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A poll for a character I will make!

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  • A poll for a character I will make!

    In honor of Acrozatarim and SecondChances, I’m having a poll for a Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition character I will give a full write-up on. This write-up will include a separate vote on a hob related to said character, and a third vote on the Gentry in question.

    For the vote on the changeling character:
    A—- An Absinthal Beast with an equally addictive hob pet.
    B —- A Gremlin Wizened, with a Token from a timeline that never was.
    C —- A Witchtooth Darkling, from a freehold on Pluto.
    D —- A Bricoleur Beast, an impossible thing made flesh.
    E —- A Librorum Ogre, who is both the book he carries and the being holding the book.
    F —- A Swarmflight Fairest beekeeper with bodies buried in her backyard.

    For the related hob:
    A —- A Hedge ghost teddy bear left to grow feral.
    B —- A ‘bog mummy’ seeking company in the muck.
    C —- An avian patriarch of a haunted Hollow.
    D —- A reality-defying machine-hob from the Vega star-cluster.
    E —- A literal samurai crab.
    F —- A terrifying muppet that feasts on sleep paralysis.

    And for the Gentry the above-mentioned changeling was abducted by and later escaped from:
    A —- The many-armed giantess with a love of the hunt.
    B —- A sapient black hole.
    C —- A gigantic centipede wearing a Noh theatre mask.
    D —- A never-seen monster stalking his changelings throughout its Realm.
    E —- A bird with its beak jammed into the shoulder of a zombie like a hypodermic needle, piloting that zombie around like a strange vehicle.
    F —- The all-powerful monarch of the sun.

    We’ll conclude voting in a few days, then I’ll do the write-ups as promised!

  • #2
    FBC. Gimme those backyard bodies.

    Comment


    • #3
      E — E — C.


      MtAw Homebrew:
      Even more Legacies, updated to 2E
      New 2E Legacies, expanded

      Comment


      • #4
        B -- F -- D .

        Comment


        • #5
          D---D---D.


          Comment


          • #6
            I will go with options of C-B-D. for a $1,000 Miyam Balak.


            What in the name of Set is going on here?

            Comment


            • #7
              F, E, C for my vote, but I really like them all.

              Comment


              • #8
                So far:
                First category
                A - 0
                B - 1
                C - 1
                D - 2
                E - 1
                F - 2

                The second category
                A - 0
                B - 3
                C - 0
                D - 1
                E - 2
                F - 1

                And the third category
                A - 0
                B - 0
                C - 4
                D - 3
                E - 0
                F - 0

                Poll’s still open though!
                Last edited by Demigod Beast; 12-03-2022, 06:19 PM.

                Comment


                • #9
                  I'll go with D-B-C

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    The poll will be open for three more days (counting today). Then, we’ll do a final tally. If no dominant vote in one of the three categories is apparent, then I’ll put in my own vote, just to decide the matter, once and for all. Hopefully, me votin* won’t be necessary!

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Alrighty, then, the polls remain open til nightfall. Its 12:38 right now, where I am, and nightfall’s around 5:00, so we still have a few hours left to vote!

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Aaaaaand, the winners are!

                        D and F are tied for slot one!

                        B is the clear winner for slot two!

                        C is the clear winner of slot three!

                        So, the results of the write-ups I’ll be doing are:
                        For a changeling, we have a tie. So, I choose to break the tie with D.

                        For a hob, we will be seeing a bog mummy, buried in the mud, desperate for company in the wet, cold earth.

                        For the Gentry the changeling belonged to before escaping, we have a gargantuan centipede wearing a Japanese Nog theater mask.

                        Quite an interesting combination. Give me a few days to let ideas percolate, then I’ll start.

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Alrighty-O, then. I did the easy one, first. The Gentry have no stats when in their places of power, sooooo...here you go!

                          The Keeper:
                          Name: the Crawler Beneath all Color and Raiment.
                          Titles Being Depicted: the Bright Worm (Actor); the Labyrinth of Prismatic Silk (Realm).
                          Title Not Being Depicted: the Unwoven Loom (Prop).
                          As a Gentry in Arcadia, stats are basically pointless. He never leaves his Realm save to impress one of his Titles into a Huntsman, and, as such, is essentially omnipotent, with only the weaknesses his narrative gives him.

                          Color is alive. Color has weight, mass and a shadow. It has will and purpose and desire. Underneath all colors squats the abomination known as the Bright Worm, an arthropod horror.

                          His Realm, the Labyrinth of Prismatic Silk, is less a true maze and more a chaotic strewn series of dead ends, pitfalls and hidden insectile and crustacean hob predators. The walls and floor and ceiling are indestructible rainbow-hued silk, save in a few spots the Bright Worm can’t perceive. To wander here is perilous, but it must be done, for the Bright Worm is ever-hungry for mortal company.

                          The Bright Worm has a wife, a changeling so long in his captivity no humanity remains, and she must continuously bear him eggs and young. To feed the ravenous hunger this inhuman thing demands requires regular changeling captives: clever Beasts to hunt, strangely beautiful Darklings to tend to his bride, sturdy but colorful Elementals to shore up his maze, Fairest for his harem when he tires of his womb-wife, hulking, slow Ogres to protect his spouse and canny Wizened to full all other needs. Kiths are varied, as theoretically any of them can find a niche in the Labyrinth of Prismatic Silk.

                          Dreams are close to the surface, in the Labyrinth of Prismatic Silk, dyes exuded by the Bright Worm permeate everything. Wild hallucinations are common, as are periods of screaming non-lucidity. No changeling imprisoned here can be sure what is real and what is fever-dream. Even the Fairest in his harem can’t truly tell whether they lay with the Bright Worm, or else are wrapped up in silk, left alone to their delusions.

                          At the center of this madness squats the Bright Worm, his corpulent brood-wife, countless eggs and lumbering Ogres—-either arthropods themselves or wearing armor resembling arthropods—-stay eternal vigil.

                          The Bright Worm is a humungous thing, a rainbow-colored centipede, a mask of the Noh theater of Japan covering its face—-or perhaps is it’s face. None can tell, for sure. A crown of sharp wooden fragments rises from beneath his scalp, and they bleed constantly and profusely. When it talks, it’s voice the voice of ten thousand crying angels, weeping despairingly even as the Bright Worm revels in the misery he causes.

                          Among the Gentry, he is very powerful, but many others dwarf him in raw might: the Almighty Monarch of the Sun; the God That Endures; and the King of Colors

                          [Design note: Yes, I am well aware centipedes have nothing to do with silk. But, Arcadia is a Realm of madness, so the themes, at least in my mind, join together wonderfully.]

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            The changeling:
                            Hezikiah Chalice
                            Background: Even he doesn’t know his real name any more. But he knows he must keep moving. The fact he’s Ironside means nothing. Movement = life. This Hezikiah knows all too well.

                            Pre-durance, Hezikiah’s life is a haze, but he remembers a few things. He remembers a preacher. Someone named King, who was all over the news. He remembers a bird in a white-colored house. He remembers protesting, angry shouts and unkind words. He remembers the look on his father’s face when Hezikiah told him he was leaving to fight in this struggle. His father said, “This is not a job for you. Men like you have no place in this world. Forget these insane dreams.” But Hezikiah did not listen.

                            He remembers his durance better. He remembers the silk shop, and the squat old woman who ran it. He remembers going into the back to try on something—-why would he be trying on a dress? Hezikiah no longer recalls, but he remembers his excitement.

                            He got Lost back there, and ended up in a place beyond reason: in a half-maze of massive amounts of glowing, rainbow-colored silk and a multihued haze that permeated the air. It was not like a traditional labyrinth. It was not designed to be solved. It was full of dead ends, sheer drops and monumental piles of dessicated corpses.

                            He remembers running always running, from brightly colored giant crabs and ten-foot-long centipedes with shrill, high voices. He remembers all the times they almost caught him, only to escape at the last possible second. Hezikiah remembers becoming a Beast, an impossible mammal of non-Euclidean shape and sharp, disjointed angles.

                            Hezikiah learned the fog he breathed in would delude him, surround him with the unreal. But he learnt quickly to embrace the madness, to embrace so wholeheartedly it transfigured into a Realm unto itself. Hezikiah escaped down unreal roads to escape his pursuers, only to encounter phantasmagoric nightmares too vivid and confused for a lucid mind to dream up. In time, Hezikiah learnt to befuddle such aberrations with dream-logic of his own.

                            Over time, he heard the singing: the lovely tune that promised safety in the gullet of a monster. Come to me, the voice sang. I am bright and I am light and I am real, in a way that is undeniable. Bathe in my light, rest in my gullet, be set free. Hezikiah knew better, and so he didn’t listen to the voice.

                            One day, Hezikiah found a dull, colorless splotch in the maze’s silk bars, and how soft...ungrounded...it was. But he paid it no heed. He had no more thoughts to think, only the instinct to run.

                            He lost track of time, did Hezikiah, and so he forgot the tender-spot in the walls of manifest lunacy. He ran. He hid. He walked roads real and unreal. Again and again and again, Hezikiah esaped his Fate.

                            Then....he heard something, a song. Curious, Hezikiah traces it to its source, that soft place in the walls. The song spoke of hope, of redemption, of a man who could wash away the wrongs of one’s past. It came from beyond the wall.

                            Hezikiah remembered. He remembered his father’s kind words, his mother’s soothing presence, and a sister called Tabitha. He remembered what it was like to live before the endless chasing. He remembered a nameless turmoil tearing his family apart, but not what caused it.

                            So...he chewed, Hezikiah chewed through the silk. And, when he came to an indigestible spot, he slipped sideways into a state of mind where his way was not blocked at all.

                            He chewed through to the Hedge. Behind him, Hezikiah could hear the chitinous buzzing of his hunters, and so he ran, tearing blindly through the Hedge, heedless of pain or injury. He left his soul on the Thorns, but he didn’t stop, didn’t dare to stop.

                            His immense power over dreams faded to but a remnant, and he exploded back onto Earth. He crawled away to hide and cried himself to sleep.

                            He cautiously explored Ironside when he awoke. The King’s message had been heard, though the King had died. Dark and light were slowly reaching equilibrium, though much progress was still needed.

                            He found others like himself, and joined a freehold of changelings who belonged to a farm of Amish. They lived simple lives of hard work and joyous celebration, and Hezikiah was given a new name, because he could not remember his own.

                            Appearance: In his durance, Hezikiah constantly reinvented himself, shapeshifting according to a bestial logic only he understood. On Earth, however, this power has faded tremendously. His fluid flesh gained a solidity, a stability.

                            He is still mammalian under his Mask, but what exactly he is is unclear. His fur shimmers in a disco haze of colors, his tail long and prehensile, claws on his fingers and toes. But he is beautiful, slender and leanly muscled, with his upper chest somewhat puffed out.

                            Hezikiah’s voice is high-pitched, but it is not shrill. It is calm and gentle and reassuring.

                            Roleplaying Notes: Hezikiah wants to find his own past. Most of all, he wants to find Tabitha. He remembers he and she looked very alike, and they had the same interests. He remembers being jealous of Tabitha, though not why. When he dreams, he sometimes is her. What could it all mean?

                            Something about Tabitha made their father ashamed, but Hezikiah remembers protecting her as best he could. He must find her. Things are not as they should be. What exactly should be is...unclear.

                            [Stats forthcoming.]

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