Shiv's Papers

You are a Scathach! The Scathach are one of the
most mysterious houses. The Scathach, or grey
walkers, remained on Earth when the other sidhe
fled to Arcadia, and consider it their task to
watch over and protect the fey. Scathach are
master of all forms of combat, both armed and
unarmed. They are also trained in the ways of
stealth. Unlike other sidhe, the power of
banality does not wear so heavily on the
Scathach, for they practice the Changeling way
of sharing a body with a mortal. However, they
exhibit a frightening battle rage when
fighting, and this, combined with their skill
and silent demeanor, makes the other fey fear
them.


What Changeling Noble House are you? (Updated!)
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Not good. Not feckin good.

"Don't worry, House Leahnaun Of Concordia isn't interested in you."

Feck you baroness or whatever yer feckin title is. Tell me she didn't have nothin ta do with the Feckin spook that's here.

Not only that, she's impersinatin Lady Shayndel. Makin it look like Shay is ravagin people. This sucks.

I jest hope that if I bring Sammy or Billy a sidhe in a box they'll be able ta tell who's who. Cause as of Right the feck now it's freeze first and question later.

I feckin hate this. part o me was lookin fer a little piece and quiet fer a change. feck that, aye?

Well, this was an interesting day fer me, and that's fer sure.

So Shayndel and Billy, they call a meetin ta discuss the region. Funny how when they do that nobody but Boston ever Shows up. I figure what they aught ta do is just throw a huge feckin party. That aught ta drag people in, and then they can talk politics all they feckin want.

Well, anyways, while we're all gabbin away, this huge feckin bug shows up and off go Billy, Curran and this childling name o Cobalt. They smush the damned bug faster than ye can imagine, and come back. No sooner do they do so, then this big walkin pile o garbage shows up. Seems he's tired and bored, and wants ta give back somethin he's been holdin on to.

A hearthstone. Fer a freehold in the fort.

So Billy an Sammy, they go and set up the freehold. Get it lit. And the call up Shandel and go to swear. Only they're already sworn ta a freehold, right? so it don't work.

They grab me, an Cobalt (who's an eshu) an Curran, and we swear ta it.

Only afters does it occur ta me something. If I'm sworn ta this freehold, How am I supposed ta help with findin the Complication?

shyte.

Just a quick OOC note for you all

I have gone through the effort to have my character registered as part of the Irish Changeling Game.

The ANST Shining Host in Ireland has informed me that I'm the ONLY Clurichaun in the United States who can claim to be from Ireland!

All you others are Faking it! HA!

Lord above, I wish I kenned which direction ta go.

Me mates from that ship I sailed upon so many lifetimes ago are ta be in Maine soon. They want me ta meet them, and go after our old ship, which was lost ta the dreamin long ago.

Or go ta White Sands, and return the hospitality o Lady Shayndel by helpin her late husband's land free themselves o the minions o the Enemy.

Or to Northern Ice, ta battle a True Formorian, like I came ta Boston ta do.

I don't know which way ta go. I'm no soothsayer. No knower of the future. I'm just a man with a gun and a ######.* All I do know is I canna sit around any longer.

But where ta go?

(ooc: all of Shiv's entries look handwritten, despite the fact that this is a transmitted media.
* the text marked with ###### was written and scratched out. Those with a form of Hightened Senses may be able to make out the words beneath, but it will be difficult.





it says Killer.)

Clurichaun. You are one of the little people, or so
they say. No, you don't have Lucky Charms, but
you can disappear in the twinkling of an eye,
and you love you drink, perhaps a little too
much some days. Still, you can drink with the
best of them, and ya know you have Irish blood
running through your veins.


What Type of Changeling Are You? (Now Including Pictures for Each Kith)
brought to you by Quizilla

Ok, I did this cause I was bored.

http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RGLD&g=1&o=1&h=127

The Boy Next Door
Random Gentle Love Dreamer (RGLDm)


Kind, yearning, playful, you are The Boy Next Door. You're looking for real Love, a lot like girls do. It might not be manly, but it's sweet.

We think the next three years will be very exciting and fruitful ones for you. Your spontaneous, creative side makes you a charming date, and we think you have a horny side just waiting to shine. Or glisten, rather. You enter new relationships unusually hopeful, and the first moments are especially glorious. If you've had some things not work out before, so what.


Your exact opposite:
The 5-Night Stand

Deliberate Brutal Sex Master

On paper, most girls would name the Boy Next Door as their ideal mate. In the real world, however, you're often passed over for more dangerous or masculine men. You're the typical "nice guy:" without just a touch of cockiness, you're doomed with girls. A shoulder to cry on? Okay, sure. But never a penis to hold.

More than any other type, Boys Next Door evolve as they get older. As we said, many find true love, but some fail miserably in the search. These tarnished few grow up to be The Men Next Door, who are creepy as hell, offering backrubs to kids and what not.


ALWAYS AVOID: The Nymph

CONSIDER: The Maid of Honor, The Peach

((ooc: sad to say, I got this same result ooc as I did IC. ))

So, I'm goin through me case, and found a few o me old photos.

Gods I miss me mates.

Of course, there was Lady Abigail, a Sidhe lass, 'n a wilder when I was childling. Billy wondered once why I'd serve a Sidhe. Don't know why he's got an issue with it. But here's the reason: Simple, really. She raised me since I was a wee lad. She was the only mum I ever knew. So feck off Billy.

Twasn't just Her that died the night the bald protestant bastard and his bunch o' jackboots kicked in the door, though.

Al and Ed. Alphonse and Edward Elric. Identical Brothers, save in the dreamin. Ed was a nocker, Al a troll, both master dream makers. Youngest members o' the order o' alchemists too. Al always looked sorta like a big old suit o' armor thanks ta a curse, but he was a kind lad. Jest don't call Ed a pipsqueak. Me comin along made him real happy, seein' as I was smaller than him and always would be.

I buried them side by side. that's how they stood in life. Fittin how brothers should be buried.

Then there's Michael. A sluagh, he was best with daggers, and taught me all I knew. Couldn't teach stealth fer some reason. Jest couldn't get it that I don't move like he does. He was the Baroness' age, and I'm bettin he was her seer.

Kino.

She was the first Eshu I'd ever met. Thought she was a boy at first. Little tomboy with her motorbike. that bastard never liked me, But Hermes didn't like anyone but Kino so it was all right.

She all but laughed her arse off the first time I met a non-asian Eshu and told him he was a liar fer claimin ta be one. She taught me lots o' things, stealth most of all, and was a dear friend when there weren't none left fer me.

All I ever found o' her was her hat, after the fire. That and her pistol. I'd like ta think maybe she got away, escaped the way them Eshu do. But she'd never run from a fight, and she'd never leave that pistol behind. Her teacher gave it to her.

I planted a cherry tree on her grave. They were her favorite flowers, so maybe in a while I'll go back.

Rupert was the house Boggan. By that I mean he did all the cookin and kept house. Only grump I knew, seemed he was a butler before he woke up ta the dreamin' and never stopped bein one. Never kenned him fer a fighter, but he died protectin Lady Abigail. Him I buried near ta her, in case in the afters she needs somethin.

damn this is depressin. I need a drink.

Out.

Hello mates,
Well, I'm back. Me and Shrike went ta do a little huntin in Maine. Alas, I couldn't find much more n' a rabbit. This time. Soon as I get me shite in order I'll be back up that way.

Billy went and got himself some high flauntin Military job. Very interestin that. Very deservin too, from what I hear.

He questioned me the other night as ta why I'm stickin around here. Honestly, I don't know. It's nice ta hang my hat round other Irish, there's that. And me enemies haven't found me yet.

But he got me ta thinkin. Sure, that lass Miranda says I'm a pirate, and part of her crew. But then again, she's a pooka, and they say lots o things.

anyways, I got me a nice little place on 7th street. Got me a job bouncin too. That'll last till I get me some coin. Maybe take the lass at the bar's offer ta learn the trade.

Well, Saturday I show Billy jest what Lady Abagail had in mind fer me. Should be a fun time.

[ooc: NO one should be able to see this scene unless they're up at 4:00am to notice Patrick sneaking out and follow him or use Soothsay to see what's going on.]

Like clockwork, Patrick woke up and quickly dressed. Glancing over at the clock, he noted the time.  4:00 am.  Called the Hour of the Rat and Dead Man's Hour, it was the time of the day that most surprise attacks happened.

It was also the exact moment that he had found Shrike singing in that nightmare realm.

Stealthily creeping out of the house, the Ugly Bird swooped down and grabbed him around the torso the moment he was in the clear.  Flying off, they landed on the Elevator Train Bridge that crossed the Cape Cod Canal.

"stupid Feckin bird.  So sing yer song already.  It's time for me ta practice my quickdraw anyway"

Perched a few feet away on one of the suspensor cables, Shrike simply stared at him for a moment, as Patrick stared off towards the slowly rising sun, quickly drawing and replacing his pistol.  Rather than sing, it began to chant in a voice like a funeral bell.

"I am the one
Called Gazmatron
The outstreached grasping hand
I am ages of agony
My servants rape the land
Obsequious and arrogant
Plunder still in vain
two thousand years of misery
of torture in my name
Hypocracy made paramount
Paranoia the law
My name is called "Religion"
Sadistic Sacred Whore.

"I Twist the truth
I rule the world
My crown is called "Deceit"
I am the emperor of Lies
you grovel at my feet
I love you And I slaughter you" The bird sings as it stares at Patrick

"your downfall is my gain
and still you play the sychophant
and revel in your pain
and all my promises are lies
and all my love is hate
I am the politician,
and I decide your fate."

"I fly before the Multitude
An army for the fight
I speak of great heroic days
of victory and might
I am the banner drenched in blood
I urge you to be brave
I lead you to your destiny
I lead you to your grave"

Patrick turns and stares at the bird, locking eyes with him as they both repeat the next lines

"Your bones will build my palaces
your eyes will stud my crown
For I am Gazmatron, the Deathbird
And I will cut you down."

For a minute, neither bird nor master look away.  Finally, Shrike's hematite eyes blink and the bird dips its head in submission.

"Someday" it voiced, "Someday you will lose our battle."

"Aye" Patrick replied, releasing the grip he kept on his pistol "And someday I will die.  But not today.  Lets go home.  May should be wakin up soon, and I dinna want ta miss out on one o' her breakfasts."

Well, Lady Shayndel invited me ta the gather the other day, seein as they were celebratin' the death of the Hag, and holdin an irish wake fer those who fell fightin her.

So I went. Things went.. ok. Twas quiet. seein as most of hte residents were still a bit gunshy I kin understand.

This nocker named Johnny wanted ta take me Shrike off me hands. I was tempted, but Shrike woulda come back and killed me fer sure.

Then he had a nice little throwdown, ta see how fast he could get ta his car. Between me an Billy (Another Clurichaun! what's the world comin ta?) He dinna get nowhere fast.

Since no one else was drinkin, I decided ta do their share for them. Sadly, what with the case I'd drunk before I got to the party, it started catchin up to me.

I don't remember much after that, Don't think I started singing this time.

All I do remember after that was Billy smackin me one for fallin over, and This Redcap a name o' Morgan want'n a test o me skills. Woulda gone better if a) I'd got a little distance atween us, and b) not let him bite so neare the pride o' County Clare.

I lost. But fair. The fact that the Protestant Bastard attacked me afterwards was probably him want'n another taste o' Irish blood.

Sadly, that was ta be the test o' wether these boston folks hire me. Guess I'll have ta find me employment another way.

Or maybe just take a few wallets here an there.

[ooc: all entries marked with [Scene] are just that. Scenes that I'm sharing. If you're not in the scene, you don't know this happened. However, if you are in the scene feel free to share.]

Patrick lied in his rented bed, his rosary on the table beside him. He staired at the strange medallion that he'd carried from the day he awoke as a changeling. The Galleon blowing in the wind on one side, the harp of Eire on the other. Slowly he fell asleep with it still clutched in his hand.

"Hello Hello Pretty Pretty" He said to the otter Pooka leaning over him. "Next time you go searching an Irishman's kilt, ye should make shure he's alseep."

He threw another brace of daggers at the guardsmen, even as his wings pushed him higher and higher into the air

"Bloody hell Cap'n! I'm not a bloody pirate - I'm a privateer. When was the last time ye heard of an Irish Pirate?"

Watching, tears in his eyes, as the mighty ship sailed in the opposite direction. But he had a mission to do. and he knew he'd find his way back to her. So he flapped his wings and headed...

"What? just tell the blighter already. At least then he'll know how ye feel. I mean, worst that happens, is he breaks yer heart lass. And if he does that, I'll remind him why I'm named shiv."

a casket lies before him, and slowly and surely he sprinkles water over it, wearing the high collar of a priest. "And shepards we shall be, for thee my lord for thee. Power flows from thy hand, Our feet struggle to carry out thy command. And a river we shall flow to thee, and teaming with souls shall it ever be. Et Fillis, Et Nomine Patris, et Spiritus Sancti"

he woke up with a start, the last words of the family prayer on his lips. And as before, he could all but feel the mists trying to steal the image from his mind.
"Damnation! No. Who .. where... arrr! Why does it have to be so bloody Complicated!!!"

Well, this is an interesting turn of events.

Here I was, going to Boston to help in a fight. And I get into a fight before I get there. The bastards found me again, on my way. Shot me up a bit.

So, I bail out after busting up their helo. Go to crash in a little place a friend of the family tells me about, and go for a jaunt in the glade.

And meet one of the nicest Sidhe I've come ta meet since Lady Abigail.

She notices the wounds, since I couldn't stop flinching. All but demands I crash at her house, as she's some sort of healer.

Well, this should be interesting. I start off going to boston ta kill a hag, and end up being fawned over by a good lookin' sidhe lady. Ok, she's married and with child, but still, it's nice ta know that there are others like Lady Abigail out there.

Every Story has it's beginnings.

I don't remember my Ma or Pa. Lady Abigail told me that they died when the protestants decided that they dinna like our church and blew it up. But I shouldn't cry, cause Ma was Kithain, and thus with the Shining ones in Tir na Nog now.

From shortly after I could walk, I've known only Lady Abigail MacFearson ap Fiona. She's always been fair, and just. Sometimes cruel, but that's a Sidhe's place in the dan, eh? She raised me afta finding me alone on the streets, wandering aimlessly. I remember seein how pretty she was, and how rich her wallet looked. So I took it. Impressed her too. I was down the block and outta sight before the rune trap on it went off and I got stuck.

"A proper thief should check for such traps, and should never be noticed while performing such a theft." she said.

Took it ta heart I did.

Anyways, Things were great for a time. She had me learned in shootin and sneakin and all the proper ways ta get the Bloody English and the Bloody Protestants. When I proved to her I could sit still for a full day, not moving at all, and that I was a fair shot she had me own gun made for me. A Demon Arms Sniper Rifle she called it. Ain't she a beaut?

It was a great time to be alive.

Made it through me tenative years by her side, learnin about the Great Houses and such. And the Real Reason she adopted me.

She was a lesser noble, but one tied to an organization that the nobles weren't ta keen on.

The Watchmen.

She was groomin me ta be a spy, and ta help the watchmen deal with corrupt nobles. Or so she claimed.

See, she died none too long ago. Just afta I found Shrike, me own friendly deathbird, a buncha bastards come and blew up the castle wit a bomb made outa glamour or some such. Didn't know that could be done.

Lady Abigail was dead. Me, she tol me ta run if such a thing happened. So I did. But I got a good look at the leader of the damn bunch. He wasn't ta proud o that, I'm sure. Missed him by only a fraction, and only cause the bastard wouldn't sit still.

I've been running ever since. He's still after me. Lady Abigail's loss hit me something hard, seeing as she was the closest to a Ma I've had. And wit her being Sidhe an all, I hear that there's no coming back for them. Guess in me grief I hit me wilders. Didn't notice.

Well, I've been down hanging out in the Carribean, stickin out like a sore thumb. But I distantly remember a ship and a Capt'n. Sommin about a problem or complication... or was that the bloody ship's name? I don't remember. All I do remember is me little pendant here is connected somehow. Don't remember how either.

Anyways, I've heard there's this big old war goin on in Apples, and I'm a bit o' a mercy, so I'm gonna see if they need any help.

Shrike - you sure you can steer clear o that hurricane? I do wanna get there on time, after all. No use bein' a mercy if ya can't get ta the battle.

Damn Deathbirds.