An old theatre house with multiple stages that is almost entirely overgrown and abandoned. The theatre house was becoming too expensive to keep in service and fell to the wayside once the prohibition had gone in full effect, the bar is the only thing truly keeping the theatre house open before the ban occurred. Though publicly this run-down building is no longer in use, it is in fact now being used by changelings as a Freehold. Cynthia finds this particular site to be of importance because it opened her eyes to the wider menagerie of Sisterhood when Cynthia and Monica first brought Genevieve here. Cynthia didn't fully understand just quite what the Kithain were or what they were hiding from but Monica made sure to lecture her plenty on keeping their location a secret to all but the highest-ranking Furies.
The Withered Facadé is a freehold whose business changes depending on which court is in power.
Spring
When the Spring Court is in power throughout the course of the year, the Changelings focus on peddling desirable products for the mortals of Port City, giving and receiving alcohol distilled by the Freehold. Their specialty is the 'Adam Cider' and 'Eve Wine', often selling them to middlemen who then sell these drinks to the various Mobs and Speakeasy/Shebeens across Port City.
Summer
The Summer Court's period of power is one of warfare and attrition, using the money the Freehold earned from Spring to fund assaults against those loyal to the insane Kings and Queens of the Fae, sometimes even launching incursions into the Hedge to trade with Hobgoblin markets. Once these incursions are over they bring back their spoils of war from the Fae and sell-on the weapons they used to fund the Autumn rule, though this means during the summer there is an increase in illegal weapons being sold to the gangs and mobs of Port City.
Autumn
The Autumnal rule is used for researching any stolen artifacts or magicks from the Fae during the Summer's rule, this time of rule being used to grow fruits and tend to relicts from the Fae, though some of these may be sold off to interested supernatural parties, the most powerful artifacts, fruits, and magicks are often kept to themselves.
Winter
The Winter ruling time is used as a way to completely remove evidence of their Freeholds presence in Port City, ensuring to their absolute best that no loyalists or beasts from the Fae come knocking at their door... Though these measures are mostly preventative and this they keep a secret. The Winter mostly goes about doing maintenance on their security procedures and spies in the Fae, so that if any trouble does come looking, the Freehold can prepare and if necessary call for assistance from any potential allies.
Areas of particular note:
The Provider Tree
The Provider Tree is a tree grown in the center of the largest stage room of The Withered Facadé, which was now a glave of grass and bushes, a large twisted tree standing in the center of the room, each branch curling and twisting in a different direction producing a full set of leaves and a variety of different fruits. The Provider Tree grows more than a singular fruit, each branch producing a different kind, though the selection on offer changes every year. Anybody who visits The Withered Facadé is prohibited from eating the fruit picked from the tree unless they are a Changeling.
The Provider Tree is the source of the flavours used in the Adam Cider & Eve Wine, often touted as giving the consumer an 'increased sense of vigor'. The Provider Tree is guarded with fanaticism, nobody unaccompanied by a Kithain with permission to access the Tree is allowed in the same hall, let alone near the entrance to the Provider Tree.
Facadé's Grove
Facadé's Grove is another room that was turned into a small forest-like area, filled with chairs and even a rough make-shift fountain, this is the place where any none-Kithain visitors must wait for their person of interest to meet them. If the business isn't important enough some visitors may never see the deeper parts of The Withered Facadé.
The Witches' Tit
The brewery for Adam Cider & Eve Wine, this boiler-room was repurposed to fit the necessary equipment for producing the Spring Court's alcoholic goods. Bottles of the Cider and Wine are also stored here in fridges, using what power could be sapped from local power supplies.
Freehold Courts
Member of Note Bartholomew "Brewer" Chambers Shooters Bargain & Fair EntranceChangeling, Brewer, Glamour of Brief RepairWizened of the Son of the HearthSummer Court
Originally from the early 1700s, Bartholomew Chambers is the oldest member of The Withered Facadé freehold and one of the few changelings to remain in Port City after the fall of the Freehold that came before it back in 1860. Before his life as one of the Kithain, Bartholomew was a monk in service of the Catholic Church at a monastery at the foot of the Cheviot mountain. It was during one early morning Friday prayers that the Fae had kidnapped the monk and brought him to the insane creature that would rule over him for the next hundred years.
Bartholomew was mocked and belittled for his spiritual beliefs, mocked and starved by those loyal to his Keeper, eventually succumbing to the madness of the Fae himself. Bartholomew had at one point in his life been involved in the brewing of wine for the church, using this knowledge to perfect his Keeper's brewery, where his keeper selfishly indulged in the liquid delights. The longer his Keeper divulged in the treats of liquid bliss, the more access Bartholomew gained to the eternally summer vineyards and their obscure Fae plantlife.
Bartholomew's escape from his keeper came at an opportunity, having clung to his rosary as the last reminder of his life before, and now with the exit in sight, the Wizened changeling took off under the blistering heat of the Summer's sun gaze. By the time his Keeper realized what had happened, Bartholomew was already crawling out of the henge and on to the forests outside Port City.
Bartholomew refuses to speak about what befell the Freehold that existed in Port City before The Withered Facadé, some theorize he was kicked out and that the Freehold never really fell, others suggest that Bartholomew was the only survivor of an attack from his Keeper while some speculate a Freehold never existed before The Withered Facadé. In Port City, at-least.
Despite not being a member of the Spring Court, Bartholomew took the lead and worked with the Spring fae in order to turn old rooms into forests and groves, using soil from the Hedge to grow the Provider Tree, his Spring accomplices picking the fruit of the tree, which he then uses to create products in the Witches Tit.
Bartholomew is a 5'8" tall, pale blue man with an impossibly slim physique. The Wizened changeling is bald with a thick beard that he has braided into submission with his rosary, the crucifix hanging out the tip of his facial hair. There is no sign of hair on the top of Bartholomew's head, including eyebrows; Where there used to be a nose instead lies a slight bump with two small slits for nostrils.
Bartholomew isn't thrilled to hear about Garou knowing the location of The Withered Facadé. Bartholomew wishes to have the Garou banned from entering the Freehold, but lacks the sufficient influence to make such a drastic change happen.
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.
Summer Court While we will continue to help fund their little excursions into Faeria, they like to think they're taking the fight to the True Fae, to the Keepers; In all reality, all they're doing is stealing from the cookie jar and freeing the occasional Faeria slave.
Autumn Court They like to play with their artifacts and toy with the magic the Summer court stole, but they don't have a clue about what they're doing. These fools could bring about the end of the Freehold and not even realize it, how long until they open a gateway for a Hedgebeast? How long until they set off some kind of flare for the Keepers? Or worse, formally welcome a true fae into the world? The only things we should be keeping are the seeds and tokens. The rest should be left where it was found.
Winter Court The Winter Court is nothing if not conspiratorial, but unlike those imbeciles of the autumnal court, they know exactly what kind of magic they're playing with and they know the precise ins-and-outs of the necessary wards and protections... Exactly why they're in the perfect position to betray us, should they ever get a good enough deal to do so.
The Garou One does not unleash a rabid dog into a public daycare for the carnage and pain it would bring about to all those involved, so why should we allow a ravenous wolf into our flock of sheep? These beasts can barely keep themselves in check, there are wildcards and then there are werewolves.
Little Sparrow
Changeling, Manikin, Blessing of PerfectionElemental of the Sundown EyesSummer Court
Little Sparrow was taken by the fae when she was four years old, Sparrow can't remember enough of her life before being dragged through the Hedge to pinpoint what year she was pulled from Gaia. Sparrow's keeper used her for a number of reasons: A lure for humans marked for servitude by the Keeper, a mannequin to model clothes off of, a model for a lunatics painting.
Sparrow's child physique was ideal for her Keeper's art and tailoring use, so she was contorted and warped into a body that didn't age, though mentally and socially she continued to mature thanks to the older Kithain she often worked or shared quarters with. There came a point after twenty years of life spent in the Keeper's servitude that Sparrow's child-like body wasn't the ideal subject of her Keeper's artistic vision, instead of changing her physical appearance, however, the keeper opted in favor of kidnapping a model from Gaia and exposing her to the same treatment she gave Sparrow.
The keeper simply threw Sparrow to the hounds, finding a source of entertainment in watching their hounds chase what was once the object of her artistic desires through a maze, laughing at the fading hope each time the hounds dragged Sparrow back to the Keeper's feet. Sparrow's Keeper stopped laughing the day she escaped through the Hedge and to Port City.
Sparrow spent her first two years attempting to kill her Fetch and retake her life, but this attempt failed miserably when she finally managed to assassinate her Fetch without realizing that unless the proper precautions were taken her family and friends would consider her to be deceased. Sparrow had accidentally ended her own life in the eyes of what could have been her friends and family, a "break-in gone wrong" as the police report put it. The sticks and stones that had become the corpse of her Fetch were buried in a grave with what should have been her name and epitaph.
Sparrow spent the next year wandering from place to place, avoiding recapture by staying on the move.
Little Sparrow was around the age of 30 when she arrived at Port City though still physically a ten-year-old mannequin. Sparrow was unable to find any genuine work and often found herself playing look-out for the various mobs around the city, which is how she got the name 'Little Sparrow'. It was due to these further complications of her childlike appearance that Sparrow began to grow a hatred for the Keepers and those loyal to the Fae, stealing handguns and shotguns from the Mobs she worked with in order to learn how to shoot and maintain firearms.
During one of Sparrow's training sessions on the outskirts of Port City, a changeling from the Withered Facadé found her and the two began talking, soon meeting semi-regularly to teach Sparrow how to shoot and even basic lifestyle skills such as cooking and tailoring. The changeling who found Sparrow took a liking to her and raised the subject of inducting Sparrow into the Freehold with the leaders of each Court, the leader of the Summer Court agreed to take Sparrow in.
Now Little Sparrow serves as a quartermaster of sorts, maintaining, repairing, and even building weapons and tools for use in assaulting the Fae during the Summer Courts rule. Little Sparrow also oversees the equipping of the garrisoned Kithain who watches and guard the Withered Facadé all-year-round. Sparrow will work for anybody in the good graces of the Summer Court, on the condition they pay in her both money and tobacco for her pipe.
Sparrow neither likes or dislikes the Garou, though she is one of the many people in the Summer Court who have expressed interest in trying to broker an alliance with one of the tribes, however, most of the Kithain are against this due to the nature of the Garou's rage, often quick to acknowledge that while the Garou would help greatly in defending the Withered Facadé, their rage is a substantial liability.
Little Sparrow's glamour looks like a 10-year-old red-haired pale-faced girl. Beneath her glamour, however, is a visage that some might consider monstrous: A marble mannequin with a featureless face save for two obsidian, lifeless eyes. Seams are visible on her body and small wires can be seen pulling at her wrists and between her elbows and knees. Sparrow has no visible mouth, though she is still capable of talking, consuming food, drinking, and smoking her pipe.
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.
Spring Court They do good work when it comes to producing the Adam & Eve drinks, they even taste pretty good too. The problem with them though is that they're real chumps. They can't tighten the screw on a situation when it's necessary, hell, our pal's in the Springers will barely even get into a situation where they could even consider tightening the screws.
Good money makers, bad allies.
Autumn Court If I had a dollar for every time they said: "This could revolutionize how the Freehold functions!", I'd be the richest person in Port City. They've done some good work with Tokens, but there's only so many times a new Kithain can use the Cracked Mirror to spook their Fetch. If they were able to replicate the effects of a bang-ribbon, that'd be another story.
Winter Court They're secretive and keeping secrets makes it hard for us to protect the Freehold from physical threats. It's not like we're uneducated about all these Wards and sigils, it's just... Well, how do we know a bullet we fire through the window isn't going to fly right back at us?
The Garou These guys have the right idea, if something's causing problems, get mad and get at it. Fix whoever needs fixin' and tear the bud of the problem out of the ground. I like them, even if we can't really tell where their allegiance lies.
Member of Note Angel Velez
Changeling, Gargantuan, Might of the Terrible BruteOgre of the Withering GlareAutumn Court
Angel was from a large family who migrated to the US to avoid debts his father had accrued with a cartel, thinking this would keep him safe from immediate repercussions. Angel's father was in one respect, correct, however, what he didn't know was the man sent to collect his debts would instead drag his oldest son into Faeria. Literally.
Angel spent his 20's being torturously enlargened by his Keeper and forced to build extravagant castles and lodgings for the true Fae, who never used what was built. Angel's body was grotesquely large and his muscles were barely contained by his skin, sometimes even tearing his skin when lifting anything of excessive weight. Fifteen years went by before Angel saw signs of hope that he'd be able to escape when one time his Keeper was visiting the construction of a statue in his own honor. Angel dropped several boulders on his Keeper before fighting his way out of the scene and into the Hedge, tearing through vines and thorns alike.
Angel returned to Gaia and immediately began to search for his family, soon discovering that after he was taken to the Fae, his family were murdered at gunpoint for his Father's refusal to repay his debts. Angel was both enraged and fearful of this turn of events, he had returned to a world where there was nobody for him and nothing for him to live for, why bother?
Angel resorted to crime as his source of income to feed his necessities: Food and water. The Ogre had no care for shelter, he wasn't bothered by the elements and nobody was strong enough to face him down on the streets... Though one night while looking for an alleyway to sleep in, he came across an illegal fighting ring and entered as a participant. The supernatural strength in his body was all he needed to break his opponents neck in one harsh punch. Pistols were unholstered and knives were pulled out as Angel's opponent fell to the floor, though thankfully one particularly well-dressed man stepped out from the crowd and offered him a job.
The job was to sell packages for people working out of an abandoned theatre, simple enough, nobody seemed to care for trying to undercut or backstab someone when one of their guys had a reputation for breaking bones. It wasn't long before the true nature of the Withered Facadé was revealed to Angel, who quickly took to it like some kind of protector. Angel would never confess to it, but he is terrified that one day a stronger Loyalist changeling might come and drag him back to his master, a thought so terrifying it haunts his every dream.
Angel strongly disapproves of any involvement with the Garou, believing the Autumn court is strong enough to handle selling contraband and booze on top of protecting the Withered Facadé, an opinion that is only held by those in the Autumn Court.
Angel appears as a short-haired Spaniard with unkempt facial hair and brown eyes, his lip cracked and nose twisted to suggest it was at one point broken. Beneath his glamour, however, Angel is gargantuan with a face that wouldn't be lost on a gorilla and muscles that threaten to tear through his skin at any given moment.
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.
Spring Court They make the goods and we make sure the people buying them pay up or end up en el cementerio. If they keep producing the Adam & Eve booze, we'll be financially safe. Por un momento.
Summer Court Pendejos Locos, these crazy chumps think they're good enough to fight the Fae on their turf. I think they're estúpido, but they clearly believe they're the only ones protecting the Freehold. I don't see them out on the street, getting shot at for trying to broker deals or sitting on the stairs and in the windows with guns for hours at a time. They don't protect us as we do, they endanger us.
The things they bring back? Vital assets. The effects of their tokens do wonders for our security teams. If only we could figure out how to create our own though.
Winter Court Creepy bastards, it's like they never left Faeria; Magic and doodles everywhere, they often ask for access to the Tokens we're using and researching, but we know if they get their hands on them then we'll never get them back.
The Garou Werewolves? Protecting us? That's gracioso, they can barely protect themselves. The Autumn court doesn't need an alliance with flea-ridden perras, the Freehold needs a strong baluarte and that's us.
Member of Note Warden Hollow I & Hollow Amenities IVChangeling, Mirror Skin, Boon of the Scuttling SpiderDarkling of the Winter Court
Warden is another one of the few changelings left from the previous Freehold, his time spent in Faeria was nothing short of a living nightmare with horrors around every corner and dangers in every nook. Warden only survived his time in Faeria because he was attentive enough to find the crannies between the horrors and the dangers, smart enough to keep his head low and feed after the creatures in the dark ate, consuming what they did not.
Warden remembers not what brought him to the Fae, but only that he was taken there as punishment for a transgression, a transgression he doesn't know the details of. A transgression that any singular person could break at any time.
Warden was able to find his way back to Gaia by following the trails of would-be changelings who were not attentive enough to survive in the crannies, to feed on what the beasts left behind until eventually, he found his way to a clearing which had a stain-glass window in the center of its field, on the other side was the skyline of Port City. Warden seized his opportunity and ran to the center of the strain-glass window, jumping as high as he could and crashing through the panes, glass flaying the skin from his bones and his muscles clinging to the darkness that engulfed him.
Warden awoke in a trashcan in Port City, his skin an impossibly dark black, as though his skin had been infused with shadow itself. Warden's skin didn't react to like, in fact it seemed more like his skin consumed the light, pulling it into his form and holding it hostage in some unfathomable prison within the Darklings body. The now-free Darkling spent many years impersonating people with his contract for financial gain to survive until eventually, he came across his first Freehold... When that Freehold fell, he was a participant in the formation of the Withered Facadé, using his knowledge of the Fae and shadow to conceal the Withered Facadé from the eyes of would-be threats.
Warden is one of the few Changelings in The Withered Facadé who is confident in his stance of the Garou - advocating for an agreement between a Tribe and the Withered Facadé, regularly discussing the benefits of Garou and Kithain partnerships. Power of the Wyld with the rage of Gaia's protectors, what could possibly be a greater defense?
This particular changeling appears as a different person to everyone thanks to his glamour, though beneath this shifting mystical mask is a featureless man, with an inexplicable 'hollow' look to him. The skin of Warden's body is pitch black and devours sources of light, which only makes him appear darker than reasonably possible.
Warden's Hollow is a small apartment that is fashioned to look like an office, it has a small functional kitchen complete with a Minor Magical benefit for those who drink from thisstone fountain built into a desk in the center of the Hollow. On the wall behind the desk is a large circular stain glass window frozen in time as it The shards are frozen as they were traveling outwards from the Hollow and are now suspended in the air, playing soothing music for all who enter the Hollow.shatters outwards into black nothingness.
.
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.
Spring Court I can't deny the efforts of the Spring Court to produce their Hooch and the amount of money it brings in has been an indefinite help to our cause, it's entirely thanks to their product that we legally own the property of the Withered Facadé, but their cowardice will be the undoing of their own work.
Summer Court The Summer Court jumps to violence far too quickly, they're hot-headed and rarely spend more than three seconds thinking about a problem, they spend even less time thinking about the solution to it - nine out of ten times it's simply capping someone or something.
The tokens and trinkets they bring back are interesting for certain, but the Autumnal court spends too much time playing security to produce any real outcomes.
Autumn Court
The self-proclaimed 'stalwart defenders' of the Withered Facadé, I find their sense of duty to protect the Freehold admirable but their research skills are laughably pathetic. I'd rather see those magical artifacts in the possession of the Winter Court, at-least then we'd be using them to help alongside the gats they love so dearly.
The Garou The Garou can be troublesome this is true, but they have a stalwart sense of loyalty to their tribes, loyalty we Kithain should learn from. Loyalists are problematic and what better way to deter them than to have an ally they fear? An alliance or pact of some degree could benefit us both greatly.
Last edited by Marshmallow; May 4th, 2020 at 06:36 PM.
Cynthia had to shake her head, rub her eyes. Sure enough, eyes open once more, the rather stodgy woman's dog was a small dog again. Pomeranian, maybe? Some kind of mixed breed with the Wyld almost completely groomed out of it. It sat, staring dumbly at Cynthia now, growling occasionally at strangers who wandered too close to her human, who in turn was busy demanding something of a news vendor on the side of Harrison Avenue in Maynard. The dog's tongue lolled now. But a moment ago, she was sure it was a coyote, and that it had winked at her.
The woman had finished her exchange with the vendor, apparently satisfied her point had been made, whatever it was about. The vendor muttered under his breath, some flowery language that the Black Fury didn't particularly appreciate, even if she could understand the man's disdain. He glanced up as Cynthia approached, and his demeanor softened once more. A broad smile and a tip of his flat cap.
"How c'n I help ye, my dear?"
His Scottish accent was rusted and fading, Americanized. Cynthia knew his name, and that he was apparently Fianna kinfolk, but she had never met him. Another Fury had suggested Cynthia talk to Mickey Smudge-- a nickname earned from a lifetime of hawking broadsheets. His fingers left a grey smear on his forehead from tipping his cap. Mickey not only knew everything in the broadsheets, but he heard a little from everybody. Crooks and cops, politicians and priests- Smudge talked to them all, and he had the gift of gab, as surely as if he had a garou Gift of Persuasion.
Cynthia asked him surreptitiously if he had heard anything about a missing lass named Kathleen McCarthy. She described the girl: frail, lanky, curly black hair, a very cute face, and pale blue eyes. The girl was no one of consequence to most folk, just the third daughter of a poor Irish immigrant. Just a girl that no one of importance would miss, and no one would look for. Just a girl who would slip through the cracks and never be seen again. Just a girl whose disappearance would leave a ragged hole in her mother's broken heart. The Black Furies help out when they can, and this was one girl they just happened to hear about.
Smudge scratched his chin. He was not just kinfolk; he was the kind who was in the know about some garou business. The idea of a strange woman investigating a missing girl clearly sparked something, for he gave Cynthia a knowing grin.
"Now, I dinnae know much 'bout young girls-- it's not my game, y'understand? But it happens I have heard of some kids as went missing down in Brickville o'er the pas' few months. Mightn't hae thought much of it, except they mostly match the description of yuir missing girl."
Smudge's accent seemed to rekindle as Cynthia asked him questions. Her Irish brogue thickened as well. Something about celts meeting one another abroad always seemed to undo the new habits and quirks of speech. Cynthia asked the names and locations of the missing kids, and Smudge was able to provide clippings of broadsheets. Studying addresses and dates yielded only a rough area of Brickville to look into. The neighbourhood, Cynthia instantly recalled, had a speakeasy she had visited a number of times. It was a dive frequented by a Glass Walker she had crossed paths with at her own shebeen.
Cynthia recalled that Vitoro seemed well-connected in the underworld. Perhaps he would know...
Cynthia's attention drifted once more. A shrill, yipping bark and whine coming closer. The Black Fury looked down to see that damned Pomeranian at her feet again, it's leash dangling impotently behind her. It sat quite contentedly at Cynthia's feet. Within a minute, the ritzy lady who owned the dog arrived, disheveled and hobbling on one broken high heel.
"Oh, my," she panted, "thank you, darling. I don't know why she bolted like that, my sweet Adeline. Odd, she normally doesn't like strangers."
The woman scooped up her tiny dog in her arms and began hobbling away. Over her shoulder, the dog peered at Cynthia. Except-- for a moment, it once more looked like a coyote.
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