Capítulo 1 (CtL - SoD)

Anterior: Introdução

# Chapter 1: Duels at Dawn

> “Can a magician kill a man by magic? ” Lord Wellington asked Strange.
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> Stran ge frowned. He seemed to dislike the question.
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> “I suppose a magician might, ” he admitted, “but a gentleman never could.”
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> —Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
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## Hedgefire Wars

Since the first man realized he could take what the second man owned by force, war has been a part of existence. Inter-tribal conflicts over resources became struggles between city-states for control of the land became ideological crusades of nation against nation, and the only thing that evolved faster than the technology of war was the justification for one. And through it all, the Others watched, and absorbed, and learned.

Conflict is an inescapable part of a changeling’s existence, both on the personal scale and on the larger scale of the freehold. From dealing with her fetch to finding her place in a Court to navigating the perils of the Hedge, no changeling lives an idle life after her escape from Faerie. Sometimes, those conflicts grow beyond one changeling or her motley’s ability to resolve them, or beyond a courtier’s words and the subtle politics of the Court. When that happens, when resentment boils over into hatred and some damn fool touches a spark to the powder keg, a Hedgefire war might sweep through the freehold.

“Hedgefire war” is a term common to freeholds throughout the Western world. It refers to a martial conflict among the fae of a particular freehold, usually (but not always) against each other, and on a larger scale than a duel or a squabble between two motleys. Hedgefire wars sometimes involve one or more Courts mobilizing soldiers directly, but more often are fought through cat’s-paws and double-agents.

What does it mean when changelings go to war? Not the military conflict most people picture when they think of a war. Changelings don’t have access to tanks, bombers, and military-grade infantry weapons (and even if they did, using them would draw far too much attention from far too many eyes). Even the most populous of freeholds is unlikely to have a total population equal to the size of a company, and once the battle lines are drawn each side likely has fewer men than a full-strength platoon (roughly 30 to 50 soldiers; for reference, the City of Endless Summer has approximately 175 subjects, with perhaps 25 more in Rose Thorne’s exiled Spring Court).

Hedgefire wars resemble less the grand military engagements of mortal armies, like World War II or even the Gulf War and Iraq War, and more the gangland violence between rival criminal empires or the bloody coups that plague unstable third-world nations. They are small affairs notable for their speed and brutality: a typical Hedgefire war might last anywhere from a single day to a few weeks, usually ending with the death or dissolution of the losing faction. Formal battles with lines of engagement are rare —most “tactics” involve targets of opportunity, and the overall strategy is usually little better than “hit the other guy until he stops moving.”

## Casus Belli

The Courts go to war for a variety of reasons. With each other, they fight for personal gain, political change, or simple grudge. Against outsiders, they fight to defend the freehold, protect what they own, and hold the Others at bay. Individual motleys might escalate a conflict over perceived territory or a personal slight, or to advance their own station in the freehold. Casus belli, “cause for war,” takes many forms.

### Territory

Unlike some other denizens of the World of Darkness, changelings are not, as a rule, particularly territorial. They don’t maintain feeding grounds like vampires or police a section of a neighborhood like werewolves, but they do need places to live and ways to provide for themselves. In some freeholds, a semi-feudal Court structure is broken down by geography into various manors pledged from the seasonal monarch to lesser lords, who in turn receive Glamour, goods, and services from the weaker changelings who live there. In others, a powerful motley might lay claim to the Hedge-gates on the east side, charging a toll for their use. Sometimes this control is permanent, other times seasonal,but there are always those willing to use violence to take what others have.

* **Home Sweet Home:** A traveling motley of rough, tough sons of bitches has rolled into town, declaring allegiance to no Court or king. They kicked the shit out of a Summer motley up in the Heights, killed one and sent the rest running, and declared that anyone coming out of the Hedge in their territory would have to pay a toll. Since the Heights is where at least one trod that stretches all the way back to Arcadia lets out, the Summer King won’t stand for this offense. When word comes down that the newcomers are catching newly-escaped changelings and returning them to their Keepers if they can’t pay the toll, the Iron Spear goes forth in its full might.
* **A War of Ideas:** The usual rule in changeling society is “one city, one freehold.” But when two cities grow so large that their urban sprawls merge into one huge metropolitan area, conflict sometimes arises between two freeholds. When the oppressive feudal society of one town’s freehold runs headlong into the more egalitarian society of its neighbor, a conflict of ideals is inevitable — but when schemers on the side of the freemen begin agitating malcontents among their neighbor’s citizenry to revolution, is it a war of ideals or an attempt to seize new territory in a destabilized regime?

Wars over territory are seldom about the physical territory itself, but about the resources it holds or can bring in. The Trident freehold, in Miami, suffered such a war in the mid-1960s, when La Llorona and her newly-formed Winter Court rose up against the Iron Spear and took the Liberty City neighborhood for its own. Not only did this give the Silent Arrow a stronghold to call home (a powerful psychological advantage), it gave the Court’s members easy access to the emotions that provide Winter with its sweetest Glamour: despair, sorrow, hopelessness and loss. It also put La Llorona in a prime position to exert influence over the burgeoning drug trade perpetrated by mortal gangs.

Territorial wars are about control. No one fights a war over a Hollow where potent goblin fruits grow unless either someone controls the fruit and limits access to them, or else someone sees an untapped resource and decides that he wants to limit access to them. Control of a valuable resource, whether mundane or supernatural, is more than just survival: it’s power, and power is the root of most territorial wars. Certainly, sometimes a war will break out because one group needs another’s resources to survive, but the majority of them are about increasing one faction’s (or even one individual’s) political power.

### Revolution

Rebellion. Regime change. Independence. When a freehold’s members are no longer satisfied with the governance of the Courts, a revolution might break out. It might be driven by idealism and an effort to overthrow an oppressive monarchy, or it might be a coup d’état for reasons of personal ambition. Revolutions are perhaps the most intensely personal of Hedgefire wars, since when the battle lines are drawn they often divide friends, lovers, and motleys depending on allegiance. The tale of star-crossed lovers on opposite sides of a civil war is a classic tragedy trope among poets, mortal and changeling alike.

Although despots and the ruthlessly ambitious are every bit as common in changeling society as they are in any autocratic regime, actual revolution is comparatively rare. In a society where one’s oath is often quite literally his bond, and among beings for whom sudden, jarring change is a dangerous, sanity-risking ordeal, the idea of overthrowing the Court often seems unthinkable. Even when changelings do choose to war against their lords, the sanctions levied by broken pledges of loyalty are enough to cripple any armed resistance. Nevertheless, when the situation becomes truly desperate and the alternative to rebellion is flat-out worse, a king can find himself cast down from the throne by the very people who swore to obey him.

Revolutions aren’t restricted to the freehold, either. Miami simmers on a potential revolt against the City of Endless Summer to be sure, but should Rose Thorne’s Spring faction ever be permitted to return to the city, it could well be war that decides who leads the Spring Court. Intra-Court civil wars are usually smaller and shorter than freehold conflicts, but also tend to be more vicious, as feelings of betrayal by a brother are far more personal than betrayal by a vassal.

This section uses “revolution” to refer to any war fought for political reasons. In the interest of accuracy, a revolution is defined as a sudden change in the form of government or in the persons in power within a government. A rebellion is any act of disobedience against established authority (without necessarily desiring an overthrow of that authority), while a war for independence is, as the name suggests, a war to throw off the government and create an independent state (which may or may not involve the destruction of the original state). A coup d’état is the overthrow of a government by a branch of or a group within that government. Finally, a civil war is a war between citizens of the same nation, regardless of motivation.
Thus, Grandfather Thunder’s coup in Miami began as a coup d’état that became a civil war (as Thunder threw out the seasonal Court of the Trident and established the City of Endless Summer), then quickly became both a rebellion and a counter-revolution (as the other Courts fought against Summer’s authority and sought to restore the rotating monarchy. War is a complicated business.

### Invasion

This is the one that every freehold fears. Internecine struggles and wars for independence are one thing, but when the hosts of Faerie come marching out of the Hedge, changelings must abandon their rivalries and stand together, lest they be dragged in chains back to Arcadia separately.

Sightings of the Others (or beings mistaken for the Others) within a freehold’s borders are enough to spread panic through the Courts like wildfire and send the Knights of Summer running for their iron blades. The mere rumor of a Keeper’s presence galvanizes the changeling inhabitants of a city with pure terror — and that’s seldom more than a single member of the Gentry, perhaps with a hunting retinue. When the Hosts of Faerie marshal themselves and march forth from Arcadia, the legends say, entire cities go missing. Changeling lore is full of stories about the aftermath of Fae invasions: Pompeii; Machu Picchu; Roanoke Colony; and Iram of the Pillars. Skeptics say that talespinners will claim any lost city as the work of the Others, while the talespinners counter that that’s exactly what the inhabitants of those missing cities said.

* **Winter is Coming:** When Stark Eddie came back from Faerie, he told the Winter Court that he’d met Winter in the Hedge. Winter had shown him the way home, and told him that when he got there, Stark Eddie was to rule in Winter’s name. The Frost-King laughed at him and told him to be on his way, but Stark Eddie showed the king his power by blanketing the harbor with snow and breaking so many hearts that the suicide rate spiked to a 10-year high. Now Stark Eddie has an audience, and he’s promising power to the angry young men of the Silent Arrow. Winter is coming, and there’ll be blood on the snow.
* **The Mad King:** The King of the Leaden Mirror has lost his mind. Fear has turned to full-blown paranoia, and the oaths he demands of his vassals are ever more onerous and full of strong sanctions. Any who question his “wisdom” are branded heretics and loyalists, and are executed by impalement upon the Thorns. The leaders of the Courts counsel patience: even the cruelest season must pass, and Autumn will be over soon. Others, especially in the Summer Court, say that the king must be overthrown, and damn the consequences. Can lives be saved by stepping in now, or will the terrible curses the magic of Autumn will call down upon the traitor drown the freehold in ash and bone?

However few or many cities the Others might have made disappear, the truth is that the Others don’t actually invade the mortal world en masse all that often. Scholars and generals of the Autumn and Summer Courts debate the reasons for this, from the theory that the seasonal Court structure of most freeholds masks the presence of the Lost from their Keepers, to the idea that prolonged existence within the mortal realm is painful, difficult, or costly to the Gentry. Some simply suggest that the Others are so mercurial and treacherous that the idea of an army of them working in cohesion is absurd. Still, there are those who remember their time in Faerie as an endless parade of drills and tourneys, of briar-armies amassing with the slow, inexorable force of a glacier. One day, they say, the Host of the Thousand Princes will be assembled, and the Marshal of the Invisible will lead them through the Hedge to claim the mortal world as their birthright.

Invasion from the Hedge doesn’t always mean the Others riding out of the Hedge-gates on horses of silken shadow, at the head of vast armies of the Gentry and their hobgoblin retainers. Sometimes a hobgoblin achieves a peculiar level of intelligence and power, gathers an “army” to its banner, and raids a freehold for its own inscrutable reasons. It might seek to capture changelings to sell back to their Keepers, or it might try to seize Hollows and goblin orchards within the Hedge. Other times, one of the Banished might rally a small force and seek to overthrow the freehold, either enslaving its occupants or using them as a bargaining chip to regain entrance to Faerie.

In any war against the Hedge, a freehold can expect to face a myriad and unpredictable foe. True Fae generals might be the most immediately terrifying, but hobgoblin skirmishers and changeling loyalists are no less of a threat. Agents provocateurs within the freehold itself are a constant peril, and even the threat of the True Fae isn’t always enough to make power-hungry cabals set aside their ambitions for a while. Wise rulers ensure that the trods are watched closely year round — even if the invasion can’t be stopped, some level of advance warning can at least provide the hope of mounting a defense.

* **A Court Divided:** Motleys on the outskirts of the freehold have begun to report seeing odd movements of hobs in the Hedge, as though they were scouting the boundaries of the freehold. When a goblin messenger arrives in the Court of the Autumn King bearing a message from the King’s Keeper, the Leaden Mirror is divided amongst itself: the missive declares that the Keeper has amassed a force of hobgoblin warriors and loyalist changelings who stand ready to attack the city — unless his “property” is returned to him. Now the Autumn Court crumbles into factions: some who refuse to bow to the Gentry, others who see turning the king over as the only way to ensure the survival of the freehold. Some suggest the other Courts should be brought in to help; others insist this will show the Autumn Court to be too weak to lead. Can the characters’ motley navigate the minefield of politics? Will they choose defiance, even at the risk of destruction, or will they kowtow to Arcadia and prove themselves slaves? And can the King’s Keeper even be trusted to keep his word?
* **Endgame:** This is it. The freehold’s feeble protections are swept away, the hidden Lost laid bare, and an army of the Gentry — not merely a gaggle of hobs led by a lord of Faerie, but a true host of Arcadia — is on the march. Changelings cry that this is the end of the world, that the Others have come to claim the entire world. Maybe they’re right, and maybe they’re wrong, but certainly the fate of the freehold hangs in the balance. As the host approaches, strange storms wrack the mortal world, and ominous portents are seen by those with the sight. Can the freehold put aside petty rivalries and differences of politics to present a united defense, or will the madness of fear undo the Lost before the first of the Fae Knights ride out through the doorways?

## Ideology

Crusade. Jihad. Pogrom. As long as there have been multiple belief systems, there have been wars fought over them. Changelings are no exception. Nominally, the seasonal Courts coexist peacefully, with each fulfilling their own role within a freehold. In practice, however, that doesn’t always work out quite so well, particularly when a local Court holds to beliefs or practices wildly different from the “norm.” Grandfather Thunder would certainly like to exterminate Rose Thorne’s Spring Court, for example, and the City of Endless Summer has certainly engendered enough vitriol that some Miami changelings would not mind seeing Summer abolished even as a concept.

Inter-Court conflict is, of course, not the only potential ideological dispute in changeling society. Endowments have very strong codes of belief and behavior, and if multiple Endowments with conflicting beliefs (or even just conflicting personalities among their leaders) have a sizable presence in the freehold, a war among the nobility might easily break out. Even common lore or practice within a particular region or neighborhood might be sufficiently abhorrent to neighbors that a war of ideology might break out. In some freeholds, wars might even be fought over seeming or kith. Even mortal concerns like religion, race, or politics can spill over into Hedgefire wars. Oftentimes, the warring ideologies aren’t even directly incompatible, the monarchs and leaders might simply need a scapegoat to further their own agenda.

Ideological wars are often the most brutal of wars, and among changelings as much as humans, atrocities are often committed on the field. It’s all too easy to make your opponent in such a war out to be a bad guy, an inhuman savage who plainly cannot see the right of your cause, or as a subhuman brute little better than a hob or one of the Gentry. When destruction of an ideology is the goal, breaking the spirits of its followers is key, and brutality has long proven an effective means of breaking the enemy.

Technically, wars against loyalists, privateers, and bridge-burners might qualify as ideological wars, but the difference between the two causes is seldom so black and white. When coming up with concepts for wars of ideology, consider carefully whether you want the lines to be that clear-cut. Sometimes having an obvious black-hearted villain at the core of your chronicle is a good thing, but sometimes you might not want to lose the ambiguity of a morally gray war.

## Vanity

It would be nice to say that wars are always fought for a noble cause, or at least something in which the combatants themselves believe, but the truth is that petty vindictiveness, ego, and pride cause at least as many wars as religion or resources. Changelings are no different than mortal men in that respect, and indeed the Lost are sometimes even vainer than ordinary humans. Rivalry, whether personal or political, slights real or perceived, and simple vanity (“who’s the fairest of them all?”) can prompt Hedgefire wars of surprising vitriol.

Most animosities and matters of pride, of course, are resolved on a personal level: political undermining, gossipmongering and, when all else fails, the duel, are the usual courses of action. When the rivalry comes between especially powerful and influential changelings, though, and when it is left to fester for too long, it can trickle down into their followers and ultimately erupt into an all-out war. Like the Montagues and the Capulets, one cannot continue while the other exists. Vanity wars are usually brutal but quick, and typically end when one of the offended parties is slain or some reconciliation is reached.

Sometimes in the case of a particularly beloved leader, her death will only galvanize those who follow her, in which case only vengeance will usually end the war. Other times, particularly if there is a strong central authority keeping the warring parties in check, a war of vanity might simmer in a long-lasting feud rather than exploding in a quick, violent confrontation. Jeremiah Sleet and his Winter Court’s intermittent struggles against the Summer Court fall into this category, as Winter has never really forgiven Grandfather Thunder for the death of La Llorona.

Sometimes, the grudge carries on so long that those fighting no longer remember what led to the feud in the first place. If it’s allowed to go on long enough, the feud might even become an institution of freehold culture. No one really knows why the Darklings of the Winter Court and the Elementals of the Spring Court hate each other; that’s just the way it’s always been. Ending such a feud might be as simple as uncovering the original reason for the enmity, but the truth is that’s rarely sufficient. By the time someone redresses the original grievance (or at least reveals how absurdly minor it was), there has usually been enough violence on both sides that the feud itself is the root cause of the feud.

* **The War of Straw Men:** The Scarecrow Ministry has a secret practice, out by the old junkyard on the east end of town. There’s a gateway to the Hedge there, a gateway they say leads to a trod that goes right back to Faerie, arrow-straight and broad as the Mississippi. The only way to keep the Fae from strolling down that trod and taking everyone back in chains is to put up the ghost skulls. It’s a simple enough procedure: when a man dies in abject terror, you cut off his head, mount it on a stake, and leave it in the Hedge in a line with more like it, right across that road. The panicked ghosts keep the Fae out, or so they say — but when it comes to light that the Ministers are killing mortals to make more ghost skulls, the Spring Court demands that the Endowment be exterminated. As the Courts go on the hunt (and more than a few innocent Autumn Courtiers are killed because they are mistaken for Ministers), no one’s asking the obvious question: do the skulls work?
* **Lightbringer:** The Summer Queen has always loved the light and shunned the darkness. Under her rule, only the most beautiful and glorious changelings are permitted to join the Summer Court. Fairest, Elementals, noble Beasts and clever Wizened populate her Courts, while Darklings, Ogres, and all whose nature tends toward the shadow and the night are quietly pushed out of the Court. Finally, when the queen’s reign comes round again and the Lord of Spring steps aside, the Queen of Summer declares her Lightbringer’s Crusade: all changelings who embrace the darkness have embraced Faerie, she says, and they hold wickedness and treachery in their hearts. Summer’s Knights begin by attacking the Courtless, those who have none to stand for them, but tensions rise every day, and it’s only a matter of time before some unlucky Autumn or Winter Courtier is the target of the pogrom, and then there will be civil war.

* **Love’s Labors Scorned:** They call her the White Widow. She is a Duchess of the Icebound Heart, and her weeping lovers number in the dozens. She has played her game and played it well, until a young prince of the Summer Court melted her heart and made her love again. But when the prince became the king, he spurned her, choosing as his bride a fair and lovely young daughter of Spring. The Widow, who was powerful in her own right, swore that she would destroy the House of Summer and all who swore loyalty to it, until no memory of warmth or sun remained. The Duchy of the Icebound Heart has mustered its nobles, and though the Winter King has no desire to make war on Summer, the Duchy is powerful within his Court and the Widow commands much respect. Left unchecked, the feud could engulf the entire freehold.
* **Crossed Stars:** The Lost who dwell east of the old railyards have always resented those who claimed the west side as their home. It was the classic divide of the haves and the have-nots, the posh nobility and the rugged, sturdy, salt-of-the-earth peasants. What started as general resentment and dislike shortly after the freehold’s founding has become organized over the decades: organized and mean. Violence has been intermittent but severe, and at several points in history, when Court allegiances and geography lined up just right, the feud has rendered the freehold all but ungovernable. Finally, a compromise has been reached: Hightower John and Janey Wrong-Side are going to be married in the hopes of bridging the gap. There’s just one problem: the newlyweds-to-be hate each other. With the ceremony just a few days away, the troupe’s characters are appointed to manage the couple and try desperately to stop a move for peace from pushing the feud into all-out war.

## Battle Lines and Battlefields

When changelings go to war, they are inevitably colored in their approach by their nature and their beliefs. The seasonal Courts, the seemings, even members of the various and sundry kiths come to war with their own tactics and philosophies. Whether the battlefields lie in realms of dream, the overgrown nightmare of the Hedge, or even the streets and alleys of the mortal world, a Hedgefire war is fought by creatures strange and secretive, with tactics mortal warriors would scarcely believe.

### The Full Flower of Chivalry: The Spring Court

The Antler Crown does not enjoy war. Spring is the season of desire, of passion and joy, and want and life. War is an ugly, brute business, the work of thugs and killers. When the Spring Court finds itself in a position where its enemies must be destroyed, or when a grudge has gone too far, changelings of the Spring Court prefer to resolve the issue in a more direct manner. Often, this is a duel between the offended parties, or between the leaders of two opposing factions. Appointing a champion to fight in the leader’s stead is perfectly acceptable, though a king who fights his own battle earns great acclaim. Hearkening back to traditions as old as the Trojan War, the battle is decided not by clash of dozens of men, but by an honorable fight between champions. According to Spring tradition, the defeated leader must surrender the field, and the matter is considered resolved — no matter if the defeated champion could muster more warriors than the victor or could overwhelm the enemy with force of arms.

Nearly all intra-Court conflicts are resolved in this manner, and if Spring holds great sway within the freehold, even external conflicts might be resolved in this manner. When a champion’s challenge cannot be arranged and the Spring Court must go to war, they do so in a glorious panoply that echoes the glory of the Antler Crown. Not for the courtiers of Spring are back-alley beatdowns and thuggish assaults: warriors of the Spring Court engage their enemies one-on-one with a challenge and a smile. Spring Courtiers at war might be archaic in appearance, all Hedgespun armor and swords like solid moonbeams, or they might garb themselves in the sleekest of modern fashions and accoutrements, erudite hitmen in $5,000 suits. However they go to war, the Spring Court goes in style.

A Spring Court offensive is often carefully planned to minimize carnage off the battlefield. Many kings of the Antler Crown appoint members of their Court as Heralds, whose duty it is to both observe the conflict and adjudge who came out of the battle a victor, and also to arrange a time and a place for the battle to occur. This helps to ensure that mortals (or, perhaps even worse, other supernaturals) will not be caught in the crossfire and that the secrecy of changeling existence is not threatened.

The Spring Court may be overly chivalrous and concerned more with glory than victory in battle, but they are not, as a rule, stupid. Announcing when and where you intend to face your enemy is a good way to get yourself ambushed and massacred, which is why the Spring Court empowers its Heralds to make pledges in their king’s name, ensuring that the battle will be honorably conducted. Heralds themselves are protected by pledges sworn between the seasonal monarchs as part of the formation of a freehold, and any who kills a Herald of Spring faces powerful sanctions.

### Fires on the Battlefield: The Summer Court

War is the Summer Court’s business. That much is obvious, but what many fail to appreciate is that the Iron Spear is focused on war stripped of all extraneous trappings. The armies of Summer — and armies is not an inept term, as the Summer Court often maintains full-time professional soldiers — don’t care about honor or glory or breaking the enemy’s spirit. They care about winning, and whatever tactic seems most likely to guarantee victory is the one the Summer Court will adopt. They freely employ tools and tactics both archaic and modern, sometimes in the same battle — it’s not unheard of for skirmishers armed with axes and spears to be supported by snipers on rooftops with high-powered rifles, or for the massed cavalry charge to be adapted for ogres on motorcycles. Any Summer warrior worth his salt will be skilled with firearms and archaic weapons alike — simple weapons are most effective in the Hedge, after all, and the True Fae’s vulnerability to cold iron is difficult to exploit with a pistol.

When fighting against the Gentry or their servants, the Summer Court shows no mercy or restraint, but when fighting their fellow Lost, the Iron Spear adheres to its own rules of war. Although not as structured or formalized as the Spring Court’s code, the Summer Court recognizes that no one is benefited by engaging in total war except the Others. Every resource of the enemy’s the Summer Court’s soldiers destroys is a resource that will be unavailable when the Others come — and they will come, the Iron Spear has no illusions about that. Likewise, the Iron Spear refrains from making targets out of a changeling’s mortal life: family members, friends, and establishments that form the pillars of an enemy’s identity are generally off-limits. This is primarily a matter of practicality: once the Summer Court goes after a changeling’s wife or father, the can of worms is open for the Summer Court’s enemies to then go after their mortal lives.

The Summer Court is unique among the seasonal Courts in that, especially in freeholds where it has a large presence, Summer Kings maintain standing “armies” of professional warriors. Though these armies seldom number more than a dozen or two men, they are invariably among the finest warriors in the freehold. Other Courts might boast Knights and fighters of great skill, but Summer is the only Court to regularly Contract soldiers who are entirely provided for by the Court’s monarch. Freed of the need to earn money or Glamour, they devote themselves purely to combat drilling and tactical planning. During peacetime, these soldiers typically serve as the monarch’s personal honor guard, but when the scarlet banners of Summer take the field, the King’s (or Queen’s) Guard take the most difficult and dangerous missions for themselves and lead the rest of the Court’s members into combat.

### Battle-Fear and Omens of Blood: The Autumn Court

If it had its way, the Autumn Court wouldn’t go to war at all. Force of arms and brute strength are far and away the least efficient means of achieving your goals — the Autumn Court considers it a victory not when their enemies lie dead in the street or their queen lays claim to some new part of town, but when their enemies are simply too afraid to attack the Autumn Court in the first place. When they must fight, the Autumn Court favors surgical strikes against their enemies’ strongholds, assassinations carried out unnoticed in highly public places, and similar tactics designed to terrify their foes into submission.

One popular story that makes the rounds of various Autumn Courts says that the Autumn Queen managed to avert a war with Winter by having one of her best agents leave an iron knife marked with the heraldry of the Leaden Mirror on the Winter King’s pillow — while the king was sleeping, with a dozen bodyguards outside and the bedroom warded with potent magic. The Winter King, realizing he was in no way safe, immediately conceded to the queen’s demands. Whether the story is actually true or not, it exemplifies the manner in which the Autumn Court prefers to make war.

None of that is to say that the Autumn Court is lacking in the capability for direct action, of course. For every skulking Darkling or grim Wizened, the Leaden Mirror boasts a cannibal Ogre, bloody-fanged and powerful, or a dread huntsman with his baying pack of hounds. Autumn Court warriors make liberal use of their Court Contracts to send an aura of dread before them, and even when war is not on the horizon the Court subtly seeds stories and legends about the enforcers of the Autumn Court. These warriors often adopt some unnerving personal habit (fighting in utter silence, never revealing their face, or simply leaving the horrifically-maimed corpses of their enemies where they are sure to be found) to further enhance their frightful reputation. One might wear the detritus of her dead fetch braided into her hair, another dresses in an impeccably clean, archaic doctor’s smock and surgical mask, still another wears an executioner’s hood with no eye-holes, which nonetheless does not hinder his accuracy with the twin .45s he carries.

The true strength of the Autumn Court in war lies not in its enforcers, however grim and terrible they might be, but in the Court’s sorcerous might. Autumn Court witches call down curses and ill omens upon their foes, invoke mighty pledges with their allies, and do it all while quite removed from the battlefield. Through manipulation of Glamour and Hedge-shaping, they can deny their enemies access to useful resources, and by striking out at dreams they can both demoralize their enemies and gain a peerless source of information about the foe’s plans.

The Leaden Mirror sometimes maintains ties with the other denizens of the World of Darkness, and may be able to call upon the aid of vampires, werewolves, and other creatures of the night for help in battle. Such alliances are seldom called up except in times of great need, though, for the Autumn Court understands little about such creatures and can never quite be sure what they might desire in return for their aid. Still, even the threat that such strange entities might be brought to bear is often enough to demoralize the enemy.

### Cold War, Cold Hearts: The Winter Court

Wars are messy. Wars are big and loud and ugly, and most of all, they draw attention. The Silent Arrow doesn’t much care for attention, and so it prefers to settle its conflicts in ways at once more subtle and more final. Open war is not the way of Winter, nor even the sudden swift assault.

When Winter settles a problem, it does so with a quiet blade in the dark, a carefully constructed plan to break its enemies’ spirits and drive them to despair and madness. The Winter Court does not declare war, it simply ends war. Oftentimes, the other parties involved never even know they were at war with the Winter Court.

Where Spring has its elaborate codes of chivalry and honor in war and Summer follows its rules of engagement, Winter labors under no such restrictions. A war against the Silent Arrow is a total war — Winter thinks nothing of destroying Hollows, assassinations of protected individuals, or even bringing the mortal world into the fight. Black rumors of atrocity often follow the Winter Court: the Winter Queen captures the mortal children of her enemies and sells them to the Others. The Winter Court burns Hollows to the ground and uproots trods, condemning its enemies to wander lost in the Hedge. Whether these rumors are true or not depends largely on the freehold, but Winter in general is more than willing to employ underhanded tactics to achieve its ends.

One particular stratagem the Silent Arrow often employs is to attack the Clarity of its enemies. Instead of striking directly against its rivals, they engineer dramatic, catastrophic changes that cause their enemies to risk Clarity loss. They might murder or abduct mortal friends and family members of their rivals or even destroy buildings that have a special significance to the enemy. Burning down a childhood home or getting the city to condemn the bar where he met his wife can cause a sudden, unexpected change in the enemy’s life, and that Clarity hit can undermine his will and his ability to fight.

### Cry Havoc: Beasts

Unsurprisingly, Beasts are ideally suited to warfare. Their feral instincts allow them to react quickly on the battlefield, and with their Contracts of Fang and Talon, they can provide invaluable support and intelligence. Many prefer operating in groups, often with other members of their own seeming, and even kith. Working as a unit, these packs, prides, and herds support the war effort with savage might.

Broadbacks make excellent logistical support and longdistance messengers, but they can also be tenacious fighters. Their uncanny Stamina gives them the ability to fight on long after others have collapsed from exhaustion, and with a sufficient supply of Glamour they can easily shrug off deleterious effects like poison, tear gas, and the like. If a Hedgefire war takes place over a large area (such as a freehold governing a vast forest, or one taking place primarily in the Hedge where distance is relative), they might supplant Runnerswifts as the ideal messengers and scouts.

Hunterhearts are skirmishers and assassins par excellence. Some prefer the front lines, but most are more at home with the hunt, stalking and slaying their prey swiftly and from behind. With the aid of tokens and Contracts to enhance their Stealth, Hunterhearts can be viciously effective assassins, approaching their target unarmed and with the Mask strengthened, only to lash out with claws and fangs at the opportune moment.

Runnerswifts prove their worth as scouts and decoys, using their raw speed to get themselves into and out of trouble. In smaller conflicts, they might serve as messengers when relaying information via telephone or e-mail is deemed unsecure. Some Runnerswifts, particularly those who resemble animals regarded as meek or helpless (rabbits, mice, deer, etc.) play on that image of helplessness to lure the enemy into going after them and thereby leading the foe into an ambush. Sometimes the Runnerswift is the ambush — a .44 Magnum makes even a mouse a threat.

Skitterskulks and Steepscramblers alike make excellent spies. Their preternatural agility and reaction time helps them get into and out of guarded enemy strongholds with ease, and the creatures they emulate with their Contracts of Fang and Talon often provide them with even more means of lurking about undetected. They can also make excellent skirmishers, ambushing opponents from above when the opportune moment presents itself.

Swimmerskins rarely see specialized use in war unless the freehold happens to be on the coast, or at least near a large body of water. Given access to their chosen element, they can make useful saboteurs and infiltrators, particularly if the enemy holds territory along the waterfront, but they are perhaps most useful as scouts and resource-gatherers. Gateways to the Hedge aren’t always located on dry land, and underwater Hollows, sometimes referred to as Grottoes, can provide not only places to rest and recuperate between fights, but also strange and sometimes useful goblin fruits.

Venombites, like Hunterhearts, make excellent assassins. They tend to avoid direct conflict, but when they can lash out with their poisonous bite against an unsuspecting enemy commander, they can achieve more than a brute Ogre crushing a dozen enemy soldiers with his bare hands. Depending on his affinity and the fauna native to the freehold, a Venombite might even be able to deliver the deadly blow while not even physically present, thanks to his Contracts of Fang and Talon.

Where Runnerswifts excel as scouts and messengers in a strategic sense, Windwings (especially in urban freeholds with plenty of high perches from which to observe) are ideally suited to serving as tactical observers. Watching from rooftops with cell phones or walkie-talkies, they alert their allies to approaching enemies, warn of ambushes, and the like. While they aren’t capable of flight without magical assistance in the form of tokens or Contracts, in pitched battles they can provide some semblance of “air support” when armed with Molotov cocktails and the like.

### Shadows of an Invisible War: Darklings

Open warfare is for suckers. Darklings manipulate events behind the scenes, engineering victory before the first blows are struck — or failing that, using their gifts for mimicry, stealth, and evasion to sow confusion and chaos in the enemies’ ranks. Mirrorskin spies attend war councils wearing the faces of enemy Knights, Gravewrights call the dead to harry the enemy, and Tunnelgrubs exploit even the smallest chink in an enemy stronghold’s security to worm their way in and come back out with vital secrets — or enemy’s heads.

Although they seldom directly engage in the war effort, Antiquarians are veritable encyclopedias of useful martial knowledge. Their long research and thorough examination of topics myriad and sundry allows them to provide both strategic and tactical insight: from knowing the trods that will lead a war-party undetected to an enemy’s back door to unearthing the frailties that afflict a high-Wyrd enemy general, Antiquarians are useful advisors indeed. When the enemy is one of the True Fae, Antiquarians serve an even more useful service, dredging up secrets gleaned from their time in Faerie to strike back against their erstwhile Keepers.

The dead haunt many battlefields, and Gravewrights can put that fact to good use. Though they cannot command the dead (at least, not without magics greater than their kith blessing), they can see and communicate with the dead, and most are adept at bargaining with the shades that linger in this world. A Gravewright might be a passive observer, cataloging ghosts’ actions in the hopes of discovering lost knowledge (perhaps seeing a ghost endlessly repeat the act of entering a kitchen and walking through the wall in a particular spot reveals a walled-over door to a forgotten basement, or a spirit hovering around a changeling leader points to some facet of an enemy’s mortal life), or they might serve as diplomats to the dead, brokering service for service. The promise of a fetter’s resolution might well be enough to urge a ghost to fight for the Gravewright, or at least use Numina to disrupt and terrify the enemy.

Leechfingers are seldom used directly in battle, but they excel at demoralizing the enemy. A Leechfinger armed with Contracts of Smoke and Mirror can slip into the enemy’s camp while he slumbers, sap him of his vitality, and leave him none the wiser. Done night after night over the course of several days, the enemy might well give up the ghost before anyone even knows what’s happening. Leechfingers with the Kiss of Life Merit (see sidebar) sometimes serve as field medics, performing a grim triage by taking life from the least injured to keep those closest to death alive a little bit longer.

In a scenario such as wartime espionage, when the ability to pass oneself off as a particular member of the enemy camp might be the difference between life and death for a Mirrorskin, it is perhaps beneficial to discuss more precisely what the Mercurial Visage blessing is and is not capable of.
* Mercurial Visage is not full-on shapeshifting; for that you need Contracts of Mirror. A 5’1” female Mirrorskin trying to disguise herself as a 7’4” male Ogre is going to suffer extreme penalties that the +3 bonus from Mercurial Visage isn’t going to offset. See p. 87 of the World of Darkness Rulebook for details on using Subterfuge to disguise yourself and the sorts of penalties it might incur.
* Mercurial Visage does allow you to ignore penalties for lack of equipment, at the Storyteller’s discretion. Minor changes to hair/eye color or bone structure suffer no penalty for lack of equipment, but drastic alterations to apparent height, body shape, or gender might still incur a penalty.
* Mercurial Visage affects both mien and Mask; however, these disguises are not independent of each other. If you choose to mimic a mortal (or other entity not protected by the Mask) both your mien and Mask resemble that person. If you mimic a changeling or other creature that has a Mask, your Mask resembles that changeling’s Mask while your Mien mimics the target’s mien. You cannot, for example, make your mien resemble a Fairest Knight while making your Mask look like the mortal bouncer at a nightclub.
* In general, lacking more potent Contracts, Mercurial Visage can accomplish roughly the same level of change you might expect from a professional makeup artist working with a full range of prosthetics, wigs and similar tools of the trade.

It requires no great leap of logic to see how Mirrorskins are useful to a war effort. Even without Contracts of Mirror, their kith blessing helps them to emulate members of the enemy camp, and allows them to infiltrate war-councils and private meetings. Care must be taken that the individual being doubled is well away from the meeting-place, and as any spy will tell you it’s dangerous to try the same trick twice in a row, but a well-trained Mirrorskin operative can infiltrate an enemy camp so thoroughly that the foe thinks there are a half-dozen or more moles within her operation. Particularly clever Mirrorskins will mimic loyal members of the enemy’s faction when they report back to their masters so that even if they’re followed, suspicion will be deflected onto a patsy.

Tunnelgrubs, like Beastly Skitterskulks and Steepscramblers, are masterful infiltrators, capable of squeezing into impossibly small spaces to spy on the enemy and, if need be, to escape detection. Since their ability to squeeze often allows them to reach vulnerable spots in a building’s architecture, they sometimes serve as sappers and demolitionists — although in recent years, with the mortals’ increased worries about terrorism, blowing up the enemy’s base of operations is a much riskier proposition than it once was, especially in North America.

### The Oncoming Storm: Elementals

Born of stone and fire and winter storm, Elementals go to war with the implacable fury of nature itself. Where others might compromise or reach détente, Elementals do not give in, do not lose the will to fight, and do not surrender. Part of this attitude comes from their time in Faerie and their treatment at the hands of Keepers — one cannot entreat the sirocco not to raise flesh-stripping sandstorms, or surrender to the stormy ocean and expect mercy. Part of it too comes from their seeming blessing: Elementals have access to unrivalled reserves of physical endurance, allowing them to fight on past grievous injuries as long as they have access to a ready supply of Glamour. Augmented by their Contracts of Elements, Elemental warriors can mount a formidable defense against any onslaught. Powerful, high-Wyrd Elementals like Grandfather Thunder have a reputation for being nigh-invincible when they take the field.

Elemental attitudes toward war are further shaped by their curse: empathy does not come easily to them, nor do mercy or forgiveness. Elementals are not cold, unfeeling machines (at least, not most of them — some Manikins certainly fit that description), but they often find it difficult to understand why a beaten enemy should be allowed to live, or even be forgiven. Even on the losing side, most Elementals prefer to fight on to the bitter end rather than yield. The fact that their curse likewise makes them poor negotiators is yet another reason why surrender is seldom a part of their vocabulary.

Like Runnerswifts, Airtouched excel as scouts and messengers, carrying off dangerous missions within enemy territory and avoiding retaliation by simply outdistancing the foe. Their ability to enhance their Initiative as well as their Speed also makes them useful in the hit-and-run attacks that comprise most combat in a Hedgefire war. At their most potent, the Contract Become the Primal Foundation (Elements •••••) allows an Airtouched to transform into a being of thin air, making them ideal infiltrators and spies, and nearly immune to physical harm.

Sturdy and powerful, Earthbones bring raw physical might to the battlefield. While they aren’t as adept at bruteforce assaults as Ogres (since their blessing only applies to non-combat Strength-based rolls), they excel at providing support. Is the enemy holed up in a warehouse downtown behind a solid steel door? An Earthbones is just a few points of Glamour away from smashing it down. Trapped in a roadblock ambush? The Earthbones can toss a car out of the way and get out. Elemental Contracts of Earth provide high levels of Defense and Armor, making Earthbones valued defenders and bodyguards as well.

Elements certainly makes Firehearts effective on the front lines, but their kith blessing also helps them to excel as tacticians and leaders in the field. Large-scale strategic overview isn’t the Fireheart’s forte, but when the guns come out and the swords clash, the ability to get a boost to Witsbased dice pools allows them to react quickly to the rapid changes of a fight. The ability to command and summon flames (through Contracts) likewise makes for a formidable tool for battlefield control: although changelings (unlike, for example, vampires or Prometheans) aren’t especially susceptible to fire, the fear of open flame when used as a weapon is deeply ingrained in the human psyche.

Manikins might not bring a great deal of force to the battlefield, but what they do bring is an astonishing versatility. With the myriad powers of Contracts of Artifice at their disposal, Manikins can cobble together virtually any weapon or piece of gear a warband might need on short notice. Only the Wizened can match their ability as craftsmen and combat engineers.

Terrible and cruel as a blizzard, Snowskins are rightly feared on the battlefield. They are seldom leaders or team players, though. Between their kith’s difficulty relating to others and their kith blessing to Intimidate rolls, Snowskins more often go to war as dread champions. Solitary and terrifying, they often don elaborate costumes of Hedgespun, and act to demoralize and frighten the enemy. These tactics are especially common in the Autumn and Winter Courts, but even Spring and Summer have their cold-blooded Knights to strike terror into the foe.

Like Swimmerskin Beasts and Water-Dweller Ogres, Waterborn are most effective when the Hedgefire war takes place on or near a body of water. Waterborn, however, are better adapted to aquatic environments (as they can use Glamour to breathe underwater indefinitely rather than hold their breath), and with Contracts of Elements at a sufficient level, even the smallest body of water can become a deadly weapon or a lethal trap. Stories tell of Waterborn assassins who can infiltrate even the most secure strongholds by pouring themselves through the plumbing, drown their target with little more than a tumbler of water, and be gone again before their presence is even noted.

In all but the densest of urban sprawls, a Woodblood is a frightening enemy to have. Given at least some natural vegetation to work with, Woodbloods are perhaps surpassed only by Darklings in their ability to observe the enemy, hidden and unseen. Sometimes the Woodbloods prove even more adept: shadows engender fear and paranoia, darkness invites the question of what might be hidden within it, but few think to grow uneasy at the sight of a bed of roses or a small copse in the city park. Woodbloods use that to their advantage, and forward-thinking (some might say paranoid) Woodbloods make sure that municipal parks and gardens near their rivals’ territories are always well-maintained.

### Glorious in War: Fairest

The Fairest are beautiful and terrible in all they do, and that includes going to war. Out of all the seemings, Fairest are most likely to view Hedgefire wars as ritual, almost-religious events. Where a Beast or an Ogre might spot a member of an enemy faction without any backup and simply jump him right then and there, a Fairest would be more likely to challenge him to a duel (or at least announce who it is that is kicking his ass for all to hear). Sometimes this has to do with honor and chivalry, but more often than not it’s about glory and self-aggrandizement. The Fairest want to be seen as paragons of skill and prowess, want to be acknowledged as warriors par excellence; whether or not they deserve that recognition depends greatly on the Fairest in question.

The Fairest often envision themselves as great generals and leaders of men. Some of them are — but there are just as many if not more who fit the stereotype of the officer who gets his men slaughtered due to his lack of combat experience. Many (though by no means all) likewise cling to outdated or impractical ideals of war quite at odds with the street-brawl nature of most Hedgefire wars. A group of Spring Knights in full Hedgespun panoply, resplendent with the mien of the Antler Crown, might look impressive as they stride down the street, but they aren’t much going to impress the Summer Court Wizened perched in a thirdstory window with an illegal, fully-automatic rifle.

Bright Ones charge into battle straightaway, shining like beacons to rally their allies to the fight. When possible, they use Goblin Illumination to disrupt the enemy’s defense and keep them disorganized with blindness. Unfortunately, charging into battle while softly glowing is a good way to get marked as an obvious target, so Bright Ones either acquire the best armor (from Kevlar body armor to Contracts and tokens) or have a very short combat life expectancy.

Lithe and sensuous, Dancers go to war with the same sultry grace that gives them their blessing. To them, battle is an intricate ballet — they often learn martial arts like Tai Chi or Capoeira, which emphasize a graceful flow to combat. They are seldom leaders or front-line soldiers, preferring to skirt the edges of a battle and pick off the weak or wounded. They often favor light, speedy weapons like knives and small pistols, and they usually fight on the defensive, exploiting their blessing until the moment comes for an opportune strike.

Of all the Fairest suited to lead, Draconics are perhaps the best. Though arrogant and sometimes disinclined to listen to the advice of their subordinates, they seem to have a knack for bloodshed and brutality that many of their cousins lack. Their blessing makes them deadly unarmed warriors as well, second only to Hunterhearts and Gristlegrinders. Also worth noting is the fact that a Draconic’s blessing can be used to reroll any failed roll with Brawl as a part of its dice pool, not just attacks. This can make Draconics surprisingly adept at sizing up opponents or recognizing the specific school of fighting an enemy uses.

Flowering Fairest aren’t terribly well-suited to war, and most of them know it. They find better use as spies and agents provocateurs, working the enemy like Mata Hari. In a Hedgefire war, such activities are even more dangerous than in mortal conflicts — espionage is a death sentence in fae wars just as it is among mortals, but given the much more intimate scale of changeling society, it’s much harder to be an anonymous beauty in a smoky bar. Unless a Flowering Fairest is very good at playing his allegiance close to his chest (or has lots of dots invested in Contracts of Mirror), he runs a very real risk of being recognized and killed — or worse, being recognized and used to feed false information to their masters.

Like their Flowering cousins, Muses are ill-suited to war. They tend to focus on the arts, and their kith blessing is only usable on mortals, limiting its usefulness even further. They can make themselves useful in proxy wars, however; a Muse might inspire a mortal gang leader to stir up trouble with a rival gang, which might count changeling enemies among its number. Alternately, the conflict might serve as a smokescreen to conceal a more direct attack on the Muse’s rivals. By working subtly and keeping herself removed from the front lines, a gifted Muse can run an entire war without anyone ever knowing she was involved.

### The Red Ruin: Ogres

Ogres are many things, but they are not leaders. Tending toward dull-wittedness and gullibility, they do not deal well with the logistics of overseeing a war, or with largescale strategizing and planning. What they excel at is frontline combat; indeed, it wouldn’t be unfair to say that Ogres make up the bulk of changelings engaged in the actual fighting of most every Hedgefire war. Theirs is not a subtle warfare: Ogres don’t slink into your house at night and put a poisoned dagger between your ribs, they hang out outside your favorite bar until you stagger out three sheets to the wind and they jump your ass with crowbars and chains. Sometimes they don’t even exhibit that much planning, but luckily for them their kith blessing and their Contracts of Stone are usually enough to tip the scales in their favor.

Although they are less common than others, Ogres sometimes rise to positions of leadership, whether of the Courts or large, powerful motleys or even mortal organizations. They excel in organizations where brute strength or an imposing presence are more valued traits than eloquence and wit (the Summer Court, organized crime, longshoreman’s unions, etc.) How successful such leaders are depends greatly on the loyalties of their underlings and the competence of their chief advisors. An Ogre chieftain might not be particularly adept at spotting treachery in the ranks, but if he’s smart, he has a Chatelaine or a Flowering Fairest he listens to, whose job it is to ferret out dissent and report it to the boss. Once the boss deals with the troublemaker, repeat performances aren’t common.

Cyclopean Ogres make use of their extraordinary senses to find difficult-to-locate enemies: Mirrorskin spies, Tunnelgrub infiltrators, and Wizened weaponsmiths, for example. They might work alone, or they might lead a pack of “troubleshooters” who specialize in tracking elusive prey. Sometimes these groups are attached to a Court or another group, but just as often they are freebooters, working for Glamour, tokens, and cold, hard cash. In a Hedgefire war, the race to procure the services of freelance groups of “bounty hunters” can sometimes be its own smaller war within the larger conflict.

Farwalkers are the exception to the rule that you’ll usually see an Ogre coming. Farwalkers favor lying in wait, ambushing their enemies at a time and place of the Ogre’s choosing. Unlike Hunterhearts, though, who relish the chase, a Farwalker is usually happiest when he can spring an ambush on totally unsuspecting enemies. He might stalk his quarry for a time beforehand, but that’s usually to get a sense of the target’s patterns and plan out the ambush before the “hunt.” Farwalkers as a rule don’t savor the fear their target would feel over a lingering chase — even Autumn Court Farwalkers prefer the sudden burst of sheer terror that comes when a slavering brute bursts unseen from the shadows to rip and tear.

Gargantuans are powerful and useful in a fight, but they must take care when using their abilities in population centers where mortals might witness them. The Mask will conceal a changeling’s mien from the masses, but it can do little for a Gargantuan who grows to the size of a grizzly bear. Gargantuans, therefore, serve best when held in reserve until a fight is concealed from mortal eyes — inside a Court stronghold, for example, or in a Hollow.

Your character’s Mask is less foolproof than that of other changelings. Whenever your character uses a power that drastically alters the size or shape of her body (such as a Stonebones’ Spurious Stature blessing or the Oddbody clause of the Contracts of Mirror), or which suffuses her with magical energy (such as the Armor of the Elements’ Fury clause of the Contracts of Elements), her Mask drops and anyone can see her true nature.

Often feared and mistrusted even by other changelings, Gristlegrinders make excellent shock troops. Not only are they powerful fighters with deadly natural weaponry, they terrify and demoralize their enemies as they charge into battle, tearing flesh and snapping bones in their terrible jaws. Watching a friend get injured in battle is painful enough — watching her partially eaten by a grinning Ogre is altogether more frightful. Some Gristlegrinders find their calling behind the front lines as interrogators and torturers. The prospect of an hour alone in a room with a Gristlegrinder is often enough to make a captive tell anything he knows.

If you need something protected, if your monarch needs to be guarded against assassination attempts and surprise attacks, you call a Stonebones. Between their kith blessing and their Contracts, one or two Stonebones bodyguards can hold off what would otherwise be an overwhelming assault — one story out of Cleveland holds that, during a Hedgefire war between the Duke of Autumn and the Grand Duchess of Spring, the Duke and his two Stonebones attendants were set upon by a full dozen Autumn soldiers, armed with magic, steel, and lead. The bodyguards were finally killed, but only after bringing down 10 of the attackers and giving the Antler Guard time to arrive and vanquish the rest.

Like their aquatic brethren among the Beasts and Elementals, Water-Dwellers are brought to bear in war where amphibious assaults are viable. They have an extra edge in their ability to see clearly in murky, dark water, and as such they can often be found in the sewer systems of larger cities, even landlocked ones. Their knowledge of the underground tunnels makes them ideal guides; sewers reach nearly everywhere in a modern city, which can mean surprise attacks from unexpected directions without the dangers of a trip through the Hedge.

### Boys in the Back Room: Wizened

With the exception of the Soldier kith, Wizened seldom find themselves on the front lines of battle. Their talents lie in servitude, in crafting and maintaining a stronghold, and in developing new weapons and tokens their brethren can use to take the fight to the enemy. In fact, given that wars are often fought over resources, a particularly gifted Wizened might well find herself the cause of a Hedgefire war, as both sides want her services as a craftsman or a seer.

Artists in times of war might find their talents pressed into service creating or modifying weapons and armor. Whether working with delicate-seeming Hedgespun silks capable of turning bullets into songs or forging a perfectlybalanced sword just like the one the Fairest Knight carried in Faerie wars, an Artist’s extraordinary acumen allows him to create tools and weapons in remarkably short order.

Brewers might not find immediately obvious uses for their talents in war, but the ability to brew a good quality beer or distill a fine, smoky whiskey (whether supernaturally enhanced or not) is a potent morale booster. Brewers sometimes prepare special batches expressly for members of their Court, Entitlement, or motley, and never shared with outsiders. These sorts of drinks serve to build camaraderie and boost morale, fostering a sense of belonging and espirit de corps. Some Brewers use their blessing to incapacitate key enemy leaders or warriors before a fight: all it takes is a hand brushing against a water bottle or a glass, and a dangerous foe spends the battle sleeping it off.

**Prerequisite:** Inebriating Elixir kith blessing
When your use your Inebriating Elixir blessing to ferment a non-alcoholic beverage, the drink’s taste is not altered in any way; imbibers cannot tell that what they’re drinking is alcoholic, much less preternaturally so.

Chatelaines are usually called in when the fighting is over, to negotiate a truce or the terms of a surrender. Their precise manners and formal knowledge of protocol help to soothe wounded egos and ensure that the transition goes smoothly. During a war, many Chatelaines find their powers dramatically increased: as kings and queens focus their attentions on the conflict, they often leave the day-to-day running of the freehold to their trusted advisors and seneschals, many of whom are Chatelaines. Such advisors can easily play the role of Iago, manipulating their masters into conflict to extend the reach of their own arm.

Chirurgeons, naturally enough, stay behind the front lines and patch up the injured as they come back from the fighting. Many keep well-guarded Hollows where orchards of healing goblin fruits grow, and those that do sometimes accompany the warriors into battle to perform battlefield triage. Since their blessing does little else to increase the speed of healing, though, most stay safely back and let the injured come to them.

Oracles advise, plan, and sometimes instigate wars. The Autumn Court especially takes Oracles and their predictions very seriously; if a respected Oracle says that doom will befall the freehold if the Winter Court is not eliminated, the Leaden Mirror starts mustering its forces. Even the other Courts usually listen to an Oracle’s advice. Naturally, this leads some Oracles to fake their visions to advance their own political goals. To minimize this, many Autumn Courts group their Oracles into norns, groups of three Oracles, all of whom must agree that war is necessary.

Where Artists are pressed into service crafting the weapons and tools needed for a war, Smiths are set to work perfecting them. Many Courts institute a “war footing” by putting Artists to crafting weapons (both archaic and modern), then handing those weapons off to Smiths to hone them into especially deadly forms. Since a Smith’s enchantment lasts only a day, Smiths are usually brought in right before a big push is made against the enemy.

Soldiers, unlike most other Wizened kiths, fight on the front lines along with members of more militant seemings. Their blessing makes them versatile and effective warriors, but leads them to favor melee weapons, which makes them vulnerable to changelings who fight from a more modern technology base. Many Soldiers choose to carry bizarre, exotic weapons for the intimidation value, especially those that require a Specialty to use without penalty.

Woodwalkers seldom see action in urban wars, but in freeholds that include large areas of wilderness (such as the Everglades outside Miami or the mountain forests of the Pacific Northwest), they often serve as guides for scouts and raiding parties. Their blessing grants the 8-again rule for any Survival roll, which includes navigating in the Hedge (Changeling: The Lost p. 219), so even in urban centers they can be useful as guides and watchers over the trods that might lead to vulnerable areas.

### Fields of Battle

Unlike mortal wars, changelings fight on battlefields far more exotic than the deserts of the Middle East or the jungles of Southeast Asia. They fight on city streets, to be sure, but they also fight in twisting labyrinths of thorn and vine, in invisible fortresses hidden under bridges, and even in the dreaming minds of mortal and fae alike.

Given the choice — not that they always are — the Lost prefer to keep their battles from going too deeply into the Hedge. Many a work on military strategy stresses the importance of controlling the terrain. By holding the land, one can conquer the heavens. And the Hedge is just too flexible, too mercurial. Hedge-shaping can keep it locked into a particular form for a time: but the enemy usually has the exact same advantage, as the Lost fight other fae creatures far more often than they do mortals or other supernatural entities, particularly in the Hedge. The True Fae in particular are frequently better-versed at Hedge-shaping than are their former servants.

But sometimes there’s no real choice. Sometimes one must stand against a tribe of border reavers in the Hedge to prevent them from harming anyone in the mortal world. Sometimes there’s no better terrain to hold. Sometimes the Lost need the secrecy of a separate battlefield. And sometimes their Faerie blood simply calls to them, demanding that they risk it all among the Thorns.

### The Hedge’s Advantages

The most pressing arguments for fighting a battle in the Hedge come when its tactical potential outstrips, or at least seems to outstrip, the hazards of a battlefield among the Thorns.

* **Travel Logistics:** There’s no denying that the Hedge offers travel opportunities, hazardous though they are, that the mortal world can’t match. A path through the Thorns can make a perfect supply line of materiel, or enable a risky but swift flanking maneuver. Expert Hedge-guides are critical to this sort of use, as inexpert navigation can place a war party in a far worse situation than a simple tactical disadvantage. The ideal route doesn’t go too deep into the Hedge, but also avoids any potential portals that the enemy might know about.
* **Materiel:** Goblin Fruits and other oddments can be valuable resources, particularly those that have some sort of ability to heal wounds. A battle might be fought over a particular orchard, either to capture or to raze it. A war party might also need to besiege an enemy Hollow if its location is known.
* **Shifting Ground:** To some generals, the hazards of the Hedge might be a compelling lure — assuming one can arrange for an enemy to stumble into the brunt of the hazards while keeping one’s own troops safe. This is a particularly tricky tactic, requiring strong intelligence on an enemy’s movements, a sufficiently clever way to lure an enemy into position, and the Hedge-prowess to control the battlefield according to plan. Of course, changelings have a natural talent for deception and misdirection that can aid them in such an endeavor. In most cases, though, so does the enemy...

### Hedge-Shaping in Battle

When the fae go to war within the Hedge, the nuances of Hedge-shaping cease to be subtle. Even when a motley fights a motley, the clash of Wyrd will shape the Thorns far more than the strength of any individual’s fae identity. Unless one side attempts to actively control the battlefield through Hedge-shaping, the environment reflects the violence inflicted there. Flocks of fae carrion birds, corvid or vulturine or even serpentine, swarm overhead. The ground underfoot becomes warmer, sometimes even seeming to pour out two drops of blood for every one spilled. The Thorns rattle and rustle, even whispering and moaning echoes of the slain. Some seem to sprout skulls and bones impaled on the briars, or blood-soaked tatters of banner and clothing.

The Hedge-shaping rules described in Changeling apply as usual, but the presence of violence may impose penalties or bonuses to the roll. Attempts to shift the terrain to match the conflict receive a +2 bonus, while attempts to make the terrain less menacing receive a –2 penalty. Much as an open field might be preferable for a clash, the Hedge’s psychoactive nature makes such a thing unlikely. The more bodies involved, the more tangled and bloody the Thorns.

Successful use of Hedge-shaping may grant minor environmental bonuses to rolls made by the shaper’s side. For instance, calling up thick grasses to conceal artillery might grant a bonus to Stealth rolls. These bonuses are rarely too hefty — usually only a +1 or so — but they can still prove to be a battle’s tipping point.

## Duels

Changelings, regardless of what the durance did to them, were born human. They are capable of settling disputes rationally, and understand that on many of the most important and emotional subjects, no one has the “right” answer. But sometimes, in matters of honor, love or vengeance, the Lost must be satisfied. In such situations, they often enact the tradition of dueling.

Dueling doesn’t always mean that one participant dies. Duels aren’t always violent contests, in fact. In Lost society, a duel is a contest between two changelings (or occasionally two motleys) enacted to settle a matter. Once the duel is concluded, the matter is considered settled and pursuing it further is a serious breach of etiquette and propriety. This, for changelings, can involve more than just a loss of social face.

### The Magic of the Duel

Travel to two freeholds on opposite sides of the globe, and both freeholds almost always have rules in place for settling disputes through dueling. Changelings that speculate on such matters believe that the tradition of the duel is a holdover from Arcadia — the Gentry use duels to settle their differences. Of course, Fae duels involve reshaping the world around them, changing form, altering natural laws, and such things are typically beyond the ability of the Lost. But the underlying principle remains the same: through the conclusion of a duel, a matter can be satisfied.

Changeling duels therefore share some properties with the notion of trial by combat. In this arrangement, the winner is assumed to be morally in the right. If this trial is used to settle a charge of murder, for instance, the accused is a free man if he can win the fight. A rational person would argue that because someone can win a fight doesn’t mean he is innocent on an unconnected matter, but where the Fae are concerned, “rational” isn’t always the highest consideration. Once the Gentry duel on a subject, reality (as they know it) reforms around the result of the duel — the winner is right, because winning the duel makes him right, because that was the agreement.

Given this, changelings don’t normally duel over such things. It’s not unknown for the Lost to engage in trial by combat, but it is extremely rare. Changelings, again, are still at least partly human and they have a human being’s ability to reason. As such, only a changeling with an extremely loose grip on reality (low Clarity, that is) would accept the result of trial by combat as determining guilt or innocence in a criminal matter.

Oaths, love and honor, however, are other matters entirely. Changelings fight duels over these principles regularly, precisely because they cannot be settled to everyone’s satisfaction by simple observation of fact, but the poignant nature of these matters means that closure is necessary.

Duels, then, are fought to achieve satisfaction. When the duel is over, the insult no longer matters, because honor has been satisfied. A changeling forced or tricked into breaking an oath can appease the powers of Glamour by entering into a lawful duel and winning. A man who has vowed to fight on his beloved’s behalf can do so as a demonstration of love, and she is bound to whatever actions she agreed to should he win the duel.

### The Dark Side of the Duel

Duels aren’t usually fought over physical property like land or wealth. Normally, something more ephemeral is at stake. Hector fought Achilles in single combat, knowing he would lose, because to flee would have marked him as a coward. John Henry entered into a contest with a steam drill knowing that the ordeal would kill him, because to back down would be to admit that machine could replace man. In such instances, the contest takes on a sense of inevitability, the feeling that outcome is not in question, but the ritual of it must be satisfied. And indeed, changelings often find themselves agreeing to duels that they don’t stand much chance of winning, because it seems to “fit” that the duel take place.

More rational changelings see the stain of the Gentry on this attitude. The Gentry’s duels resemble stories, and things fall into place as they should. Time spent in Arcadia often takes on a kind of fairytale quality. This only makes sense, but it does set changelings to wondering — if the Gentry live their lives according to the patterns and principles of stories, does that mean that such stories originated with the Others, or that humanity influenced Them? And where does that leave the changelings?

On a more concrete level, changelings that enter into duels sometimes feel, even for a moment, that they are adrift in their own bodies, their actions happening according to a pre-planned set of events that they can only influence on the most basic levels. And then the feeling passes and the duel continues, but for some changelings, the feeling lingers. Some of the Lost swear never to engage in duels to avoid giving the Gentry whatever perverse satisfaction they might gain, while others engage in duels as often as possible to study the phenomenon. And some changelings do their best to nudge others of their kind into duels, so they can watch from afar, trying to identify Gentry influence.

### Reasons for Dueling

Why do changelings duel? As stated above, the motives behind dueling tend to be ideological rather than physical, but a more specific discussion of motive is of benefit to Changeling players.

Changeling society is, of course, built on oaths and agreements. From the magic that changelings wield (Contracts) to what power they hold over normal human beings (pledges), everything hinges on bargains and the power of the Wyrd to make them binding. Or, rather, the power to make consequences for breaking them — the Wyrd doesn’t force others to act in accordance with their oaths, it only ensures that those who dare to break their oaths suffer for it.

Dueling occupies a unique niche in this society. A duel can offer reparations for a broken vow (rather than a broken Oath; see sidebar). It can also offer a changeling who is otherwise bound by an oath a way to gather satisfaction on a particular matter. For example, a changeling who has sworn fealty to the seasonal king’s household cannot attack a member of that household without violating his oath, even if that noble has committed some unforgivable wrong to the Knight (deflowering his sister, for instance). The Knight can take his grievance up with his lord, of course, but this is chancy. It’s probably the Knight’s word (or his sister’s) against the accused noble’s, and changelings aren’t immune to nepotism. But the Knight can challenge the noble to a duel and enact the Dueling Oath (see below). In addition to whatever other parameters are set for the duel, it sidesteps any existing oaths that would prevent the duel from taking place, including the Knight’s oath of fealty.

This, in fact, is the major difference between an instance that could be settled by a fight rather than a duel. If, in the above example, the lecherous noble had taken advantage of the sister of a visiting changeling with no connection to the existing order, that changeling would be within his rights to jump the noble outside a bar and beat him with a sock full of quarters. The Wyrd would have nothing to say about it (the police might, of course, as might the noble’s allies). The involvement of the Wyrd grants the disagreement certain weight, gravity within the ongoing saga that connects all changelings to their erstwhile masters in Faerie. When that weight is involved, it’s best to make sure the duel takes place as it “should.” Again, this makes some of the Lost wonder whether or not they have truly escaped Arcadia if they must continue to live by its strictures, but most changelings agree it’s better to observe a little pomp and formality than risk getting yanked into the Hedge one dark night.

And besides, while not all changelings want to admit it, many of them get caught up in the spectacle, the formality and the chance to impress that a duel allows.

#### Honor

A duel for honor comes from a slight to a changeling’s character, moral rectitude, or ability. An insult can result in an honor duel, if it is particularly acidic (or hits too close to the mark for comfort), as can an insinuation that a changeling in a given position within a freehold shouldn’t hold it. An accusation of an actual, serious crime probably doesn’t merit a challenge to a duel, at least not immediately, because the justice systems of both fae and man are well able to deal with such infractions. But while an insult or aspersion has no real consequence as far as the human world is concerned, a changeling’s honor — his perception of himself and others’ perceptions of him — can change him. The duel, then, is to prove to the changeling and to any who might doubt his honor that he is who and what he says he is.

Note, of course, that reality doesn’t have to interfere. A changeling might call another a coward, and the accused can call for and win a duel — which doesn’t mitigate the fact that the accused might actually be a coward. Honor can be satisfied regardless of truth.

Fighting a duel over honor isn’t nearly as anachronistic a practice as it might sound at first. Most cultures have some concept of “face,” particularly on the street level. A boss in organized crime may have to brutally put down anyone who somehow puts his reputation at risk. The word “honor” doesn’t have to be mentioned at all.

Not all promises are created equal. A changeling might promise to be back at his motley’s side by morning; this is a vow, to be sure, more important than the previous promise, but it carries no magical weight. A changeling might swear on his name never to harm a woman — this is a pledge, and violating it carries some heavy consequences. The game draws a distinction between the two types of vow, though, and it’s logical to assume that changelings do as well.
In the first instance, breaking the promise would constitute a violation of Clarity and a chance for degeneration, if the changeling’s Clarity rating is 8 or higher. It is a promise, but the changeling has invested no real energy into it, and thus neither does the Wyrd. In the second instance, the promise is a pledge, and the changeling has invested magic and something highly personal in it: his name. Violating it would involve not only whatever sanctions are specified in the pledge itself, but also a chance for degeneration at Clarity 4 or higher.
Changelings can tell the difference between a casual promise and a vow enforced by the Wyrd, but that doesn’t mean they don’t regard both as important. Changelings regard breaking a promise as unlucky and dangerous — not only does keeping one’s word reinforce the changeling’s grip on reality, but violating a promise is bait for the Gentry. This means, though, that finding ways to get around the spirit of an oath while keeping true to the letter is an art form among the Lost. Duels are considered an honorable way to do so.

#### Love

Changelings don’t normally fight duels for the hand of a fair lady — changelings, again, are born of the modern world, and in the modern world, the fair lady gets to choose her own suitor. That said, a duel might be over the right to a kiss, the right to a date, or even the right to gaze upon a particular woman’s face, if the lady in question consents (and, yes, change the gender and the point still holds). Sometimes a vow made out of love can result in a duel; a changeling who promises to defend his lover’s honor is effectively at that lover’s mercy, as she can claim a slight at any provocation, forcing the changeling into the position of challenging the offender to a duel whether or not the lover actually feels offended. Of course, this kind of trust is exactly what propels the vow in the first place, and the suitor probably gains something out of the promise (the lover might well suffer consequences from using it frivolously).

Another permutation of the love duel is the battle that takes place between two lovers. A couple’s spat, between changelings, can take on dangerous significance if one party reveals a secret or violates an oath in the heat of anger, and a formal duel can give both parties time to cool down and approach the matter rationally. Also, a cynical changeling might say, a duel is very much like a lover’s tiff anyway — it doesn’t normally solve anything, when it does solve something it involves lots of heartache and tears, and it’s probably indicative of a larger issue anyway.

#### Vengeance

Duels fought for vengeance are the most likely to be fought to the death. Honor can be satisfied with a touch, or a wound, or a point. Love duels aren’t meant to be deadly — love is meant to survive. But for a changeling to challenge out of vengeance, he must want to hurt his opponent. The usual point about duels being secondary to physical, understandable crimes doesn’t apply here — a changeling might challenge his brother’s murderer to a duel before the subject is convicted (or even accused) of the murder.

Of course, it is possible to challenge a changeling to this sort of duel to avoid or even taint an investigation into such a crime. If the accuser murdered his brother himself, but then challenges his brother’s enemy to a duel and kills him, in many changelings’ minds that sets the seal on the enemy’s guilt.

Using the Dueling Oath this way, though, is dangerous. While a duel is not a trial-by-combat (that is the guilty party doesn’t always lose), the Wyrd doesn’t like changelings using the duel for their own purposes or going into a duel with a double agenda. If the duel is to be sanctified, as it were, then the participants must believe in their positions. The accused in a vengeance duel doesn’t have to be innocent, but he does have to be unrepentant (if he wants to win, that is, which he might not). The challenger, though, must have a clear mind on the subject of revenge. The vengeance must be important enough to invoke the duel, or tragedy might befall him (see the Dueling Oath, below).

### The Etiquette of the Challenge

A changeling that challenges another to a duel is taking a risk; the usual etiquette allows the defender some latitude in determining the form of the duel. A changeling might challenge another to a “duel of swords,” but that might leave the defender to decide if the duel will be decided by first blood, a fencing contest in which no blood at all is spilled, or a brutal duel to the death with longswords. A “duel of words” might be rhetorical debate or a poetry contest. Different freeholds have different standards of etiquette concerning issuing challenges. This, of course, means that the Storyteller needs to decide what the prevailing etiquette is, or allow the players to do so, should it become relevant in the chronicle. Some possibilities follow (and remember that as the seasons change, customs change):

* **Defender’s Choice**: The defender names the type and circumstances of the duel, and even designs the Dueling Oath. If this is the custom of the freehold, duels are clearly rare, since challenging another changeling to a duel automatically gives him the upper hand. Hiding one’s own capabilities becomes an art form. A changeling might accept a duel, but then he has to name the terms, which means playing to his strengths while putting his opponent at a disadvantage. This is only possible if he knows what his opponent’s weak points are. This kind of arrangement is most common when the Winter Court is in power.
* **Aggressor’s Choice**: The changeling making the challenge makes all the arrangements, including creating the Dueling Oath, obtaining permission from the local ruler (if necessary), and procuring weapons, materials, space and Judges. Some freeholds require that all of this is in place before the challenge is even made, meaning that the defender can refuse the duel and put all of that work to waste. Others stipulate that the aggressor makes the challenge in a general way (making it clear that the duel is to be decided by combat, for instance) and then makes the rest of the arrangements once the duel is accepted. This format puts a great deal of responsibility on the challenger, but it also grants him tremendous advantage. In such a freehold, duels are seldom used to determine matters of life and death — duels of honor or love are more common. That isn’t to say that combat duels are unknown, just that they usually go to first blood, rather than to death. Summer Court freeholds often use this arrangement.
* **Aggressor’s Challenge, Defender’s Oath**: In this arrangement, the challenger specifies the type of duel, in as much detail as he wishes (“I challenge you to pistols at dawn,” “Let’s settle this with a duel of magic,” etc.), but the defender crafts the Dueling Oath. This allows the aggressor to set the immediate tableau for the duel, but many of the important decisions are up to the defender. Once the defender has accepted the duel, it is customary for the challenger to cope with whatever Oath the defender wishes to create, but terribly lopsided Oaths are grounds for the challenge being rescinded. This kind of arrangement places the two sides on roughly equal footing, but places much of the power in the hands of the defender — provided he is a canny oath-crafter. The Autumn Court favors this sort of arrangement.
* **All in Agreement**: The aggressor can challenge using as general or as specific a declaration as he wishes, but no duel takes place before all parties are satisfied with the wording of the Dueling Oath. Either side may employ an advocate (someone skilled in pledge crafting), and the process of coming to terms might take weeks or months. This has two effects. First, the contest is usually equal; even if one participant isn’t as skilled as the other, he usually has time to shore up his abilities. Second, both participants have time to rethink their declaration and retract the duel. If other options for resolving the dispute become obvious during the negotiations, or if tempers cool, the duel might be avoided entirely or the terms softened. This system is most common when the Spring Court is ascendant.

### Defining the Duel

A duel isn’t always a physical fight. Changelings have invented or adapted so many different kinds of duels that selecting the duel is perhaps the greatest strategic move that a participant can make. Three main factors go into defining a duel: the freehold in which it takes place, the overall type of duel (physical, mental, mystical or social) and the matter over which the duel is being fought.

#### Freehold

The freehold in which a changeling lives exerts two obvious points of control over the duels the residents fight. First, all freeholds have traditions. Duels might always be fought under the full moon, or during the day, or in the Hedge (which would certainly prevent them from happening too frequently). Duels to the death might be forbidden, or they might be the only duels allowable. What sorts of duels are traditional in a freehold is, of course, largely up to the Storyteller, and some advice for figuring this out is presented later in this chapter.

The second point of control, of course, is the freehold’s ruler. A king or queen might demand that no changeling die as a result of a duel, or they might stipulate that a lawful duel invalidates all other oaths. The ruler might wish to be present at all duels, but place no other restrictions, meaning the only wrongful duel is a secret one (lover’s duels, of course, are often secret). The ruler might insist on a certain amount of decorum, a formal declaration of intent, even a signed letter. Many rulers insist on approving all duels, if for no other reason than to make sure that they know what is happening in their lands.

It is, of course, quite possible to have a duel without consent or knowledge from the ruler. A ruler only has power over those changelings that have sworn fealty. A stranger to the area, or a changeling who has, for whatever reason, refused to swear fealty, won’t have much in the way of Court Goodwill but also isn’t bound by the same restrictions. Of course, refusing to play by the rules means the outsider doesn’t enjoy the same protections that everyone else does.

##### Examples

Track-Running: Some of the changelings in New York City practice this dangerous but exciting duel. The two challengers stand on the edge of a subway tunnel and wait for the train. At the last possible second, they fall forward, opening a gateway to the Hedge between the rails as they fall (normally, the participants have “seconds” waiting in the Hedge to catch them). The trick, of course, is being the last one to fall forward, having enough control to fall in the right place, open the gateway at the precise instant, and, of course, not get hit by a train.

**The Blade Promise:** During the season of autumn in a freehold near St. Paul, the Autumn Queen decreed some years back that anyone wishing to have a duel involving physical combat must use a sword, knife or other bladed weapon. Popular rumor has it that she did this to inspire fear of her own skills as a fencer, and it’s true that her prowess with a blade is legendary. But the truth is somewhat more benign. The Queen’s Keeper used her as a sparring partner, and over the course of her durance, cut her into pieces and reformed her so many times she has become the jigsaw-like Manikin she is today. Fighting with a blade means a desire to hurt, and she wants to make sure any potential duelists have considered that.

**The Dueling House:** Only a handful of changelings live in the area surrounding and including the University of Michigan, and most of them belong to the Winter Court. Any kind of duel is permissible here, and the ruler does not wish to know about them. All he demands is that the duelists go to an abandoned farmhouse miles outside of the city and complete their business there. No Judges or witnesses are allowed. The ruler and most of the changelings of the freehold do not want duels near them for fear that a contest between the Lost might draw the notice of a Keeper.

### Type

A “duel” can refer, among changelings, to any contest that requires a clear winner. This means that, no matter the type of duel, the parameters must be decided upon before the duel actually begins.

A physical duel is probably the easiest to judge. Physical duels may be fought with a variety of weapons, and be decided by a great number of factors: first blood, knockout, until concession, or death, to name a few. A physical duel might consist of a stilted swordfight in which switching from one hand to the other constitutes instant forfeiture, or a messy, unrestrained brawl with no rules except one: the man who doesn’t get up loses. A physical duel might be fought with pistols, swords, knives, staves or bare hands, but then, it might not be a “fight” at all. A test of strength, endurance or reflexes is also a physical duel, and while changelings don’t settle differences via arm-wrestling contests often, it’s not impossible. Physical duels might consist of escalating feats of prowess. One participant lifts a weight, the next lifts a heavier one, and so on until one changeling is forced to drop out. More artful changelings might dance or execute graceful *kata* in duels that skirt the border between physical and social.

Another, related possibility is that two changelings from an oathbound motley might have a matter that they believe can only be settled by a duel. This isn’t as uncommon as one might think. Changelings, especially recent arrivals from the Hedge, often bind themselves into overly restrictive motley oaths and then find they have no way to settle legitimate grievances without angering the Wyrd. Entering into a lawful duel allows them to settle the matter without violating a previous oath.
Of course, an enemy can take advantage of this, especially one clever enough to poison the members of a motley against one another. If two changelings in the same motley fight to the death, what will happen to the rest of the members, even if their oath remains intact? Will more duels result, or will one of them simply break the oath that binds them, dissolving the motley?

A mental duel makes use of the participant’s problem-solving skill, knowledge or wits. A changeling accepting such a duel had best make sure the Judge (and such contests always require a Judge) is someone he trusts. If the contest is to be the first to work out a riddle or a puzzle, the winner can be identified fairly objectively, but what if the contest is decided by rhetoric or knowledge of obscure fact? The Judge, then, has to be conversant in the subject matter. For that matter, who decides on the specifics of the duel? A changeling who accepts a challenge and allows the challenger to spell it out is a fool. Mental battles are tricky because, normally, they have a right answer and someone knows it. Who’s to say that someone isn’t susceptible to bribery or pressure?

A social duel uses reputation, intimidation, shame and sometimes art as weapons. A social duel might take the form of a song contest — whoever moves the heart of the stoic Elemental, for instance, might win. Such a duel might take the form of the tarocchi appropriati parlor games of the 15th century, in which the precursors to modern Tarot cards were used to tell humorous stories about the players. Or, disregarding formality altogether, the contest might be a game of the dozens. The one who stands flustered or cannot think of a retort is the one who loses. Social duels are, obviously, highly subjective and thus require impartial Judges. Such duels sometimes take place before a crowd, and the laughter or reaction is used as the yardstick by which to measure the winner. As with mental duels, choosing the wrong Judge or agreeing to the wrong challenge can be dangerous, especially when the outcome can’t be judged objectively.

A mystical duel uses the participant’s Contracts and power over the Wyrd to determine the winner. Mystical duels are actually fairly rare among changelings, for two reasons. First, it’s rare that two changelings with similar mystical proclivities duel, but if they aren’t using the same kinds of magic, it’s hard for the fight to be considered fair. For instance, an Ogre who has mastered the Contracts of Stone might battle a Fairest known for his knowledge of the Contracts of Vainglory — but what form would the battle take? The Ogre might be ensorcelled before he lands a blow, or if he’s not, one blow would probably kill the Fairest (this isn’t to say that duels like this don’t happen, just that they aren’t common). Second, intense displays of sheer magic, while not exactly taboo, run the risk of alerting both mortals and the Gentry to the duel’s location.

That said, though, it’s very common for other types of duels to allow Contracts, but for some limits to be set. The changelings might be limited to one clause each (meaning that an Ogre could use Might of the Terrible Brute as many times as he wished during the fight, but could not use Ogre’s Rending Grasp without forfeiting the duel), or they might be allowed to use only Contracts with visible effects (meaning that Court Contracts that alter emotion, such as Growth of the Ivy, are disallowed).

One particular kind of mystical duel that most freeholds recognize is the Glamour-gathering duel. The participants are each given a Hollow Heart (see sidebar) and a certain amount of time in which to fill it with Glamour. If the participants belong to the same Court, the contest usually requires that the changelings use the appropriate emotion to fill the bag, meaning an Autumn duel becomes a contest of who can gather the most fear in a given span of time. Both participants are normally given a chaperone to make sure they don’t cheat by having a motley or an ally “prep” a group of mortals ahead of time. A rumor still floats around the American Southwest that an Autumn Court Hunterheart tried to help his Fairest lover win such a contest by luring a group of campers into a system of caves and chasing them through the tunnels, pretending to be a hideous monster. This ended badly, the story goes, when the Hunterheart called up an actual monster from deep in the Earth. The Fairest arrived, hoping to find terrified mortals, but found only blood, sinew, and no trace of her lover.

This token can be made out of any receptacle roughly large enough to hold a bowling ball, but the traditional material is the heart of a cow or a similarly sized animal. This receptacle must be left in the Hedge near an established gateway that serves as the focus for intense emotions (funeral parlors, comedy clubs, and churches during wedding season are good choices). When the token forms, it can hold Glamour, growing heavier as it becomes full.
A changeling cannot shunt Glamour from his own pool into the bag, but can fill it by harvesting Glamour from emotion as described on p. 89 of Changeling: The Lost. Once the Glamour is in the bag, the changeling can remove it and use it to fill his pool. A Hollow Heart holds up to 20 points of Glamour.
**Action:** Reflexive (must be activated whenever the changeling means to fill it).
**Mien:** No matter what the Hollow Heart was before becoming a token, its mien is a leathery, saggy, flesh-like sack. As it fills with Glamour, it becomes warm (if the emotions are predominantly anger- or desire-based) or cold (if they are sorrow- or fear-based) to the touch.
**Drawback:** The bag “smacks” the edges like lips, hungry for more sustenance. The changeling needs to be careful about fighting while carrying the bag. If the changeling is wounded, the bag absorbs blood (the purest form of emotion, one might say). It upgrades one bashing damage to lethal damage per turn.
**Catch:** The Hollow Heart is greedy, and it absorbs some of the changeling’s emotions, too. This isn’t enough to increase the Glamour, but it does make the use aloof and apathetic for an hour afterwards (calculated based on the most recent use). This applies a –2 to all Social rolls (which can be hell on collecting more Glamour) and a –2 to Initiative.

### Matter

The matter of the duel has been discussed somewhat already, above. Most duels boil down to honor, love or revenge. Drawing a sharp distinction between the three matters isn’t always necessary, as most freeholds don’t treat honor duels differently than love duels, or even recognize such categories. The important thing when considering the matter of a duel is to examine what the duelists want out of the exercise.

In general terms, a challenger is looking for “satisfaction.” He wishes to put his mind at rest on whatever the matter is. If he has been slighted, he wants to feel better about himself. If his love has been wounded (in whatever sense), he wants to feel that he has defended her. If he has been wronged, he wants to see his enemy suffer.

Duels are inherently a selfish exercise. No real attempt is made at justice or reparation; for this to happen, the accused would have to submit to higher authority and the result would be a trial, not a duel. In a duel, the stronger and more skillful opponent, not the more righteous, not the more passionate, wins.

As such, when undertaking a duel, either as the player of a challenger or the Storyteller of an antagonist character, consider what the objective is. Consider it from the strict perspective of the character, first. If asked, what would the character say the point of the duel is? How does the character envision a victory? And then, consider the question from a step back, from a more objective perspective. What is the character really seeking? He can’t realistically get justice from slaughtering someone at dawn on a hilltop, can he? What is the real goal? Consider the duel from the vantage of the character’s Virtue and Vice. Say a character with the Virtue of Charity and the Vice of Wrath enters a duel — which is more important? If the duel was the result of a rash insult during Court, the character is probably acting within his Vice by fighting it. If the character agreed to fight the duel on someone else’s behalf, then Charity is obviously the driving force.

All of this is important when considering whether a duel is really what the character wants. After all, challenging another character to a duel usually puts a great deal of power in his hands. The defender normally names at least some of the specifics of the duel, and that means a challenger should expect to be faced with at least some disadvantage. Is the matter of the duel so important?

### Duel Traditions — The Courts

While specific traditions tend to arise at the level of the freehold, rather than of Court, it’s certainly true that the seasonal Courts do invite certain kinds of duels over others. That’s not to say that Summer duels are always violent or that Autumn duels are always based on magical prowess, simply that the dominant emotions and goals of the Courts inform duels, as they do everything else about the fae that wear the Mantles.

#### Duels of the Spring Court

It might be tempting to say that a Spring Courtier would duel only for love, but it would also be wrong. The Spring Court is the Court of Desire, but also the Court of hope. It is a permissive Court, yes, but not a Court that allows freedom at the expense of someone else’s. Among changelings, as among human beings, someone is always ready to exploit those who feel, who pine and who want. And so the Lost of the Antler Crown have ample reasons, unfortunately, to enter into duels of vengeance or honor as well as love.

Spring Court duels tend to be focused on renewal. After the harsh, barren winter comes the new growth of spring, after all, and so when a Spring Court monarch approves a duel, her question is invariably, “How will this help you heal?” The changelings involved must know what satisfaction the duel should grant, but also what the next step after the duel’s completion will be. If the challenger loses a duel of vengeance, can he be satisfied knowing he tried his best and failed, or will he seek other avenues of revenge? If a defender wins a challenge of love, does he feel compelled to make amends for whatever prompted the duel, even if he proved himself on the battlefield? If two changelings battle for honor, such an ephemeral, subjective notion, what is it they really want?

Another focus for duels within the Emerald Court is passion. The Court’s duels may be formal, but they are in no way unrestrained. Combat duels surprise onlookers with their ferocity, while social duels move witnesses to tears with the beauty of songs or with the vitriol in the insults. A Spring Courtier would never accept a duel that wasn’t important to her (which is something other fae should bear in mind when making challenges). A Spring Courtier might accept a duel as a formality (see p. 44), but if she does so, it is because she knows that not accepting the duel would be tragic — her passion still leads the decision.

Duels between Spring Court fae sometimes happen at dawn, somewhere that they can see the sun rising, but less formal duels can occur in pubs over copious amounts of alcohol (social duels, especially — in vino veritas, and all). The Spring Court has varying views on witnesses for duels. Some courtiers want to have as wide an audience as possible, seeking to showcase their skill (but mostly their passion). For others, especially those fighting in duels of vengeance, they would rather no one witness what anger can drive them to do.

Physical Spring duels are seldom fought to the death (with one major exception, explained presently). The Court’s focus on hope and renewal makes them reluctant to believe that anyone is irredeemable. Contests of endurance and dexterity are more common than actual battles, but the Spring Court also boasts some impressive fencers. The one matter that commonly pushes a Spring Courtier to challenge an enemy to the death is betrayal to the Gentry. The Antler Crown, so focused on rejoining the world after an endless waking nightmare, cannot countenance a changeling willingly selling another out to the Fae.

Mental duels in the Spring Court usually involve solving a problem quickly, drawing on common sense and ingenuity rather than specific knowledge. Even when a changeling has to use what he knows, the Skills involved tend to be practical rather than theoretical — the changeling will be asked to use the Skill and create something, rather than just think about it.

Social duels, of course, are what most changelings think of if someone mentions “Spring Court duels,” whether it’s justified or not. It’s true that the Court of Desire produces some of the most passionate works of art imaginable, and its members’ attention to humanity allows them a constantly evolving base of knowledge with which to approach such duels. Song, poetry and other such contests of beauty are more common in the Spring Court than roasts — the Court seeks to arouse desire and create something new, even while burying hatchets.

Mystical Spring duels range from subtle, barely noticeable affairs in which each participant tries to alter the desires of the other to wild, raucous orgies concealing Glamour expenditures of truly momentous proportions. Some duels even involve the healing magic of the Spring Court — the first one to be unable to heal himself (and therefore the first to drop over from blood loss) loses.

**Spring Court Physical Duel — Pistols at Dawn:** This duel resembles the classic battle with pistols. Both combatants take 10 paces, turn and fire one shot. The guns are normally loaded with simple lead slugs, but if the duel is to the death it’s not unknown for the combatants to use hollow point rounds or something equally unpleasant. Since the Spring Court is the only Court with easy access to healing magic, this duel is more common in the Spring Court because it is less likely to be fatal. In fact, this duel is considered serious when the participants battle barefaced. Over lesser offenses, they wear masks to minimize damage to the face should a shot go astray. **Systems:** Initiative and firearms rules as laid out in the World of Darkness Rulebook.

**Spring Court Mental Duel — The Bartender’s Duel:** Usually used to settle disputes of prowess, from “who’s the life of the party?” to “who’s the better lover?”, the Bartender’s Duel is a treat for any changelings in the immediate area. It requires an extremely well-stocked bar and a master Spring Court bartender (usually a Wizened Brewer), and isn’t the sort of duel where anyone leaves unhappy. Both participants are given a list of three to five ingredients and a set amount of time to work, usually between 10 and 30 minutes. Whoever makes the best drink wins. “Best,” of course, is up to the Judges, and a wise changeling doesn’t agree to this contest unless he knows that his concoction will be judged by multiple changelings with whose palettes he is familiar. **Systems:** Intelligence + Streetwise (knowing the Judges and what sorts of drinks they like), Wits + Socialize (mixing the drinks; probably an extended action).

**Spring Court Social Duel — Pygmalion’s Battle:** This duel is, on the face of it, a sculpting contest. If the duel is fought on somewhat friendly terms, or at least over a matter that neither participant wants to hurt or be hurt over, the two changelings usually craft grotesque caricatures of one another. If the duel is more serious, however, they use special goblin fruits, mashed and worked into the clay, to allow the statues to come to life for a brief period. The combatants then send their monsters to fight, with the statue left standing determining the winner. **Systems:** Dexterity + Crafts to sculpt the statue, Manipulation + Expression to direct it in battle.

**Spring Court Mystical Duel — The Strings of Desire:** The Spring Court’s Contracts allow them a terrifying degree of control over desire, and this duel makes use of these powers (Fleeting Spring in particular). This duel is normally invoked when the defender is accused of misusing such powers, or even his natural charisma, to seduce or manipulate a mortal in an exploitive manner, such as using Growth of Ivy to force a mortal into a sexual situation. Both parties prepare a drink for the other, sit at a table, and try to amplify the other’s desire to imbibe the drink to the point that he has no choice. Of course, this duel quickly becomes an exercise in psychological as well as mystical warfare — Contracts of Fleeting Spring are the most direct way, but the changeling that takes the time to discover her opponent’s favorite drink, and what subjects she can bring up that make him want to drink, is probably going to win. Traditionally, there are no rules against poisoning the cup, either. **Systems:** Fleeting Spring can be found on pp. 149–150 of Changeling: The Lost, but other dice pools might include Wits + Investigation
(ahead of time, to learn the opponent’s history), Wits + Subterfuge (to recognize psychological faults) and Manipulation + Intimidation (to unsettle the opponent enough for the Contracts to take full effect).

### Duels of the Summer Court

The Summer Court, predictably, is known for duels of honor and vengeance, duels involving a variety of weapons and styles, and duelist codes that prohibit unskilled but passionate changelings from dying at the hands of formidable warriors. Many of the stories about the Court of Wrath and its attitudes on dueling are accurate — the Summer Court is known as a warrior’s Court for a reason. But the Iron Spear takes duels very seriously, and it examines any challenge with this question in mind: is the matter at hand worth the possible consequences? If a duel would result in a changeling being exiled from a freehold for a year and day, that’s one fewer changeling to fight against the Gentry, should it become necessary. If the duel would result in a loss of face or a broken oath, the political and emotional ramifications might present the fae of the area with a weakness that their enemies could exploit. Duels aren’t forbidden in the Crimson Court, but the Summer changelings do try to approach them with the correct attitudes.

Of course, the Court of Wrath isn’t just a pretty title. In fact, a major focus of Summer duels is wrath. A changeling who challenges another to a duel needs to care enough, to be angry enough, to make that bargain. Oaths are serious business to all changelings, but to the Summer fae, ready to lay down their lives rather than go back into slavery, the matter must be especially intense to lead to a duel. If the matter is transient and if the changeling could settle it with a simple brawl, that might be the way to approach it. Of course, sometimes a standing oath prevents this, as discussed above, and a duel is the only recourse for satisfaction.

The Summer Court understands this — the fae of the Court hunger for justice. It offends the Court’s basic sense of fairness that a wrong goes unpunished, but by the same token, the Summer Court’s ethics don’t always lend themselves to letting a higher authority handle such things. A wrong that must be answered, but that is too slight for the local authorities (changeling or mortal) or that cannot be proven, might result in a duel. Attempts to hide such a crime from one seeking a duel is especially infuriating to the Summer Court — the mortal courts might presume innocence, but the Crimson Court knows guilt, and it presumes only justice.

Physical duels in the Summer Court take a wide variety of forms, not all of them combat-related. Yes, the Court engages in swordfights, pistol duels, boxing matches and elaborate, three-stage affairs incorporating all of these methods, and such battles are entrancing to watch simply because of the intensity of the combatants. But for duels between opponents of widely varying skill in combat, tests of endurance or strength are sometimes worked into the duel. Some Summer fae, though, feel that if a changeling doesn’t have the skill to fight a duel properly, he shouldn’t be doing whatever he did to invite the duel.

Mental Summer duels usually rely on the participants’ knowledge of tradition and fact. Sometimes they argue their cases before an impartial Judge, sometimes (especially in cases of duels of honor) they recite history and precedent, hoping to convince a panel or jury. The preparation required for these duels is intense, especially since learning “precedent” is often a matter of tracking down other changelings who have fought similar duels and asking how those duels were resolved.

Social duels in the Court of Wrath resemble mental duels, but instead of quoting precedent and arguing from a factual or traditional standpoint, the participants do their best to persuade the Judge(s) by appealing to emotion. A Summer changeling who is known as a leader or a rabblerouser might not have to rely on fact, but learns where the Judges’ hot-buttons are and uses them to deafen the Judges to his opponent’s arguments.

Mystical duels in the Crimson Court are just as varied and spectacular as physical duels. Summer fae don’t have the same kind of fascination with magic that Autumn fae tend to, true, but they do recognize that Contracts rely on the same kind of honor and magic that swearing the Dueling Oath does. That is, by entering into the agreement with the Wyrd, by taking on the responsibility of using the magic, a changeling places a limit upon himself. A mystical duel is about recognizing those adopted limitations while allowing Glamour to flow freely.

**Summer Court Physical Duel — The Bladeless Battle:** The two combatants arm themselves with blunt weapons. These might be highly ornate clubs or simple baseball bats, but the result is unrestrained combat. The battle is meant to go on longer than a fight with blades would, and some participants wear armor or padding (especially if the duel is over a matter that neither participant feels warrants severe injury or death). **Systems:** Standard combat rules; a Storyteller might rule that a called shot to the head inflicts lethal damage rather than bashing — see Specified Targets on p. 165 of the World of Darkness Rulebook).

**Summer Court Mental Duel — Appeal for Peace:** This duel is sometimes invoked when the aggressor in a challenge is clearly a far superior combatant than the defender. The defender can appeal for peace, making the case before a Judge (that both combatants must agree upon) that the fight doesn’t need to take place, because the defender is innocent or justified. The participants can use any arguments they feel are relevant, and when both have made their cases, the Judge decides either in favor of the defender (in which case the matter is resolved, and the duel is over) or the challenger (in which case the matter is resolved by a physical duel, which gives the defender another chance to win, however slim). **Systems:** Manipulation + Politics (making the argument based on precedent); Presence + Persuasion (begging for clemency).

**Summer Court Social Duel — Staredown:** This duel might seem simplistic, but it is actually quite nuanced. The participants stare each other in the eyes, and, of course, if one backs down and breaks eye contact, he loses. But he has another option — throw a punch. If the punch is fake (that is, the aggressor pulls the punch before it connects), and the other participant flinches, the aggressor wins. If the aggressor pulls the punch, and the defender does not flinch, the defender wins the duel. But if the punch connects, and the defender remains standing, the staredown becomes a fistfight and the duel is resolved that way. Finally, if the aggressor throws a real punch but manages to knock the opponent down, the battle is over and the aggressor wins. **System:** Manipulation + Brawl (throwing a convincing fake punch) contested by Wits + Brawl (recognizing a fake punch); Strength + Brawl (throwing a punch; apply a penalty equal to the opponent’s Strength instead of Defense, and success means the defender must check for Knockdown as described on p. 168 of the World of Darkness Rulebook).

**Summer Court Mystical Duel — No Catches:** This duel, commonly invoked between powerful practitioners of magic, prohibits the use of catches for Contracts. All Glamour for fae magic must come from the changelings’ own pool, meaning the duel is a contest of Glamour management as much as anything else. One opponent might try to outlast the other, relying on avoiding her attacks until she runs out of Glamour. Or, an opponent might try to strike at the other’s weak points, using Contracts against which he has no easy defense. **Systems:** Game mechanics for Contracts and catches, of course, can be found in Changeling: The Lost.

### Duels of the Autumn Court

The Autumn Court probably has the greatest variety of duels in all of the fae Courts, simply because they choose their dueling traditions from as wide a palette as they do with their magic. They welcome the chance to learn how other Courts, freeholds and even supernatural beings resolve their differences, because, of course, a new approach to a duel might yield a new use for Glamour or a new weapon against the Gentry. Autumn fae are also more open than other changelings to fighting symbolic duels, in which little is actually at stake except the shame of defeat.

This is because Autumn duels focus on being innovative. Every duel should be a learning experience. Duels to the death are uncommon because they are wasteful, but duels in which the loser is assigned to serve the winner for a specific period of time (a lunar month, a single night, a year and day, etc.) are quite common. It’s not unknown, in fact, for a young Autumn changeling who wishes to learn from a more powerful member of the Court to challenge him to a duel, knowing that the result will be a period of indentured servitude (and therefore apprenticeship, at least to some degree).

Duels in the Ashen Court, of course, are also frightening. No matter what the duelists stand to gain or lose, there must always be some element of risk. Autumn duels are commonly fought in the Hedge, and this by itself is enough to put some fear into the participants — using the weapons of the Fae, in their domain, under an oath? All of these are risky behaviors, and the Autumn Court combines them. But that is the point; the changelings of the Leaden Mirror are always looking for new possibilities, new glimpses of the Wyrd. And that involves risk, even the risk of recapture.

**Autumn Court Physical Duel — Fight to First Blood:** The combatants meet each other armed with special token blades that ignore armor and even cloth, meaning that fighting defensively becomes the most important thing in the duel. But a further wrinkle is that the duelists can deny the cut, spending a point of Glamour to prevent their wounds from bleeding visibly (this is also a property of the blades). A duelist, therefore, doesn’t have any idea how badly injured his opponent is, and can continue to press on, hoping that the opponent will acknowledge her wounds and concede before he passes out from blood loss. **Systems:** Dexterity + Weaponry in a contested action against an opponent’s attack to parry a blow (this is an instant action); both parties should reveal their intent to strike or parry at the same time. Wits + Medicine to guess how injured the opponent is based on his facial expressions and speed of movement.

**Autumn Court Mental Duel — Traps:** This duel consists of one or both parties being placed in a room and having to escape before something painful or fatal happens. The trap itself is usually the product of the opponent’s imagination, but a duelist agreeing to this sort of contest needs to be careful — if he doesn’t phrase the Dueling Oath well, his opponent might well hire a Wizened carpenter to construct a near-inescapable trap. The trap can be as simple as a collapsing wall or as fiendish as a maze slowly filling with carbon monoxide, depending on what is at stake and how the combatants want to approach the duel. In either case, escape through the Hedge is usually seen as both immediate forfeiture of the duel and a good way to save one’s skin if escape becomes truly untenable. **Systems:** Dexterity + Crafts as an extended action (building the trap), Intelligence + Investigation as an extended action (figuring out the trap).

**Autumn Court Social Duel — Psychological Warfare:** Everyone has secrets they would prefer to keep buried. This duel, however, consists of protracted investigation of the opponent, followed by messages, hints and rumors designed to destroy his social standing by undermining his self-control and stability. The simplest way to attack a changeling’s stability, of course, is to attack Clarity, and a good (if cruel) approach is to learn about the target’s durance and arrange for a reenactment. Rumors fly, of course, about changelings whose durances were so faithfully recreated that their Keepers actually appeared to reclaim them. **Systems:** Intelligence + Investigation (learning about a character’s durance); Manipulation + Intimidation (verbal psychological warfare); Resolve + Composure (resisting the terror of having one’s durance revisited).
**Autumn Court Mystical Duel — The House of Doors:** Both participants must move through a series of gateways in and out of the Hedge, in a predetermined order. The duelists usually arrange to have “checkpoints” set up so that a third party verifies that the order of the doors is correct. The duel measures skill at navigating the Hedge, as well as physical speed. If the surrounding mystical terrain permits it, the duelists might be required to use keys to open certain gateways, rather than simply using Glamour. **Systems:** Mechanics for opening gateways into and out of the Hedge and for using keys can be found on pp. 210–220 of Changeling: The Lost.

### Duels of the Winter Court

Do the Winter Courtiers even fight duels? It seems almost antithetical to the Court’s mores that they would. But the notions of honor, love and vengeance are just as poignant to the Silent Arrow as to any other changelings, and sometimes only a duel will suffice for restitution.

What the Winter Court doesn’t do, predictably, is make a show of it. Winter duels are normally resolved with only the duelists, a witness or Judge, and (depending on the nature of the duel), a second. If a Winter Courtier fights a member of another Court, he hews to whatever customs the freehold or the opponent’s Court lays down, but if the matter is between two adherents of the Onyx Crown, odds are no one else hears about it until it’s long over.

The reason for this focus on secrecy is obvious: the Winter Court believes that only by keeping its collective head down can it avoid the notice of the Gentry. The Gentry can be fooled, of course (every changeling refugee is proof of that), but duels attract them. It’s no coincidence that changelings look to duels to settle disputes; they learned it from their masters, like Haitian slaves adopting Catholicism. That doesn’t mean that duels are meaningless; the Winter Court is well aware of the satisfaction that a duel can bring (and the sorrow it brings to the loser). But publicizing them is asking to be swept back into captivity, and no matter is worth that. Winter duels are sometimes called “whispered duels.”

The challenge is usually delivered silently, via written missive, rather than with a public slap across the face and declaration. The terms are decided through intermediaries or letters (or, nowadays, e-mail). When the time of the duel arrives — and the Winter Court chooses these times almost at random, not wishing for traditionally significant times of day such as midnight or sundown — the participants do what they must and agree that the matter is closed. More important than the matter itself is that the duel must never lead the Others back into the changelings’ lives.

The second focus of Winter duels is finality. Whatever happens during the duel, that has to be the end of it. The Others can track down those They have lost through rumors and legends, and feuds fuel both. A Winter changeling that pursues a duel he has lost (or won, for that matter) can expect ostracism, at best, from his Court.

This doesn’t mean that duels to the death are any more common in the Winter Court than in the others, only that all parties must recognize that, win or lose, the duel marks the end of the matter. Winter monarchs sometimes require that both parties swear an oath never to speak of the matter again, or at least of the duel, before they will grant permission for the duel to take places.

Winter duels usually happen outdoors, far from any gateway that could open to the Hedge. If this is impractical, the Court sometimes assigns a scout to hide in the Hedge and give a signal if anything dangerous draws near. Again, though, the Court prefers as few witnesses as possible, and it’s not unknown for Winter Duels to happen with only the interested parties present, with no way to confirm the duel’s results but on their honor.

Physical Winter duels are often fought to first blood — this enables them to happen quickly. The participants use small, concealable blades, or sometimes silenced pistols, and the battle is over in seconds. Other physical duels include races (usually vertical, as they require less ground to be under scrutiny) or tests of stealth in which both parties must hide themselves from a Judge — a Beast Hunterheart, a Fate-sniffing Oracle, or even a captive Briarhound.

Mental duels among the Silent Arrow, not surprisingly, tend to rely on extant knowledge to solve problems. That is, such duels reward quick, decisive action, rather than flashy leaps of logic or esoterica. If it takes too long to discover a fact, the enemy will move on to the next stratagem and claim victory. The Winter credo, as in so many things, is think quickly, keep moving, and rely on what one has at hand.

Social duels in the Onyx Court are subtle and brutal. The Winter changelings can’t risk developing reputations, and so artistic duels usually leave behind beautiful but anonymous pieces. Insult contests are common, but often the duel is to determine who can deliver the most biting insult in the fewest words. Steel Mark, an Elemental with a penchant for brusque insults, once won a duel by saying only three words to his opponent: “Escape? Ha. Flotsam.”

Mystical Winter duels aren’t common because the Silent Arrow knows that grandiose displays of magic can attract the Others. Settling disputes through duels is fine, but the Winter Court is predicated on the notion that only by hiding can changelings remain safe. “Not common,” though, isn’t the same as “unheard of,” and mystical duels among Winter changelings are likely to be matters of tragic love or vengeance — something important enough to make a member of the Winter Court take such a risk.

**Winter Court Physical Duel — Ice Maiden’s Embrace:** This is a test of endurance, usually invoked to resolve matters of vengeance or honor. In either case, the challenger doesn’t necessarily want to win, he just wants to put the other party through as much pain as possible. The traditional way to enact this duel is in a frozen pond or river, though a vat of freezing water works as well. Both parties are slowly lowered in. The first one to give up and ask for release, or the first one to pass out, loses. **Systems:** Stamina + Resolve each turn to withstand the cold. See the effects of temperate extremes on p. 181 of the World of Darkness Rulebook.

**Winter Court Mental Duel — Riddles in the Dark:** Riddle contests are common manifestations of the mental duel, but the Winter Court has a specific way of handling them. The participants retire to someplace cold, dark and silent, and trade their riddles for as long as it takes for one member to be unable to answer. Cheating at the riddle contest (that is, asking a riddle that has no answer, or not admitting it when the opponent comes up with a correct response) is a dangerous move. The riddle contest is one of the oldest forms of duels known to the fae, and tales of changelings swallowed up by the darkness keep potential cheaters in line. **Systems:** Intelligence + Investigation to figure out a riddle (or to get a hint from the Storyteller, if the player would rather suss it out), Manipulation + Expression (to make up a new riddle).

**Winter Court Social Duel — The Whisper Gambit:** The combatants must convince other changelings of their righteousness in the duel by writing letters and spreading gossip — but all anonymous. That is, the other changelings of the area know who is involved in the duel, but not which participant a given letter is from. As such, it’s possible to win by writing letters meant to impersonate one’s opponent. The Whisper Gambit requires a pre-established way to send and receive letters, as well as a way for the recipients to make their decisions known. The Winter Court, fortunately, is usually well-equipped for this kind of communication. **Systems:** Manipulation + Expression (to write a convincing letter; this duel can be represented as an extended and contested action).

**Winter Court Mystical Duel — The Broken Glass:** Similar, in some ways, to the Strings of Desire duel (above), this duel consists of both participants using magic to break a glass of liquid. The traditional way is to freeze the liquid, which expands, thus shattering the glass, but it pays to know one’s opponent and what his magical proclivities are. The Broken Glass duel sometimes becomes a series of attempts to fulfill the catches on various clauses of Contracts, in an attempt to win the duel without expending Glamour (and thus attracting unwanted attention). **Systems:** Various, depending on the Contracts being employed.

## The Dueling Oath

A pledge isn’t necessary to cement a duel, but no sensible changeling would enter into a duel without the protection of the Wyrd behind it. Otherwise, the temptation to cheat is just too great (not that oaths completely obviate cheating; see below). The Dueling Oath is handled just as other pledges are (see p. 175 of Changeling: The Lost), but include a boon that most other edges don’t: the Sanctity of the Duel. This boon allows the participants to break oaths in pursuit of the duel without facing the sanctions normally associated with these oaths. For instance, a changeling might enter into a duel to the death with a member of his freehold, even though he has sworn an oath never to take the life of a fellow citizen. The Sanctity of the Duel protects him from the sanctions associated with killing (and thus violating the freehold’s oath). The duel, in effect, creates a loophole. The changelings can take actions within the duel that would normally be verboten.

The operative phrase, of course, is “within the duel.” Dueling Oaths should be very specific, both because of the power that they grant and because a clever changeling can use a badly-worded Dueling Oath in his favor.

Dueling Oaths often do not add up to zero the way other pledges do; this is because they seldom grant boons and normally don’t last longer than a day. The Sanctity of the Duel boon, though, is considered to be the “meat” of the pledge, and is important and powerful enough to make up the difference between the traits.

A Dueling Oath should include each of the following considerations:

* **Form of the Duel:** The most important consideration is what form the duel takes. If the Oath simply refers to the duel as a “fight,” and places no other specifications, one opponent might be within his rights to ambush the other and kill him in his sleep. The Oath should specify how the duel is going to be fought, where, when and with what weapons (if any).
* **Winning Condition:** How will victory be decided? If the duel is to the death, can one participant forfeit, or does someone have to die for the matter to be decided? If the duel is a mental or social one, is a Judge required? How will the Judge be decided upon? In duels where a Judge is necessary, the Judge usually swears a separate oath to remain impartial and to adjudicate based only on the matter at hand, rather than any external influence.

Participants need to be careful in deciding upon a winning condition. If the condition becomes impossible for whatever reason (for instance, the duel is meant to be a musical battle to win the heart of a Fairest maiden, but she chooses a new suitor before the duel is actually fought and refuses to participate), both participants run the risk of suffering the sanction of the duel — or, worse, becoming Oath-Locked (see sidebar).

* **Consequences:** The sanctions of the Dueling Oath apply only if a participant tries to cheat in the duel or otherwise dodge the particulars of the Oath itself. The consequences of the duel apply to the changeling who loses. If the duel is to the death, the consequence is obvious; but if not, the losing changeling might have to offer allocution, or even turn himself in to the mortal authorities and submit to their judgment (if he has committed a crime in the eyes of the law). He might need to serve under the winning changeling for a predetermined amount of time, or he might be forbidden from ever speaking of the matter at hand. In any case, the consequences of the duel often involve their own oath, which might be sworn when the Dueling Oath is sworn or when the duel is actually decided. In either case, both participants need to be certain the outcome is one they can abide by.

The Dueling Oath is usually a vow (that is, invested into the changeling’s Wyrd), but duels to the death are sometimes made into oaths on the changeling’s true name or name of a higher power (including Love).

### Example: Physical Duel — The Back-Alley Brawl

The streets have their own code, especially where changelings are concerned. This form of the Dueling Oath precedes a fight in an alley, parking lot or other informal location.

*— Whatever we find to use as weapons, that’s what we’ll use. Whoever is left standing, that’s who wins. If someone breaks up the fight, it’s on them, not us. Bring in extra help, pull out your own weapon, open a gateway, try to cheat any other way, and you’ll never raise a fist again. Let’s go out and settle this.*

**Type:** Vow

**Tasks:** Forbiddance, Lesser (using outside help or weapons) –1

**Boons:** Sanctity of the Duel, Blessing (+1, with a reflexive Wits + Weaponry roll, participants can always find a weapon on the battlefield that inflicts 1B)

**Sanction:** Vulnerability, Violence (–2, breaking the terms of the duel)

**Duration:** Day (+1)

**Invocation:** 1 Willpower (both participants)

### Example: Mental Duel — The Riddle Contest

The Riddle Contest, as mentioned above, is one of the staples of changeling society. Many True Fae are unable to resist a challenge to such a contest (not that it’s generally a good idea to challenge them), and even brutish ogres and distant elementals show a strange interest in, if not always affinity for, word games and puzzles. It’s just something in the fae nature. Using the Riddle Contest as a duel, though, requires some ground rules, and violating them always seems to carry consequences far beyond what the participants would expect.

*— We two shall sit together, and be silent, but for the riddles and their answers. No questions shall be asked and no objection be raised. Each riddle asked must have an answer, and if one is unable to answer a riddle, the one who asked must provide the answer. To speak out of turn or to ask a riddle without an answer is to accept madness and loss of thought. The one who is unable to answer is defeated, and must accept that defeat, and never again speak of the matter.*

**Type:** Vow

**Tasks:** Endeavor, Medial (–2, the contest itself)

**Boons:** Sanctity of the Duel

**Sanction:** Flaw, Medial (–2, derangement if a participant speaks out of turn or asks a riddle without an answer); Forbiddance, Medial (–2, the loser may not speak of the matter of the duel again)

**Duration:** Day (+1)

### Example: Social Duel — The Painting of Death

This grim duel is reserved for matters of truly dire import, as it is a duel to the death. Both participants have one week in which to paint the other’s death. Some versions of the duel place restrictions on the size of the “canvas,” but murals using entire edifices aren’t unknown. The ruler of the local freehold is usually recruited as a Judge, but anyone with at least Mantle •••• will do.

*— It has come to this: one shall die and one shall live. Starting now, I shall each take seven days and seven nights and set down my vision of your death. In seven days and seven nights, I shall show my vision to [the Judge]. Whose vision is chosen as the truest representation of death shall live, and the loser shall suffer the death that the winner has envisioned for him. Death shall watch over us artists, and protect us from the unforeseen, but claim either of us who attempts to take another’s vision as his own.*

**Type:** Vow

**Tasks:** Endeavor, Medial (–2, the painting)

**Boons:** Sanctity of the Duel; Blessing, Special (participants cannot die while the duel is underway; the last Health box simply does not fill, and miraculous coincidences protect them from incidental damage — a book in a pocket stops a bullet, etc.)

**Sanction:** Death (–3, to the loser or a participant who cheats)

**Duration:** Week (–1)

### Example: Mystical Duel — The Duel in Dreams

Oneiromachy, discussed in detail on p. 198 of Changeling: The Lost, has served as a staple mystical duel for centuries. The Duel in Dreams oath, though, allows the battle to take place in the mind of a specific person. For duels of love, this is usually the mind of the “beloved” in question. For duels of honor or vengeance, the dreamer might be someone who was wronged, or someone who, by rights, should witness the result of the duel (that is, someone with a personal stake in the matter).

*— Let my mind be the field of battle. Let my dreams set the stage for this duel. The duel begins when I begin to dream, and ends when I awaken. The one who strikes a blow last before I wake shall be the winner, if no winner emerges before then. I accept the shock of oneiromachy, but I accept no further attacks upon my person, and any such attack is forfeiture of both the duel and of the duelist’s own dreams.*

**Type:** Vow

**Tasks:** Dreaming (–2)

**Boons:** Sanctity of the Duel

**Sanction:** Flaw (–2, subject is unable to regain Willpower from sleeping if he cheats at the duel or directly attacks the dreamer)

**Duration:** Day (+1)

### Cheating

Every Dueling Oath has a sanction built into it to punish unscrupulous fae who would ignore the rules of the contest. Some duels, though, aren’t sealed with the Dueling Oaths, and sometimes a changeling decides that, for whatever reason, winning the duel by any means necessary is worth violating the oath. If the duel doesn’t have the Wyrd backing it, cheating is just a matter of concealing one’s actions from any Judges or witnesses (this, of course, is one reason why changeling duelists do rely on the Dueling Oath). If the participants have sworn the Oath, though, the question presents itself: why would a changeling cheat?
Cheating at a duel sealed by an Oath, after all, means that the changeling can’t possibly “win” the duel. The Wyrd recognizes who won through the Oath, and a changeling that claims to have won is just perpetuating a lie. He also suffers the sanction from the Oath, and runs the risk of losing Clarity. Why take all these risks?

One possibility is that the changeling doesn’t really care about the duel. He might be setting up the duel to cause a distraction for the other Lost in the area, perhaps as part of a coup for an ally to seize power. Loyalists and privateers, too, have been known to arrive at a freehold, challenge a prominent and powerful changeling to a duel, let the defender name the terms of the duel and design the Oath, and then cheat. This violation of the Wyrd sends up a flare, as it were, allowing the Gentry to find and (potentially) come to the aid of their servant.

Another possibility is that the cheating changeling really is invested in the matter of the duel, but doesn’t care about the formality or the ancient customs surrounding the Dueling Oath. All he wants is the matter to be resolved, and if that means taking matters into his own hands and coping with the consequences, so be it. A changeling who agrees to a swordfight, but keeps a small pistol hidden on his person should the fight go against him, might just want the other duelist dead. The duel allows him to get close enough to finish the job, and maybe he can do it without cheating, but if he can’t, he’s willing to ignore the Oath he swore and pull the trigger. Tragically, of course, many Dueling Oaths are worded to preclude the possibility of cheating — the swordfight’s Dueling Oath might state that any modern weapon produced during the duel simply won’t work. The defender loses the duel, and probably his life into the bargain, because he couldn’t play by his own rules.

A related question is this: what if the changeling waits until a (non-lethal) duel is resolved, and then attacks in a more mundane fashion? Consider, in the example above, if the swordfight is to be decided by first blood rather than a death stroke. The changeling with the gun waits until the duel is over, he has lost (or even won!), the matter is decided, and the obligation to the Wyrd has been discharged… and then he pulls the gun and shoots his opponent in the back. Does the Wyrd respond?

It depends upon the wording of the Oath, of course. Many Dueling Oaths include a clause stating that the matter is never to be mentioned again, for exactly this reason. As such, refusing to let the matter go is considered cheating, but it doesn’t always have a specific sanction. Some changelings are simply unable to pursue the matter further — the changeling reaches for the gun, but cannot draw it, at least not in pursuit of the matter that instigated that duel (though if he were to find himself in a fight on an unrelated matter with his enemy, he could still shoot him). Changelings that are strong enough of will to ignore the Wyrd’s directive to let the matter lie often go mad, becoming unable to do anything except purse the object of their obsession. Even if the mortal enemy that prompted a duel of vengeance, or the paramour that prompted a duel of love dies, the duel goes on. It is literally the only thing the changeling can think about. Such changelings become little more than ghosts, reflections of their previous selves. Many haunt the Hedge, because the Hedge responds to their thoughts and leads them to other changelings that might fall neatly into their delusions.

A third possible reason to cheat is sheer ignorance. Changelings who have only arrived recently from Arcadia, or who don’t remember much or anything of their durance, might regard the notion of being magically bound to their word as silly. After all, human beings are used to being able to lie with impunity — yes, there are consequences under certain circumstances, but people can say whatever they want, guarantee or promise whatever they feel would be expedient, and change their minds later as it suits them.

Changelings do not have that luxury. A changeling that swears an oath risks losing Clarity in addition to whatever sanctions might be imposed if he violates it. A changeling knows when he has sworn an oath (it’s almost impossible to do by accident, after all), but it’s one thing to know and another thing to acknowledge. A changeling in denial about his true nature, believing this all to be a dream or evidence of insanity, might agree to a duel, swear an Oath, and then cheat, reasoning that this is all absurd anyway. This changeling is in for a rude awakening, though — the Wyrd doesn’t care what a changeling believes or expects. What was sworn, was sworn, and there is no escaping the sanctions of the duel.

### Formalities — Cheating the Wyrd

It’s possible to enter into a duel with nothing truly at stake. This type of duel is called a formality. It might apply if the outcome of the duel isn’t in doubt, but both parties would feel some satisfaction by “fighting” it, or are obliged to do so. For instance, consider a Fairest Draconic who is an expert hand-to-hand combatant. One night at a Court function, a Beast Runnerswift spills a drink on him and inadvertently insults his wife (said Beast is more than a little inebriated). The Draconic challenges the Beast to a duel to repair this loss of honor; the Beast, also drunk, agrees. Come morning, both parties realize what idiots they are — but they have already sworn the Dueling Oath, and not fighting it would involve sanctions for both of them. The duel therefore becomes a formality, since the outcome of the fight is a foregone conclusion.

A duel might also be a formality if custom demands that the duel happens, but both parties involved want the same result. For instance, consider a Darkling who has a mortal sister upon whom he dotes. He swears an oath to protect his sister, and to only allow a worthy mate to approach her — someone clever enough to best the Darkling in a riddle contest. Over time, a member of the Darkling’s motley — an Ogre — proves himself to be loyal, strong and capable, and he and the Darkling’s sister fall in love. The Darkling has to go through with the riddle contest, but he wants the Ogre to win. The duel, therefore, is a formality. It has to happen so that the Wyrd will be satisfied, but the riddle probably won’t be especially hard.

The problem with this is that the Wyrd can often tell the difference between a duel fought earnestly and a formality, and it might view a formality as a violation of the Dueling Oath. If this happens, the changelings involved often experience a sick feeling when the duel is completed, and then both (or all, if the duel involves a Judge or a witness) feel the effects of the sanctions. A formality doesn’t cause a changeling to risk Clarity loss.

**Systems:** If a player’s character is involved in a formality duel that is sealed by a Dueling Oath, make a Clarity roll for each changeling character involved. This roll is contested by a roll combining the Wyrd ratings of all of the changelings involved. If the Wyrd roll garners more successes than any of the Clarity rolls, the Wyrd takes offense at the formality and the characters involved experience the sanctions.

**Example:** In the case of the Darkling/Ogre riddle contest above, each of the players rolls his character’s Clarity (six for the Darkling, seven for the Ogre), while the Storyteller rolls a pool consisting of their combined Wyrd ratings (four for each character, for a total of eight). The Darkling’s player rolls four successes, the Ogre’s player rolls one, and the Storyteller rolls three. Since the Storyteller’s roll exceeded one of the players’ roll, the Wyrd notes that this riddle contest is being fudged. The “duel” concludes, but the sanctions apply. What this does to the love affair between the Ogre and the Darkling’s sister is anyone’s guess — perhaps now the Darkling feels the Ogre really does need to best him somehow to be worthy.

### Storytelling Duels

The preceding section is meant to give the Storyteller an idea about how duels work in changeling society, why changelings engage in them and what they mean in system terms. This section covers the practical reality of using duels in a chronicle.

#### The Player’s Character as the Challenger

If a character makes a challenge, it’s up to the Storyteller to wring maximum drama and enjoyment out of the situation. That does not mean arranging the circumstances so that the character loses the duel or is playing to his weakest set of abilities. If the brutish Ogre challenges a character to a duel, it’s probably inappropriate to have the defender stipulate a test of social niceties.

Yes, from a purely strategic standpoint, this makes sense. But it’s not something that happens in literature, and that’s because it doesn’t make much dramatic sense. Changelings fight duels because the instinct to do so has been ground into them during their time in Arcadia, and part of that instinct is a drive to make sure that the duel is, if not fair, then at least appropriate. When accepting or crafting a duel on the part of a Storyteller character, then, consider how to structure the duel so as to make it not completely one-sided (if the Ogre challenges a frail but devious Flowering, a battle with war-hammers probably isn’t the best way to go), but to allow both sides to play to their strengths.

Quite apart from any consideration about Arcadia and the mindset of the fae, from a practical standpoint, if changelings couldn’t expect a fair fight in a duel, the tradition of dueling would vanish from changeling society entirely. The Ogre, in challenging the Flowering, knows that he can’t expect his opponent to choose trial by combat — or at least, if the Fairest does opt for a fight, the specifics will favor his style of fighting as much (or more) as that of the Ogre. As Storyteller, you need to keep all of this in mind when the player takes the initiative to begin a duel.

Consider, too, the implications of that last sentence — if a player wants his character to have a duel, he is taking the initiative to create a story within your chronicle. That means that the events of the chronicle thus far have inspired him, which means you are doing your job as Storyteller. Try to get a sense of how the player (and the rest of the troupe) wants the duel to go; make it challenging, but make it fun.

Of course, it might be that the challenge is completely inappropriate. A changeling fresh from the Hedge who challenges Grandfather Thunder can expect to be soundly thrashed for his trouble — but that’s not a bad thing, in terms of the chronicle! Loss of a duel doesn’t have to mean death, as this section has hopefully shown, and since the defender usually has some say in the nature of the challenge, the Storyteller has the ability to let the player’s character learn his lesson, get his comeuppance, and come away from the situation a little wiser. That’s good drama, and it’s worth a Learning Curve experience point, too (see p. 217 of the World of Darkness Rulebook).

#### The Player’s Character as Defender

Player-controlled characters tend to be the exceptions, the instigators, the squeaky wheels, if you will. As such, it’s inevitable that they’re going to annoy, offend or anger someone during the chronicle. That someone might well respond with a duel challenge.

The advice above applies to players’ characters as defenders. If custom dictates that the defender chooses the duel, it’s incumbent upon the player to choose something that allows for an interesting story (though nothing says the player can’t give his character the advantage — there’s a difference between keeping things dramatic and abandoning strategy altogether). Look at the aggressor and the defender, and determine where the common ground is — what kind of duel would decide the matter and give both participants a good chance of victory? What kind of duel is thematically appropriate to the matter at hand?

Consider, too, that the aggressor is the one with the ax to grind, and is therefore more likely to cheat. Is that something the Storyteller-controlled challenger is likely to try? If so, why? If the defender realizes what is happening, does he have any recourse, or does he just have to tough it out and bring up the matter later?

If the player’s character wins, is that the end of it? Duels are meant to decide matters, and so from a story perspective, it makes sense for the story to end with the duel. But some matters just don’t die, and it’s up to the Storyteller to determine whether revisiting the events of the duel in a later story would fuel good roleplaying, or whether it would feel redundant.

#### Duels Between Players’ Characters

As mentioned earlier in this section, it’s possible to use the Dueling Oath to get around other oaths, such as a motley pledge, that would normally forbid two changelings from harming one another. That means two player-controlled characters might wind up fighting a duel, and that’s perfectly all right, provided the drama it creates is the good, within-story drama and not the uncomfortable, intra-troupe drama. This kind of duel might require greater arbitration from the Storyteller to make sure the Dueling Oath is sound and doesn’t favor one party too much or create a gaping loophole.

Duels between characters might be best left up to the dice. Yes, good strategies (discussed below) can skew the duel in favor of one side or another, but if winning or losing comes down to who rolls better on a roughly equal dice pool, it’s hard to argue favoritism. Then again, some players don’t want to win by 10-sided fiat, and are perfectly willing to accept a Judge’s ruling, as this gives them a chance to shine creatively. As with everything else about being a Storyteller, adjudicating this situation means knowing your players and knowing what they think would make for a good story. The best way to find out, of course, is to ask.

#### Preparing for the Duel

Both sides, whether controlled by player or Storyteller, need to come up with an approach to the duel. Once the particulars of weapons, type and Dueling Oath have been decided, the duelists need to figure out what they are actually going to do when the big day arrives. If time permits, the players might spend experience points on Merits, Skills, Contracts and Specialties that grant them bonuses in situations relevant to the duel (as Storyteller, know that it is extremely poor form to allow a player to purchase traits that he thinks are relevant to the duel and then base the duel on a different set of dice pools entirely).

Make sure the duelist’s player knows what the physical space for the duel is going to look like. If you can, find pictures online of a similar space so that the player knows what he has to work with. Figure out what the weapons, if any, can do in game terms, and consider whether any special rules might be appropriate. Give the player(s) enough information that he can determine what the best course of action will be for the duel.

If the duel is a mental or social contest, preparing for the duel might require composing poetry, creating artwork, looking up and memorizing riddles, and the like. In situations like this, remember that the character probably has very different capabilities than the player. The character might have the Eidetic Memory Merit, but few of us can actually remember everything we’ve heard or read verbatim. As such, it’s probably allowable for such a character’s player to have a cheat sheet of relevant facts before the duel begins, even though the character isn’t allowed any such crutch. Likewise, a character might be a master poet (high Expression) while the player doesn’t know iambic pentameter from a dirty limerick. That’s the time to let the dice do the talking. After all, you wouldn’t make the player of a master swordsman stand up and demonstrate a riposte to make sure the character could do it, would you?

#### After the Duel

“Honor is satisfied” — but suppose it isn’t? Once the duel is over, the characters are assumed to have worked the matter out of their systems. In reality, it’s never that simple, but this isn’t reality. Changelings often do feel satisfied with the results of a fair duel, whether they win or lose, and that is because they have agreed that this contest will decide the matter. As with so many things related to the fae, the agreement makes it so.

In story terms, too, once a matter is decided by a duel, not a lot of dramatic potential remains in harping on it. That said, the duel can certainly raise other plot points. A duel to the death ends with the character’s enemy slain in honorable combat — but do the mortal police see it that way? What about the enemy’s Keeper, still searching for him after many years? A social duel might garner a reputation for the winner (or, if the duel was unjustly decided, the loser). A mental duel might open up new avenues of debate among the changelings of the area, and today’s philosophical debate can spawn tomorrow’s revolution and coup. A mystical duel might open up new trods in the Hedge, spawn the growth of new goblin fruits, or, of course, attract the Gentry.

A duel story should probably resolve the matter, but the matter of the duel can be a jumping-off points for many other stories. The Storyteller and the players should look at the duel in the context of the ongoing chronicle, and determine, from there, what the duel really means.

## War Magic

When the Lost go to war, they don’t take any chances. The stakes, their freedom and lives, are too precious to be squandered. Over the millennia, the changelings have adapted several enchantments and mystical items for use on the field of battle.

### Contracts of the Board

The Lost possess an intimate understanding of the magic of metaphor, how one thing can be so like another thing that altering one magically alters the other as well. Long ago, some clever changeling recognized the connection between games and war, and forged these Contracts with a power referred to as “the Great Board,” the embodiment of strategy play. Each of the great Courts claims to have originated these clauses; while Summer Courtiers swear the shared history of their Court and these powers should be self-evident, the Lost of the Ashen Mirror often claim to have crafted it to beat the Iron Spear at its own game. Nobody mentions the fact that the Gentry so often have affection for powers just like these.

Contracts of the Board are considered affinity Contracts for all changelings.

#### The Honest Eye (•)

Winning against a skilled opponent can be difficult; overcoming a cheater can prove impossible. This clause helps a changeling level the playing field by unmasking cheating competitors. It can be used to identify a cheater in any formalized competition with a time limit and specified rules, including board games, card games, sports and even formal debates. Unfair advantages (such as those granted by kith blessings) do not count as cheating unless they break the rules of the competition.

Note that no use of the Contracts of the Board counts as cheating for the purposes of this power.

**Cost:** 1 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Wits + Wyrd vs. subject’s Composure + Wyrd

**Action:** Reflexive and Contested

**Catch:** The changeling has caught the subject cheating (at any game) in the past without the use of this Contract.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The changeling believes her opponent is playing honestly, whether or not she is.

**Failure:** The changeling can’t tell whether or not her opponent is cheating.

**Success:** If the changeling rolls more successes than the subject, she knows whether or not he is cheating.

**Exceptional Success:** Not only does the changeling know whether or not the subject is cheating, she also knows how.

 +1
 –1
 –3

#### Knowing the Competition (••)

Sitting across the board from someone, an infamous chess master among the Lost used to claim, is the only way to truly know them. Chances are, he was speaking of this clause. Use of this power allows a changeling to distill through Glamour her experiences playing a game with another individual into a brief flash of insight into the individual’s methods, granting her a distinct edge. Note that the game the characters shared must be played to completion.

**Cost:** 1 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Intelligence + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The changeling uses this clause during a rematch of the initial competition.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The changeling grossly misjudges her opponent. Her next roll against the individual is automatically a chance roll.

**Failure:** The power fails to have any effect.

**Success:** The changeling experiences a brief and sudden moment of insight into how the subject’s mind works.

She gains a +4 bonus to her next dice pool rolled against the subject, no matter what the pool is. (So yes, this power allows a character to throw a more accurate punch against a person after having played a game of gin with him.) The character must play another game with the subject before using this Contract on him again.

**Exceptional Success:** As per success, save the character may use the Contract again without having to play another game with the subject.

 +2
 –2

#### The Living Game (•••)

At times of war, the Lost are sometimes confused to find their leaders playing games by themselves. If they wait long enough, they may well be shocked to see the game play back.

**Cost:** 3 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Wyrd + Occult

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The character uses a game appropriate to the situation at hand. For example, using chess in a competition between two groups of roughly similar size and strength (such as a football game), blackjack in a situation where several groups are combating a single enemy or poker in a situation where multiple groups have taken to fighting every changeling for himself.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The character learns inaccurate information about the battle or game.

**Failure:** The power fails to take effect.

**Success:** The movements of the character’s phantasmal opponent’s pieces or the composition of its cards represents the developments in a different conflict (of the character’s choosing). Through this clause he gains a detailed account of the combat or competition that allows him to react to developments on the field without the need for reports. (This is especially useful when combined with the Game Master’s Table, below.)

The information granted by a game is limited to tactical information. While the changeling knows that the loss of a chess piece means that an individual or unit is no longer relevant to the battle, he does not know whether or not that person was captured, injured, or killed.

**Exceptional Success:** The character’s phantasmal partner performs actions before they occur on the battlefield, granting the character a +3 bonus on all rolls for determining tactics to use in the real conflict that the game represents.

 +3
 +1
 –2
 –5

#### The Game Master’s Table (••••)

This clause allows the changeling to use her game board to give information as well as receive it. She must provide individuals or unit leaders with small tokens appropriate to the game she intends to play (such as playing cards or chess pieces) before the conflict begins. Then she may deliver orders to her troops by moving her pieces across the board (or whatever actions are appropriate to the chosen game). The troops are not compelled by this power, but they do recognize the impulses towards given actions as commands from their leader.

**Cost:** 4 Glamour or 4 Glamour and 1 Willpower

**Dice Pool:** Manipulation + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The character takes time beforehand to prepare each game piece or card to be given out and used on the board, personalizing it to the character it will represent. This effort takes an hour of work for a standard chess set or deck of cards, requires access to the followers, and may necessitate one or more successful Crafts rolls depending on circumstances at the Storyteller’s discretion.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The power takes effect, but the commands given come out garbled. This levies a –3 penalty on all attempts to command from behind the scenes for the remainder of the scene.

**Failure:** The Contract has no effect.

**Success:** The game becomes magically bound to the character’s followers. The character transmits commands to his followers on the field through the use of a game board or playing cards. This transmission is instantaneous and recognized by the receiver for what it is. The commands can only provide information of a tactical nature — a command to take a ridge or destroy an enemy unit works, for example, but not a command to put on a disguise or sing a song. When used in conjunction with the Living Game clause, this power allows a character to lead an army and respond to enemy movements without being anywhere near the combat.

Characters watching a changeling use this power cannot understand the connections between what she is doing and what is occurring on the battlefield unless they use the Living Game to do so. It has been said that some particularly decadent leaders duel or determine Court leadership by preparing two groups of humans (or, if rumor is to be believed, changelings) and then sitting at the same table, their dark game reflected in the deaths of dozens. Certainly the Gentry have been known to engage in such grim play.

This power has a range of (Wyrd) miles. The Contract’s effect lasts for one scene, but the character may spend a Willpower point to extend the duration until the next sunrise or sunset, whichever comes first. At the end of the power’s duration, the items provided to the followers to establish the connection transform into poetically appropriate detritus reflecting the Contract’s user: a Fairest’s cards might become rose petals while a Darkling’s chess pieces may decay into dry cobwebs. The power cannot be used again without providing the followers with new pieces.

**Exceptional Success:** As above, save the followers react with exceptional speed and coordination, as if an extension of their commander’s will. Characters under the user’s command gain a bonus of +2 to all actions for the remainder of the scene (regardless of the length of the effect).

 +3
 +2
 +1
 –2
 –5

#### The Cheater’s Gambit (•••••)

Sometimes an even battlefield simply isn’t even enough. This clause allows a changeling to wreak havoc on his enemies — by knocking over game pieces or using a marked deck in a game against an invisible opponent.

**Cost:** 4 Glamour and 1 Willpower

**Dice Pool:** Manipulation + Wyrd versus enemy leader’s Composure + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant and Contested

**Catch:** Changeling has played this game with an individual who died within the past week.

##### Roll Results

Dramatic Failure: The attempt at cheating rebounds on the character, causing the group she supports to suffer a –4 to all rolls during the next turn.

**Failure:** The power fails to affect the targets.

**Success:** The character cheats the subject’s followers in the game of fate, levying a far-ranging if short-lived curse against their efforts. On the following turn, all followers of the subject involved in the conflict suffer a –4 penalty to any dice roll for their own actions (resistance dice pools are not affected). This penalty fades the following turn. This sudden downswing of fortune may manifest as a moment of bad weather, a broken communication line, a sudden rout or a simple turn of horrid luck. Whatever way fate takes its toll on the enemy, the subject of the Contract (i.e. the enemy leader) automatically knows that a character just messed with fate on a large scale. In short, he knows the character cheated.

**Exceptional Success:** As success, save the subject doesn’t realize that a Contract was used.

 +3
 +1
 –2
 –3
 –5

### Contracts of Thorns and Brambles

The Lost have a tumultuous relationship with the Hedge. They fear what lurks in the darkened twists of that labyrinth, yet they hide among the Thorns and use gates into the Hedge to escape pursuit. In times of war, the Hedge becomes a series of supply lines, escape routes and battlegrounds.

The connection between the Hedge and the Contracts of Thorns and Brambles remains a mystery to most of the Lost. The Contract grants no additional ability to a changeling to manipulate the Hedge, instead granting them power over hedges and thorns of the mortal world. Yet some of the Contracts seem to function better in the Hedge than they do elsewhere. This dichotomy leads some savants among the changelings to suspect that the Contracts of Thorns and Brambles may have originated as some Faustian bargain between the Contracts’ creator and the Hedge itself. Whatever the truth of the matter, use of the Contracts of Thorns and Brambles has become widespread among the Lost, and few Contracts are so valued during times of war.

Contracts of Thorns and Brambles are considered affinity Contracts for all changelings.

#### Bite of the Wooden Fang (•)

The most basic expression of the changeling’s power to mimic the terrible maze through which they first fled their captors, Bite of the Wooden Fang demands the user tithe a fraction of his power to a blunt weapon made of wood, vine, or other plant matter. The weapon must inflict bashing damage for this Contract to take effect. An enemy struck by a weapon empowered by this Contract is slashed and bitten by dozens of thorns that rise invisibly from the weapon at the instant of contact.

**Cost:** 1 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Dexterity + Wyrd

**Action:** Reflexive

**Catch:** The changeling uses a whip made of plant materials, such as a hemp rope or even a thick vine.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The thorns bite back, causing the character to drop her weapon. Her instant action for the turn is lost.

**Failure:** The weapon does not grant any additional bonus.

**Success:** Invisible thorns appear along the length of the weapon, granting the weapon a bonus on the character’s next attack equal to the number of successes rolled. This bonus stacks with the weapon’s usual bonus.

**Exceptional Success:** As per success, and the weapon’s damage is converted to lethal.

 +3
 +1
 –2

Most whips are six-foot long (or longer) weapons of braided leather. They require more finesse to use than a baseball bat (or short sword), and thus attacks with a whip are rolled with the attacker’s Dexterity + Weaponry. Most whips inflict 1(B) damage, though a character might affix metal objects at the end of the whip to upgrade the damage to 0(L).
Whips appropriate for the use of the above Contract are made of somewhat less sturdy stuff, however, and inflict only 0(B) damage. While such a whip can be upgraded to –1(L) with the attachment of pieces of metal or similarly dangerous objects, such upgraded whips cannot be used with the Contract.
No matter the type of whip, a character can make an attack with a whip at a –3 penalty to disarm an opponent. Even a single success demands that the opponent roll Strength + Stamina — attacker’s Dexterity to retain his grip on his weapon. (Note that the opponent takes no damage from this attack.) A character may use Bite of the Wooden Fang to supplement this roll: the invisible barbs help grip the weapon in question.

#### Leechweed (••)

This clause empowers an area of hedge growth or brambles, causing it to drain Glamour from those bitten by its thorns. Though this Contract is used almost solely in the material world, it can be used in the Hedge. When used in the Hedge, this clause manipulates only growth created by way of the other clauses of this Contract; it cannot alter the Hedge walls in any way. The use of Leechweed in the Hedge can be profoundly dangerous.

**Cost:** 2 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Wyrd + Occult

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The Contract is used against someone in service to the character’s Keeper or against the Keeper itself.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The brambles cling to the changeling, draining her of one point of her own Glamour in addition to any other effects determined by the type of bramble. Rolling a dramatic failure on this clause in the Hedge causes the Hedge wall to open up and swallow the changeling. The changeling loses one point of Glamour and is considered off the path (p. 220, Changeling: The Lost). She is separated from her companions and must navigate her way out of the Hedge in the usual manner.

**Failure:** The clause fails to take power. If used in the Hedge, a failure on this clause counts as a dramatic failure.

**Success:** When used on pre-existing (natural) brambles or thorns, this power causes all thorns within Wyrd yards to drain a point of Glamour from anyone pricked by them. This enchantment remains for the scene’s duration, but can only drain a point of Glamour from any given changeling per turn and can only leech a maximum number of points of Glamour from a given changeling equal to the user’s successes on the activation roll. A character can avoid being pricked by the thorns by moving at Speed 2 or less. Glamour taken this way does not transfer to the user, instead remaining within the plant. Rumor has it that such plants occasionally grow goblin fruit, and changelings have been known to use this clause (before sacrificing their own Glamour to the plants) in an attempt to cultivate such succulent treats without the dangers of entering the Hedge. There have been, to date, no reliable tales of success in this endeavor.

When used to enchant thorns created by another clause of this Contract, the enchantment spreads to the whole of the brambles and remains until the other clause ends. The details of the leeching power remain the same, save that the Glamour taken will be used to fuel the continuation of the effect. Empowered thorns may store an amount of Glamour for use in this manner equal to the character’s Wyrd, and the thorns cannot choose not to spend the Glamour.

**Example:** Demeter, a Woodblood Elemental of the Autumn Court, summons forth a Shield of Thorns when surrounded by her enemies of the Iron Spear. Knowing that her spell will keep her pursuers occupied for only a few moments, Demeter uses Leechweed to empower her Shield of Thorns.

Now her thorns sap Glamour from her adversaries in addition to simply harming them. The thorny lashes may use the Glamour harvested from those within (because Demeter’s Wyrd is 5, the brambles can store up to five points of Glamour) to remain in effect, spending one stolen point of Glamour with each passage of a number of turns equal to Demeter’s initial successes on the activation roll for Shield of Thorns. With the knowledge that her thorns will persist after she is gone, Demeter makes her escape.

This power has no effect on creatures without a Glamour pool or changelings whose Glamour pool has been reduced to 0.

**Exceptional Success:** Additional successes are their own reward.

 +2
 +1
 –2

#### Briarpath (•••)

Often times a changeling must evade pursuit from a stronger, faster adversary. This clause helps a character do just that. Long, vicious thorns erupt from the enchanted surface, slowing pursuers and making vertical surfaces almost impossible to climb.

**Cost:** 2 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Wits + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The character litters a handful of Hedge thorns behind her.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The enchantment hounds the character rather than her adversary, painfully lacerating her hands and forearms. She suffers a –1 penalty to all rolls requiring the use of her hands for the remainder of the scene.

**Failure:** The Contract fails to take effect.

**Success:** The changeling leaves a trail behind her of thorns and brambles that impede her enemies. The trail has a width equal to the changeling’s Wyrd in yards and grows in her wake (across any surface, vertical or horizontal) for a number of turns equal to the successes she rolled. A character that moves through the area suffers the following hindrances: her Speed is reduced by one for each success garnered by the changeling, and she suffers a penalty equal to the number of successes rolled by the changeling on all Athletics rolls (such as those to run, jump, and climb) made while in the area of effect. The trail fades at the end of the scene.

**Exceptional Success:** As per success, save that characters moving through the trail find their Speed reduced to 1 and all Athletics dice pools reduced to a chance roll.

 +1
 –1
 –3

#### Shield of Thorns (••••)

The changeling learns to summon forth brambles from even the driest of earth, creating an almost impenetrable defensive barrier that lashes at any enemy who comes near. While this Contract is occasionally used in the Hedge, a changeling does so at her own risk.

**Cost:** 3 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Manipulation + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The changeling cuts open her own flesh (inflicting 1 lethal damage in the process) and pours her blood across the area to be shielded.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** In most situations, a dramatic failure on this roll results in the user being struck by her own briars, suffering an immediate attack that inflicts a dice pool equal to her Wyrd in bashing damage. If this Contract was used in the Hedge, however, the damage is lethal and the changeling loses a point of Glamour per Health Level lost.

**Failure:** The Contract fails to take effect, and the ground remains unbroken. If the Contract was used in the Hedge, however, a failure counts as a Dramatic Failure.

**Success:** The earth splits, sprouting dozens of tangled brambles about the changeling in a circle with a radius equal to her Wyrd. Any character that moves more than two yards in a single turn within the tangled area suffers an immediate attack with a dice pool equal to the changeling’s Wyrd. The attack inflicts lethal damage and ignores Defense (Armor still applies), but the brambles can only attack any given character once per turn. The briars die and rot to dust after a number of turns equal to the character’s success on the activation roll, though the character may choose to spend a point of Glamour for the briars to remain for an additional period of equal length (and may continue to do so until she runs out of Glamour or chooses to end the effect). The field of briars does not move with the character, and she may leave it behind to attempt to make an escape.

**Exceptional Success:** Additional successes are their own reward.

 +3
 +1
 –1
 –5

Characters versed in the Contracts of Thorns and Brambles often take time to learn the wood variation of the Contracts of Elements (p. 138, Changeling: The Lost), as well. The lesser clauses of that Contract make use of the clauses listed here somewhat less dangerous, while Control Elements grants the character some control over the brambles she summons forth.
Similarly, a character with Control Elements can attempt to manipulate brambles created by another changeling’s use of these powers. Doing so levies a penalty equal to the successes garnered by the changeling who initially used the power. If both characters possess Control Elements, the roll becomes a contested roll of both characters’ Manipulation + Wyrd.

#### Hedgewall (•••••)

With a bellowing howl, the changeling calls forth a series of massive fortifications or hedges and brambles. Young changeling soldiers, fear of their flight through the Hedge still fresh in their minds, have been known to rout in fear at the sudden sight of towering hedgerows in the midst of a freehold. Clever changelings use this clause to hem in and trap enemies or funnel an advancing force into the waiting arms of a Court’s defenses. Few fae magics are as blatant and impressive as this clause, and its use has been known to violate freehold oaths that put a particularly heavy emphasis on secrecy.

**Cost:** 4 Glamour or 4 Glamour + 1 Willpower

**Dice Pool:** Presence + Wyrd

**Action:** Extended (5 successes necessary; each roll represents 1 turn)

**Catch:** The character transplants a small hedge bush from a rural locale to the location where the Contract is to be used immediately prior (within the scene) to using the Contract. While the bush obviously need not be taken from the ground in the same scene, it must still be alive when planted.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The hedge fortification grows wildly in a manner that benefits the character’s enemies, whether by separating the character’s motley or cutting off his retreat. If a dramatic failure of this clause occurs in the Hedge, the walls of that maze suddenly open a trod that leads directly to Arcadia and alerts the Gentry to the character’s presence.

**Failure:** The fortifications fail to appear. If used in the Hedge, failure on this clause counts as a dramatic failure.

**Success:** Hedge walls erupt around the character, forming a maze. The character has a huge amount of control over the growth of the hedges, allowing for a great deal of versatility, but the following rules apply:

The walls summoned forth are two feet thick and too tightly grown to allow someone to pass through without using a machete or other tool. The walls provide substantial concealment (–3) against firearms attacks (and only firearms — other ranged attacks can’t penetrate) and prevent close combat attacks. This Contract cannot be used inside the bounds of a human building, even one open to the sky (like a stadium). Whatever design the changeling gives the walls, they are always vertical, meaning that someone within the maze can always climb out (though a clever changeling might use this clause under an overpass, effectively cutting off the escape route above). The walls can be climbed, but the plants shift to prevent individuals from walking across the top of them. A character attempting to do so rolls Dexterity + Athletics each turn; she may move at a Speed equal to her successes on the roll, which counts as an instant action. Failure on the roll means the character makes no progress, while dramatic failure sends her plummeting back to the maze floor.

The changeling determines the height of the walls, which can range from the changeling’s Wyrd to 10 + the changeling’s Wyrd in feet. If the height of the walls is obstructed, they stop at that height (rather than spreading outward or punching their way through barriers). The length of the barrier can be as small as Wyrd yards and as long as Wyrd times 10 yards. Furthermore, the barrier must be a single unbroken wall and must touch the changeling at least one single point when created (in other words, it cannot be created at range, but the changeling can put the whole of the barrier between himself and his enemies). Finally, the walls of the hedge maze must allow room for those within to move; no wall surface can be closer than three yards to another (and circular structures must have a diameter of three yards). Otherwise, the changeling’s imagination determines the layout of the fortifications. He might create a confusing maze, a simple barrier, a wall to funnel enemies down one side of an alleyway, or even a circular fortification to trap enemies within.

The barriers last for a number of turns equal to the successes rolled on the activation roll. By spending one Willpower point, the changeling can extend this duration to the end of the scene. At the end of the duration (whether in turns or at the end of the scene), the changeling may expend two points of Glamour to maintain the hedge maze for another duration of the same length. The power ends, however, at dawn or sunset, whichever comes first.

These hedges can be empowered by the other clauses of this Contract. Using Briarpath on the maze hedge applies that clause across all of the walls (as well as the top of the walls), but not across the ground within the maze. Leechweed results in any contact with the hedge walls seeping Glamour from the changeling who did so. The Shield of Thorns clause results in the appearance of small tendrils along the walls that strike at anyone who touches the wall. The changeling can sense when such an attack is being made and can enhance it with the Bite of the Wooden Fang clause as a reflexive action. Such enchantments last until the end of the scene or the end of this power, whichever comes first.

**Exceptional Success:** As per success, save the walls automatically benefit from the effects of Briarpath and Leechweed.

 +5
 +3
 +1
 –1
 –5

### Goblin Contracts

While Contracts like Cheater’s Gambit and Leechweed are hardly on the up-and-up, when changelings do battle they are more likely than usual to use some of the dirty little secrets they’ve picked up on the cheap at the Goblin Market. Trading Luck for Fate, Shooter’s Bargain, Burden of Life and Delayed Harm (p. 164 to 167, Changeling: The Lost) are common sights on the battlefield of the fae, as are the following Contracts.

#### Mirror, Mirror (•••)

Sometimes a changeling must know what an enemy is up to. This Contract allows the changeling to watch an adversary’s actions through a mirror for a short period. Unfortunately for the character, the next time the adversary peers into a mirror, she will be able to see the changeling.

**Cost:** 1 Glamour + 1 Willpower

**Dice Pool:** Resolve + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The changeling must break the mirror (by cracking its surface) before using this power. Given the tumultuous relationship between the Lost and fate, surprisingly few changelings are willing to risk such a catch.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The power seems to fail, but the next time the subject attempts to look through a mirror, he sees the changeling and may observe her for a number of minutes equal to the changeling’s Wyrd.

**Failure:** Nothing happens.

**Success:** The mirror’s surface seems to fog over for a moment; when the fog clears, the changeling can see (and only see) the subject of the Contract. The perspective is always from a corner of the room (usually an upper corner, where two walls adjoin a ceiling) the subject is in. If the subject is outside, the image usually hangs above him and to one side by two to three feet. Either way, the image moves with the subject but is otherwise set on the subject. The changeling has no control over it. The image remains in the mirror, even if the mirror is set aside or left alone by the changeling, for a number of hours equal to the changeling’s successes on the activation roll. While the subject has no way of knowing she is being watched, any mirror she looks into reflects not her own visage but that of the changeling — including whatever she’s doing at that time.

Note that for the purpose of this Contract, a mirror must have been expressly constructed for the purpose of being a mirror. No other reflective surfaces, including items that were designed to be reflective for aesthetic purposes (such as certain pieces of art, car windows or sunglasses), count.

**Exceptional Success:** As per success, save that the length of the effect becomes the number of successes the changeling rolled multiplied by her Wyrd in hours and can be ended at will.

 +3
 –1 to –5
 –10

#### Royal Oil (••••)

This vicious Contract has been outlawed in many domains. It produces a viscous supernatural liquid that clings to a character, making her far more susceptible to the ravages of flame. The effect gets its name from its drawback, a phantom crown of fire that rings the character’s head, marking him as a user of this Contract.

A character must touch a target before using this effect.

**Cost:** 2 Glamour

**Dice Pool:** Dexterity + Wyrd

**Action:** Instant

**Catch:** The character drinks a tablespoon of castor oil prior to using the power. The oil causes mild but distracting cramping, levying a –1 die penalty on all rolls for the scene.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The oil oozes forth from the character’s skin… and remains there. She becomes susceptible to attacks from fire, and any such attacks inflict aggravated damage. The crown of fire does not appear, however, but that might be cold comfort for the changeling oiled-up by her own hand.

**Failure:** Nothing happens.

**Success:** Oil seeps forth from the character’s skin and slides onto the subject’s skin and clothes, spreading across her. She takes on a slight yellowish sheen, and others trained to recognize the effect know that she has been oiled (barring supernatural obfuscation on the part of the subject). The oiled character becomes particularly weak against fire, suffering aggravated damage from all such attacks. If the character already suffered aggravated damage from fire (if she is a vampire, for example), then such attacks against her do an additional three dice of damage.

Meanwhile, a crown of flickering flames appears above the changeling’s head, marking him as the user of the Contract to all who know what it means. This crown reduces all Stealth rolls to a chance die and provides a +1 bonus to characters making ranged attacks on the changeling.

This power’s effects, both on the changeling and her subject, last for a number of turns equal to the number of successes rolled to activate the Contract.

**Exceptional Success:** Additional successes are their own reward.

 –2
 –3
 –5

#### Goblin Ward (•••••)

Particularly paranoid Lost swear by this Contract, claiming that the usual security measures changelings adopt in their Hollows (namely the Hollow Wards Merit) simply don’t go far enough to protect from privateers, loyalists, hobgoblins and the other dangers of the Hedge. Detractors question just how effective against hobgoblins such a ward can be if it is readily available at the Goblin Market.

The Lost paints an occult symbol in the location she hopes to ward against intruders. This is often a Hollow, but the power does not necessitate that the ward be placed within the Hedge. The Lost may specify any individuals she wishes to remain unaffected by the ward’s magic. Thereafter, any other person who enters the area is temporarily mentally enervated, allowing the character to defend herself or make her escape.

**Note:** Changelings of Clarity 7 or higher who suffer the effects of this Contract must roll to avoid a loss of Clarity (four dice). This does not apply to any other form of the Morality Advantage.

**Cost:** 2 Glamour + 1 Willpower

**Dice Pool:** Wyrd + Occult

**Action:** Extended (5 successes necessary; each roll represents 10 minutes of ritual)

**Catch:** The character paints the ward in the blood of a murdered enemy.

##### Roll Results

**Dramatic Failure:** The fae madness the character attempted to bind into the symbol escapes, overwhelming his senses. He suffers vivid hallucinations, possibly for hours. The character suffers a –5 penalty to all mental and social rolls until the following sunrise or sunset, whichever comes first.

**Failure:** The Contract has no effect.

**Success:** The character binds a fraction of the Wyrd into the symbol. The number of successes she rolls determines the potency of the ward. If the ward is never triggered, it remains in place for a month. If, however, characters not attuned to the ward approach within the changeling’s Wyrd in yards, the ward goes off, showering everyone within the room or within 10 square yards (whichever is smaller) with mad fae magic. While the ward differentiates between those its creator attuned it to and those she didn’t, the magic that pours forth when the ward has been set off is not so discriminatory, and will even affect the creator if she is within range. Each character in the area of effect must roll Composure + Wyrd at a penalty equal to the number of successes rolled by the ward’s creator. Any character that fails this roll becomes overwhelmed by the madness of Faerie, his senses twisted and distorted and his mind numbed. He perceives enemies where there are none and mistakes strangers for friends, all tinged with the palpable magic of the fae.

A character affected by the ward suffers a –3 to all dice pools and a –2 to his Defense and Initiative. He suffers hallucinations, but may roll Resolve + Composure –3 to gain clarity for a number of turns equal to his Resolve. (This clarity does not reduce penalties, but does allow the character to differentiate a raven from a writing desk.) The effects last for a number of minutes equal to the ward creator’s Wyrd. Once the ward’s magic has been discharged, the ward becomes inert, its magic spent.

The creator, for his part, suffers from the amount of fae magic he must invest into the ward. He does not benefit from his seeming blessing (seeming curse and kith blessing are not affected) for as long as the ward exists, though he regains those benefits the moment the ward fades or is set off (allowing him to know that his fae alarm has been tripped, regardless of his current location). A changeling may have only one Goblin Ward active at any given time, and may end the Contract’s effect at any time by physically destroying the symbol.

**Exceptional Success:** If the creator rolls 10 or more successes, the ward lasts for an additional month without further expenditure on the part of the changeling.

 –2

#### Tokens

Tokens form an indispensable portion of the magical firepower of the soldiers among the Lost. Tokens have the distinct advantage of offering a (more or less) predictable effect without siphoning too much Glamour from the user. Unfortunately, even the greatest token is twisted by ill-fated energy, making its use on the battlefield a dubious advantage.

##### Deadman’s Mask (••)

This morbid item is a changeling’s death mask left in the Hedge to absorb the magic of Faerie. The white plaster mask adopts a green tinge, sometimes taking on exquisite scrollwork or other imagery. When worn, the Deadman’s Mask allows a changeling to abandon her current seeming and kith for that of the changeling whose face the mask bears. The character loses her usual seeming and kith blessings and curses for those of the deceased (meaning that any given Deadman’s Mask “contains” only 1 seeming and kith combination). Furthermore, her appearance changes to reflect the shift in her fae nature, but only so much as to appear as she might have had she become a changeling of that seeming and kith in Faerie, limiting the token’s usefulness as a disguise. (At best, the mask provides one or two bonus dice on a disguise roll.)

The mask remains on the character until such time as she chooses to remove it as an instant action. Afterwards the mask cannot be used again for an amount of time equal to five times the period the mask was worn. If she wore the mask for only an hour, the changeling must wait for five hours before she can wear it again. If she adopted the second identity for a year, the mask remains inert for five years.

Most changelings find the use of such a mask distasteful, and someone known to make a habit of it should expect no warm receptions from her fellow Lost.

**Action:** Instant

**Mien:** When used, the mask melds to the character’s face, quickly adapting to it and taking her features. A rush of magic runs down the body like a shudder, obliterating the old seeming and replacing it with the new. Finally, the mask’s eyes open.

**Drawback:** Some part of the changeling’s fae being rejects being so casually tossed aside. After removing the mask, the changeling’s seeming curse immediately returns, but neither her seeming nor kith blessings return for one week. During this time, the character seems somehow less fae than usual, sometimes resulting in suspicion from other changelings.

**Catch:** The changeling allows the Deadman’s Mask to determine how long it wishes to remain on his face. The Storyteller rolls one die. If the result is a 1, the duration is in minutes. If it ranges from 2 to 7, it is in hours, and if it is 8 or above, it is measured in days. The Storyteller then rolls two more dice. The mask remains on the character for an amount of time equal to the sum of the two dice in a unit of time determined by the first die. The changeling does not know how long the effect will last and cannot remove the mask under any circumstances.

##### Dawnspear (•••••)

Legend has it the founder of the Dawn Court once wielded this mystical weapon. With it he promoted change across the lands he ruled, vanquishing those who clung too tightly to the hoary past. When inactive, this weapon seems nothing more than a long spearhead at the end of an equally old piece of wood (+1(L), grants a +1 bonus to Defense).

When activated, the Dawnspear grants a single character impressive prowess in combat. Her Defense and Speed are both doubled, and she gains a +4 bonus to her Initiative. When the character makes all-out attacks, her Defense falls to its usual value. When active, the Dawnspear grants a weapon bonus of +4(L). Furthermore, her attacks with the Dawnspear inflict aggravated damage against the Gentry.

**Action:** Instant

**Mien:** When activated, the head of the Dawnspear seems preternaturally sharp and polished to a sheen that reflects a misty green light from its point that trickles down the spear in a thin conical shape. Spirals of green so dark as to be almost black wrap through the ephemeral light, and the overall effect makes the weapon seem more a jousting lance than a spear.

**Drawback:** Use of the Dawnspear turns the character into an agent of change, whether she likes it or not. Wielding the weapon always results in some unplanned-for (and almost always unpleasant) consequence that changes the character’s life (and typically the lives of others). The alien grace she shows while holding the weapon may inspire a companion to betrayal or the character may accidentally plunge the weapon through a loved one.

**Catch:** The weapon requires the wielder never live a static existence. Each use of the weapon without tithing Glamour results in the character developing some permanent change to her body or life. Initially such changes are merely cosmetic: scars, tattoos, additional horns, etc. Heavy use of this catch, however, carries heavy burdens. After 10 minor changes the character begins suffering significant changes, which can range from a shift of Merit points (up to 4 at the Storyteller’s discretion) to a change of kith within the same seeming (again, Storyteller’s choice). After 10 major changes, the character’s body ceases to be able to maintain the dynamism ransacking it. Further uses of the catch result in major physical changes, often the loss of a body part (such an eye or leg), which usually includes the accumulation of a Flaw. A character that has garnered 10 physical changes (meaning one who has used the Dawnspear’s catch 30 times) simply disappears, taking the spear with her. Stories usually arise of the Dawnspear’s use in some distant location, but no further word is ever heard of the missing changeling.

#### War Pledges

Changelings involved in open combat with other changelings, hobgoblins, the Gentry or stranger things yet often turn to pledge-craft as a way to protect themselves from their enemies. Such war pledges are often short-lived affairs, pacts made with other warriors for the same cause.

Furthermore, changelings are disinclined to swear particularly demanding oaths with their brothers in arms, some of whom they may not know well. As a result, changelings at war often try to milk the most power they can out of the pledges by placing incredibly vicious sanctions on the pledges. After all, if a changeling can’t cleave to a relatively simple task for a short period of time, she deserves whatever she gets.

##### The Ironwood Pact: A Sample War Pledge

*—Those gathered here today do solemnly swear upon my crown of office that we shall march as one into battle. As one our weapons shall cleave our enemies in twain, rend their flesh and shatter their bones. Our fists shall fall upon them like thunder, and the glory of Eternal Summer shall assure that we never falter from pain or weariness. Know though, that the first and last of you to betray this compact shall not only be ostracized from our Court, but be struck down with glorious fire that will course through your blood and char your soul.*

*—All right, maggots. Everybody’s hands on the sundial. For today, we’re family. We watch each other’s backs. We keep one another alive. We don’t fuck one another over. Tomorrow can be business as usual, but today, we’re kin. With our family at our back, we’ll be shit-kickers. Our punches will land harder, our blades will be sharper, our guns will shoot straighter and our feet will run faster. We won’t feel pain until we’re on death’s door. But if you fuck over one of your family, I will personally see to it that your flesh is burned away from your yellow bones. Understood?*

**Type:** Corporal, Courtly Emblem

**Tasks:** Alliance, Medial (–2, all to one another)

**Boons:** Adroitness, Lesser (+1, Weaponry, all); Adroitness, Lesser (+1, Athletics, all); Adroitness, Lesser (+1, Brawl, all); Adroitness, Lesser (+1, Firearms, all); Blessing, Medial (+2, Iron Stamina ••, all)

**Sanction:** Pishogue, Greater (–3, The Lord’s Dread Gaze, all); Vulnerability, Glamour (–2, all)

**Duration:** One Day (+1)

**Invocation:** 1 Willpower

This potent pledge is representative of an agreement a leader of the Summer Court might make with her soldiers before entering the fray. It grants bonuses to every combat skill, ensuring that the changelings under its power can fight well in a variety of circumstances, as well as providing the oathsworn the stamina to keep the struggle up until they’re on death’s door. The price for forswearing such an oath, however, is high, and the retribution levied upon the offender a bolt of blazing light in the form of one of Summer’s most potent Contracts.

As a pledge forged for the greater good of the Court, it is remarkably even-handed, holding the leader to the same standards as his soldiers. The changelings bound in such an oath will recognize this, perhaps fighting more valiantly out of respect for their commander.

Why, do you not recognize me?

I am your prince. Your Prince Charming.

My kiss awakens the slumbering pretties. My sword cuts out the hearts of the wicked stepmothers. I know the answer to your riddle! My boot will crush your poison apple!

What’s that, you say?

The smell? A refuse heap, you say?

Stop your vile tongue or I’ll stop it for you. You’ll not know my true name, troll. The first syllable of a sibilant whisper and I’ll wrench your worm’s tongue from your accursed mouth!

What? Those aren’t corpses, lowly maggot, tiny dwarf. They’re Manikins, dolls upon which I keep my suits of armor and my princely attire. Attire I might wear to a beautiful ball, a ball at which I will meet my true love, a lowly girl like your sister, an ugly duckling who shall be made into a crystal shoe! Yes!

That is not blood matting my hair. Not at all. My locks are naturally bronzed. It’s the way the light plays off them. You think to confound me, frog prince?

You cannot! I own these stories! Ha, ha, yes! I’ve got the snake by the throat and by the tail, and it coils and bites when I command it — not before.

Here, then, horrible witch, take this pouch of gold coins and go buy yourself a—

Pardon me? Subway tokens? You must be daft. Those are gold coins, taken from the dragon’s belly, spun from sugar and wished into being! I’m done with your lying mouth, your burning oven, witch.

Meet my sword!

Happily ever after for me.

Once upon a corpse-heap, for you.

Ha-ha!

Próximo: Capítulo 2