yeah you are fine.” He then reached out and touched her golden hair.
“Don’t do that.”
He let go of the lock of her hair like it was diseased. “No need to be that way girl, I was just complimentin’ you!”
“I appreciate it, but I’m okay out here alone. I like the heat and you’ve got cold cervezas waiting for you.”
He said something unpleasant in Spanish but walked away. She did hear “bitch” fairly clearly. Well it was clear this particular mortal was cut from a very familiar, very flawed mold.
She waited another ten minutes when suddenly she heard a shoe scuffle behind her very nearby. She just turned when rough hands grabbed her from behind.
In the struggle she saw Mr. Cold Cervezas and one other. “Hey sweet thing, no need to struggle, We jus’ goin’ to a party.”
Roxie suddenly stopped moving, the change was jarring enough they removed their hands from her mouth. Though they still had her grabbed tightly. “I am one of the Sidhe…you intend nothing untoward or improper with me?” Roxie had adopted a faux ‘innocent and sweet’ voice as she posed the question.
The two goons looked at each other, laughing. The original goon spoke up, “She what? She smokin’? She bangin’? Yeah that’s right blondie, we’re gonna be perfect gentlemen.” He then suddenly jumped as if bitten. “Ya! What the ####?” He looked behind him, his compatriot also, wondering what was going on.
Roxie laughed, there was nothing innocent or sweet about the sound. “You just lied to one of the Sidhe.” Then she vanished right out from their grasp.
The two gang bangers looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.
Suddenly the muscular goon with the wife beater started spasming, “What the? Get them off me! Get them off me!” He then switched to Spanish.
His companion was speaking to him, trying to understand what was going on. It appeared that Mr. Cold Cervezas was trying to squash invisible bugs on his flesh. He started ripping off his clothing, shouting <Ayúdame!> over and over.
His friend freaked out as lights started coming on in nearby apartments, “Come on man, quit ####### around!”
Roxie’s voice came out of the darkness, “You are not the only predator that walks around at night monkey. Thy soul is full of holes. Oathbreaker… violator… murderer…”
That was too much for the other gang banger, he fled at a rate that would probably have won him a bronze medal.
“Ahhhh!” The remaining thug screamed as he gouged grooves into his own flesh with his nails from all the scratching. He then ran towards a nearby tree, smashing himself into it. “They’re digging in! Ahhhh! Help me!”
Again a voice came out of the dark, “That way! Wash them off with water!”
“Water? What water?” He turned, bleeding, towards the direction. “A pool!” Then he took off at a dead run towards the road. There was no pool.
The blue 2001 Geo Metro didn’t have enough mass to kill him, but it certainly knocked him several feet when it made contact.
She let down her Veil that covered her hiding place near the hedge. By this time, tons of spectators had come outside. Several were on their phones calling for police and an ambulance. One mentioned something about, “Bath Salts.”
The one she was waiting for finally arrived. He had walked on by all the commotion and on up to his apartment.
Earlier she had leapt directly to this balcony from down below – up two stories – to wait. Roxie had been watching the flashing lights of the ambulance and police, so she saw him arrive. Eventually the apartment’s lights came on.
She let go of her Veil and rapped smartly on the sliding glass door.
“Cheezus! Who’s there? I’m warning you, I got a gun!” She heard a commotion from inside the apartment.
“Mac it’s me, Roxie.”
The sliding vertical blinds parted and a slightly overweight pudgy faced looked out the glass door. “Oh.” Roxie noted he was not carrying a firearm.
The apartment dweller parted the blinds and opened the sliding door, stepping out onto the balcony. “How you been Rox? Long time, no talk.”
“I’ve been well. Havest thou heard about the High Noble that I now serve directly?”
Mac nodded, “Aye.” He looked down at flashing police lights. The ambulance had long ago driven off. “Wow what happened there?”
“A lesson.”
He looked at Roxie and shivered a little bit.
She smiled, "Did I hear correctly through various sources that M’lord Conor and his compatriots assisted thee with a delicate matter some time ago?"
The male Fae suddenly looked glum, “Aye. Where’d you hear that?”
"Relax Mac, I don’t represent any mortal authorities. Though Lord Dallas has made me Steward over his Demesne at present."
Mac sighed, “Come in Roxie, let’s discuss inside.” He turned around and walked back into his apartment.
Roxie entered as well, closing the glass door behind her and pulling the blinds shut. “Would you like me to assist with thy Veil?”
Mac looked incensed for a moment then, “…actually… yeah. I, uh, never learned how to do all that.”
After a moment they were both confident that nothing could be easily seen or heard of their conversation.
“Can I get you a drink? Mortal or otherwise?”
“Otherwise. I’ve had enough mortal food these past weeks, I’m craving something with a more subtle flavor. What do you have?”
Mac grinned, turning to his fridge. He pulled out ceramic bottle, stoppered with a cork. He grabbed a tumbler and poured out the contents. The entire room was filled with a silvery light as the liquid flowed.
“Real moonshine?!”
“Yep. Remember that ‘super full moon’ just after the Summer Solstice? I was out all night distilling a few bottles.” Mac handed the shining glass to Roxie.
She took a deep drink, allowing the beverage to make her skin luminous. Mortals talk about “glowing skin” but really have no idea. “This is nectar most sweet. Do I detect a subnote of live oak?” She then licked her lips. “and young love?”
“I always appreciate a connoisseur. You do. I gathered it at a park, up a live oak tree. There were many young lovers that night enjoying the moon.”
She sighed, “Oh this is so good Mac. It’s been a while since last I savored the work of a true Summer’s craftsman.”
She said nothing, enjoying her drink for a minute. The magic of the beverage caused her mortal visage to drop away. Roxie appeared as a pointy eared elf, though her height didn’t change much. Her beauty didn’t change much either, though it did shift to the exotic and unearthly.
Mac, a Changeling of Cobb heritage (though he cared more about food than shoes), grabbed himself a beer.
“Mac, come into M’lord Conor’s Household.” She set down the now empty glass.
“Ah, down to business at last.” Mac said nothing, taking the tumbler and cleaning it as a bartender might. “I’m not really big on the idea of giving my feal Oath to the Ducal Court, Roxie.”
"I know Mac. But Summer you are, and thy direct leige would not be the Duke, but a Changeling you already know and who has already done thee greater service than ever did His Grace."
Mac sighed, “Why should he care? We haven’t even talked in over a year except once when he came by to check on me when I reopened. The affairs of Cobbs do not concern Sidhe Earls like him; Changeling or otherwise…or you for that matter. I know you to be of the Summer Gentry.”
“I am, he is, but you know he cares in his own way. He stayed independent of Summer to protect the Wyldfae from the Duke, and he accepted his title for the same reason. It’s simply his way Mac. Also, he did not send me. I am here as his Steward to discuss a vacancy in his Household.”
“What vacancy?”
“Kitchen Master or Head Chef, whichever title you would prefer.”
“Why would I want that? I have my own business.”
Roxie looked around the apartment, It was tiny and barely furnished. For all the apparent poverty, it was clean (Mac was a Cobb after all), though it could hardly be considered comfortable. Actually most of the furniture appeared to be…
“Mac, did you buy any of these furnishings or is it all stuff you picked up off sidewalks?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He looked around his place. “Besides, the previous owners didn’t need it anymore. They threw it away. It was fair game.”
“True. Though technically none of these things are thine.”
He snorted. “I’m still mortal for now, they’re mine. Finders keepers.”
Roxie nodded, “Point. M’lord Conor has established a Demesne of his own. His memories and passions were sufficient to create one of great size and beauty. He has graciously offered a place in his household for those that will swear to him.”
He grunted, “Sounds nice. Why me? You also didn’t answer my question, why would I want a job?”
“How old are you now Joseph MacDonald of Sherman, Texas? Did you have any success at the bar tonight?”
He knit his eyebrows. “Pushing 60, why? And the other is none of your business. Dammit answer some questions elf!”
Roxie laughed. She held up her right hand, a tiny red ball, about the size of a jawbreaker candy (specifically an Atomic Fireball) appeared. It caught fire and she twirled it around her fingers.
“Sixty summers, never married. No children. No prospects. Never learned to use Glamour. Never enjoyed true wealth. You battle other mortals daily for every penny you earn by placing thy hands inside a giant smoker that burns you because it’s made of The Bane… and you live amidst the squalorous leavings of others to show for it.”
Mac opened his mouth as if to retort, instead going back to his Budweiser.
“And yet, you’ve a touch of magic within thyself. It flows from thee in thy food, both mortal and Fae crafted. You’ve grasped enough of Courtly politics to ally thyself with Summer, and yet have done such in so general a manner as to sacrifice little of thy autonomy. You’re on the cusp of greatness, Mac. Come the rest of the way.”
“You mean let go of Mortality.” he sipped his beer again, not looking at her.
“What has Mortality ever done for you?” She looked around his apartment. “Everything that has ever thrilled you and given you joy has involved being Fae.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He looked at the burn scars on his hands and forearms – partially from flame, partially from the iron used to make his commercial meat smoker. That would be the same smoker that had once held a human body. He’d never eaten his own cooking in the restaurant since that day nearly two years ago.
Roxie looked at him, extinguishing the fireball. “Mac… you made a wine from Midsummer’s moonlight… common Mortals can’t do that. You are already greater than they can ever know.”
He exhaled slowly, “What must I do?”
“Nothing significant tonight Mac. Simply come with me to m’Lord’s Demesne and behold the realm. Perhaps select a chamber of thine own. Look, see, then decide at thy leisure. If you think you would enjoy thine place of honor within the Earldom; give thy Feal Oaths to Lord Dallas. He’s thy friend Conor after all, not The Duke.”
Mac nodded.
“And bring thy Summer Wine Joseph MacDonald… I know a young maiden Cobb with a love for flame-kissed BBQ and cow leather. She is of good family, recently made her Choice, and has Oathsworn to Lord Dallas. I could introduce you if you wish.”
He picked up the bottle, “I would love that! Thank you milady!”
Roxie grinned, “No no Mac, just Roxie. I am not thy Lady.”
She didn’t vocalize the rest of her thought
…at least… not yet.
She was on her own time now, he had dismissed her for the day, and she wanted to speak with another Changeling. She wasn’t sure if he would walk this way or another, and she wanted to not miss him. However if he’d already gone past…
“Hey Chiquita, whatchoo doin’ out here at night eh?”
With a roll of her eyes she glanced over at the speaker. It was a muscular Hispanic twenty-something in a white “wife beater” tank top and jeans hanging low on his hips.
There was a colored cloth of some kind indicating affiliation, but she had no idea what that meant. He was shaved bald and had a scraggly growth of facial hair impersonating a goatee.
“Sitting.”
He was strutting like a rooster. He took came up the stairwell several steps. “Damn girl…” he whistled, “… you fine.”
“Thanks.”
The rooster was now moving behind and making appreciative sounds. He then came back into her peripheral vision on the other side of the stairs. “You don’t need to sit out here in the heat. I got some cold cervezas in my crib. We could go up, kick it, have a party the two of us?”
“No thanks. I’m fine here.”
“Yeah you are fine.” He then reached out and touched her golden hair.
“Don’t do that.”
He let go of the lock of her hair like it was diseased. “No need to be that way girl, I was just complimentin’ you!”
“I appreciate it, but I’m okay out here alone. I like the heat and you’ve got cold cervezas waiting for you.”
He said something unpleasant in Spanish but walked away. She did hear “bitch” fairly clearly. Well it was clear this particular mortal was cut from a very familiar, very flawed mold.
She waited another ten minutes when suddenly she heard a shoe scuffle behind her very nearby. She just turned when rough hands grabbed her from behind.
In the struggle she saw Mr. Cold Cervezas and one other. “Hey sweet thing, no need to struggle, We jus’ goin’ to a party.”
Roxie suddenly stopped moving, the change was jarring enough they removed their hands from her mouth. Though they still had her grabbed tightly. “I am one of the Sidhe…you intend nothing untoward or improper with me?” Roxie had adopted a faux ‘innocent and sweet’ voice as she posed the question.
The two goons looked at each other, laughing. The original goon spoke up, “She what? She smokin’? She bangin’? Yeah that’s right blondie, we’re gonna be perfect gentlemen.” He then suddenly jumped as if bitten. “Ya! What the ####?” He looked behind him, his compatriot also, wondering what was going on.
Roxie laughed, there was nothing innocent or sweet about the sound. “You just lied to one of the Sidhe.” Then she vanished right out from their grasp.
The two gang bangers looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.
Suddenly the muscular goon with the wife beater started spasming, “What the? Get them off me! Get them off me!” He then switched to Spanish.
His companion was speaking to him, trying to understand what was going on. It appeared that Mr. Cold Cervezas was trying to squash invisible bugs on his flesh. He started ripping off his clothing, shouting <Ayúdame!> over and over.
His friend freaked out as lights started coming on in nearby apartments, “Come on man, quit ####### around!”
Roxie’s voice came out of the darkness, “You are not the only predator that walks around at night monkey. Thy soul is full of holes. Oathbreaker… violator… murderer…”
That was too much for the other gang banger, he fled at a rate that would probably have won him a bronze medal.
“Ahhhh!” The remaining thug screamed as he gouged grooves into his own flesh with his nails from all the scratching. He then ran towards a nearby tree, smashing himself into it. “They’re digging in! Ahhhh! Help me!”
Again a voice came out of the dark, “That way! Wash them off with water!”
“Water? What water?” He turned, bleeding, towards the direction. “A pool!” Then he took off at a dead run towards the road. There was no pool.
The blue 2001 Geo Metro didn’t have enough mass to kill him, but it certainly knocked him several feet when it made contact.
She let down her Veil that covered her hiding place near the hedge. By this time, tons of spectators had come outside. Several were on their phones calling for police and an ambulance. One mentioned something about, “Bath Salts.”
The one she was waiting for finally arrived. He had walked on by all the commotion and on up to his apartment.
Earlier she had leapt directly to this balcony from down below – up two stories – to wait. Roxie had been watching the flashing lights of the ambulance and police, so she saw him arrive. Eventually the apartment’s lights came on.
She let go of her Veil and rapped smartly on the sliding glass door.
“Cheezus! Who’s there? I’m warning you, I got a gun!” She heard a commotion from inside the apartment.
“Mac it’s me, Roxie.”
The sliding vertical blinds parted and a slightly overweight pudgy faced looked out the glass door. “Oh.” Roxie noted he was not carrying a firearm.
The apartment dweller parted the blinds and opened the sliding door, stepping out onto the balcony. “How you been Rox? Long time, no talk.”
“I’ve been well. Havest thou heard about the High Noble that I now serve directly?”
Mac nodded, “Aye.” He looked down at flashing police lights. The ambulance had long ago driven off. “Wow what happened there?”
“A lesson.”
He looked at Roxie and shivered a little bit.
She smiled, "Did I hear correctly through various sources that M’lord Conor and his compatriots assisted thee with a delicate matter some time ago?"
The male Fae suddenly looked glum, “Aye. Where’d you hear that?”
"Relax Mac, I don’t represent any mortal authorities. Though Lord Dallas has made me Steward over his Demesne at present."
Mac sighed, “Come in Roxie, let’s discuss inside.” He turned around and walked back into his apartment.
Roxie entered as well, closing the glass door behind her and pulling the blinds shut. “Would you like me to assist with thy Veil?” Mac looked incensed for a moment then, “…actually… yeah. I, uh, never learned how to do all that.”
After a moment they were both confident that nothing could be easily seen or heard of their conversation.
“Can I get you a drink? Mortal or otherwise?”
“Otherwise. I’ve had enough mortal food these past weeks, I’m craving something with a more subtle flavor. What do you have?”
Mac grinned, turning to his fridge. He pulled out ceramic bottle, stoppered with a cork. He grabbed a tumbler and poured out the contents. The entire room was filled with a silvery light as the liquid flowed.
“Real moonshine?!”
“Yep. Remember that ‘super full moon’ just after the Summer Solstice? I was out all night distilling a few bottles.” Mac handed the shining glass to Roxie.
She took a deep drink, allowing the beverage to make her skin luminous. Mortals talk about “glowing skin” but really have no idea. “This is nectar most sweet. Do I detect a subnote of live oak?” She then licked her lips. “and young love?”
“I always appreciate a connoisseur. You do. I gathered it at a park, up a live oak tree. There were many young lovers that night enjoying the moon.”
She sighed, “Oh this is so good Mac. It’s been a while since last I savored the work of a true Summer’s craftsman.”
She said nothing, enjoying her drink for a minute. The magic of the beverage caused her mortal visage to drop away. Roxie appeared as a pointy eared elf, though her height didn’t change much. Her beauty didn’t change much either, though it did shift to the exotic and unearthly.
Mac, a Changeling of Cobb heritage (though he cared more about food than shoes), grabbed himself a beer.
“Mac, come into M’lord Conor’s Household.” She set down the now empty glass.
“Ah, down to business at last.” Mac said nothing, taking the tumbler and cleaning it as a bartender might. “I’m not really big on the idea of giving my feal Oath to the Ducal Court, Roxie.”
"I know Mac. But Summer you are, and thy direct leige would not be the Duke, but a Changeling you already know and who has already done thee greater service than ever did His Grace."
Mac sighed, “Why should he care? We haven’t even talked in over a year except once when he came by to check on me when I reopened. The affairs of Cobbs do not concern Sidhe Earls like him; Changeling or otherwise…or you for that matter. I know you to be of the Summer Gentry.”
“I am, he is, but you know he cares in his own way. He stayed independent of Summer to protect the Wyldfae from the Duke, and he accepted his title for the same reason. It’s simply his way Mac. Also, he did not send me. I am here as his Steward to discuss a vacancy in his Household.”
“What vacancy?”
“Kitchen Master or Head Chef, whichever title you would prefer.”
“Why would I want that? I have my own business.”
Roxie looked around the apartment, It was tiny and barely furnished. For all the apparent poverty, it was clean (Mac was a Cobb after all), though it could hardly be considered comfortable. Actually most of the furniture appeared to be…
“Mac, did you buy any of these furnishings or is it all stuff you picked up off sidewalks?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He looked around his place. “Besides, the previous owners didn’t need it anymore. They threw it away. It was fair game.”
“True. Though technically none of these things are thine.”
He snorted. “I’m still mortal for now, they’re mine. Finders keepers.”
Roxie nodded, “Point. M’lord Conor has established a Demesne of his own. His memories and passions were sufficient to create one of great size and beauty. He has graciously offered a place in his household for those that will swear to him.”
He grunted, “Sounds nice. Why me? You also didn’t answer my question, why would I want a job?”
“How old are you now Joseph MacDonald of Sherman, Texas? Did you have any success at the bar tonight?”
He knit his eyebrows. “Pushing 60, why? And the other is none of your business. Dammit answer some questions elf!”
Roxie laughed. She held up her right hand, a tiny red ball, about the size of a jawbreaker candy (specifically an Atomic Fireball) appeared. It caught fire and she twirled it around her fingers.
“Sixty summers, never married. No children. No prospects. Never learned to use Glamour. Never enjoyed true wealth. You battle other mortals daily for every penny you earn by placing thy hands inside a giant smoker that burns you because it’s made of The Bane… and you live amidst the squalorous leavings of others to show for it.”
Mac opened his mouth as if to retort, instead going back to his Budweiser.
“And yet, you’ve a touch of magic within thyself. It flows from thee in thy food, both mortal and Fae crafted. You’ve grasped enough of Courtly politics to ally thyself with Summer, and yet have done such in so general a manner as to sacrifice little of thy autonomy. You’re on the cusp of greatness, Mac. Come the rest of the way.”
“You mean let go of Mortality.” he sipped his beer again, not looking at her.
“What has Mortality ever done for you?” She looked around his apartment. “Everything that has ever thrilled you and given you joy has involved being Fae.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He looked at the burn scars on his hands and forearms – partially from flame, partially from the iron used to make his commercial meat smoker. That would be the same smoker that had once held a human body. He’d never eaten his own cooking in the restaurant since that day nearly two years ago.
Roxie looked at him, extinguishing the fireball. “Mac… you made a wine from Midsummer’s moonlight… common Mortals can’t do that. You are already greater than they can ever know.”
He exhaled slowly, “What must I do?”
“Nothing significant tonight Mac. Simply come with me to m’Lord’s Demesne and behold the realm. Perhaps select a chamber of thine own. Look, see, then decide at thy leisure. If you think you would enjoy thine place of honor within the Earldom; give thy Feal Oaths to Lord Dallas. He’s thy friend Conor after all, not The Duke.”
Mac nodded.
“And bring thy Summer Wine Joseph MacDonald… I know a young maiden Cobb with a love for flame-kissed BBQ and cow leather. She is of good family, recently made her Choice, and has Oathsworn to Lord Dallas. I could introduce you if you wish.”
He picked up the bottle, “I would love that! Thank you milady!”
Roxie grinned, “No no Mac, just Roxie. I am not thy Lady.”
She didn’t vocalize the rest of her thought
…at least… not yet.
Since this is an NPC her Benny/Milestone information will be tracked on her sheet rather than in campaign postgames
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