This is an in-character game thread from Changeling: In Love and War. (This page is not Creative Commons licenced.)
Deep in the bowels of Castle Poppy, inexplicable things steamed and
even less sensible things bleeped and flickered as Schrodinger and
Heisenberg rushed around, setting up the laboratory as best they
could. In the centre of this eccentric dance of activity and
probability, Gustafssen stood serenely flicking the feather from side
to side in his hand.
The feather shone with a purple light that nearly – but not quite –
reflected its actual colour, and it felt cool to the touch. It
also felt unnaturally tingly, a good sign that this feather came not
from a bird but from a dream.
With several whirrs and a worryingly loud clunk, a gigantic magnifying
glass lowered itself across one of the scientist's many desks, light
flashing back and forth inside it, ready to carry out Gustafssen's own
unique brand of scientific investigation.
Cassually the Fae scientist walked over to the magnifying glass and
placed the feather beneath it, before casually taking a twenty pence
piece from his pocket and placing it in the slot fixed into the side of
the table. Instantly deep within the bowels of the table a timer
mechanism started to run and the image within the glass sharpened
drastically and slowly began to zoom in on the feather. On the
other side of the laboratory images and print outs began to be printed
out and high above in the castle all the magical mirrors began spewing
the latest reports from the London stock exchange. When finally
the glass reached almost full zoom Gustafssen placed several leaf
shaped filters over the lens and the twists and twirls of the glamour
that made up the very substance of the dream that the feather came into
It was at this moment in time that the timer mechanism chose to click
to a stop and the view before him was eclipsed by a the image of a
small card bearing the words ‘Thank you for your patronage. We
hope you have enjoyed your stay in sunny Graves End.’ Before
shutting down completely. One muffled word rang out through the
laboratory as pockets were patted down and several fluff covered boiled
sweets were unearthed before another coin was located. “Schei?e.”
Finally Gustafssen was staring at the finest points of glamour once
more with the intensity of one who has spent many years searching for
the true formula for the greatest Egg Mayonnaise and salad sandwich.
Deeper and deeper down through the layers of imagining, beyond the
black and beyond the purple, lie tendrils of colour and of suggestion.
Right, you're going to have to roll Int + Hearth
Wisdom to find out cool stuff from the feather. You have 7 dice
there, but it's tricky (difficulty 8). You can use some piece of
tech for +3 dice, but you might incur your kith's
everything-has-some-tiny-flaw thing. The more successes you get,
the more info you get. Choice is yours!
Quietly Gustafssen watched the read outs in front of him, occasionally
feeding coins into the slot. Once when the coin supply ran out he
absentmindedly emptied the machines coin back and started the process
all over again. Finally he reached for the Sonic
Zauberr¸ckgespr‰ch Pendelbewegung heben und Leser auf and focused 6
asparagus shaped metal spears around the feather.
GM: Okies I’ll do it, hopefully with all the artificial kith fun
I’ve thrown in so far it wont affect me when I really need it. If
not I have another idea.
Translates as: Sonic glamour feedback Oscillation pick up and reader
Tendrils of resonant sound echo out from the feather, coruscate along
the asparagus, and dissolve themselves into flickering
half-word-half-symbol creations along the rim of the magnifying glass.
Elaine, Agent of the Black Rose Committee…
An angel of purple feathers; a lady of suspicious patronage.
Her soul, like her associations, shrouded in mystery.
Representative of the Committee, does she have her own will?
Many associations branch out from a dark abode.
Betwixt the Colours, where no man may stand;
Perhaps other things may stand in their stead.
As the words swirled around the edges of the lens a deep thoughtful
expression crossed the great fae’s face. Upon seeing his
expression Schrodinger and Heisenberg hastened their activities, they
knew what that face meant. Often it meant explosions, smoke and a
large consignment of mixed vegetable paste to the kitchens.
Nanoseconds stretched out to milliseconds, milliseconds to seconds and
finally seconds into minutes. This was unheard of, that
Gustafssen should stand and think for a ten whole minutes. It
brought terror into the lab fairies hearts and awe into their minds,
what would the output of such a long silence be? Would it contain
vegetable matter? Most certainly. Would it destroy the
world? Who knows, but it had happened before. Was it
safe? They damned well hoped so.
And then as if the intervening minutes hadn’t occurred Gustafssen was
heading towards the potato pens with a light bounce in his step.
Carefully he selected a potato that seemed to be lagging behind all the
others as they roamed around their enclosure. It just didn’t seem
to have the energy of the others, seeming to want to curl up in a
corner instead of marauding around stomping and occasionally breaking
out into a scuffle like the rest of its cohort. After carefully
extracting the vegetable, and shaking off the few who tried to bite him
in some way, he took the potato to his work bench and strapped it into
a small potato sized metal frame chair. This done he took what
looked like a small colander with multicoloured wires streaming from it
the other end of which attached to the feather, and placed it gently on
the potatoes head before carefully buckling a strap under an area that
could only be called the potatoes chin by the extremist of definitions
of the word. Finally everything was in readiness for the
experiment. All that was left was for him to throw the
switch. Which he did…
… the switch sailed across the room in a perfectly calculated arch,
narrowly missing the stuffed alligator and oddly glowing baubles that
hung from the ceiling, before landing with a thud on the power
button. And suddenly the room was full of lighting flashing
about, smoke pouring out of vents in the walls, water flowing freely up
the walls. Throughout the castle lamp lights and candle flames
alight flashed on and off. Hundred of giant red arrows popped out
of the walls and gleefully told all who could hear that in no uncertain
terms they were ‘Here!’ Dust poured from the stone work undoing
hours of work by the servants. People’s hair crackled with static
electricity and cats suddenly became as attractive to buttered toast as
red wine is to freshly laid white carpets. Those unfortunate few
that had the toast fix to their back spent many unhappy minutes
spinning in mid air as the world sort to calculate which was more
likely to hit the ground first Cats feet or toast butter side down.
Carefully Gustafssen lifted the potato from its chair and laid it into
a small bed, complete with nightstand, glass of water and night cap,
tucked it in and placed it under the giant lens in place of the
feather. “To sleep Perchance to dream meine s¸sse
Kartoffel. Dream the dreams that it is beyond our ken to know.
Zeigen Sie uns die Welt, die hinter geschlossenen T¸ren ‹berfluss
hat. Show us the dreams of the Fairies! And bring us the
answers we seek.”
[Private to GM: You wanted Psudo science you got it 😀
Translation 1: My Sweet potato
Translation 2: Show us the world that abounds behind closed doors.]
Gustaffsen rolls to divine information from the feather.
Rolling (Intelligence) 5 + (Hearth Wisdom) 2 + (Dreamtech Bonus) 3 = 10
As the potato fell dreamily into sleep, the vision of its dream flickered and appeared in the centre of Gustafssen's lab.
It began, as so many do, with flight. Flight, low and fast,
across the land of faerie. Castle Poppy was a mere flicker on the
journey, but recognisable nonetheless, before the potato flew far out
west toward the very centre of fairyland.
The flight slowed as it approached the Queen's Castle – a vast towering
precipice of white ice and blue fire that jutted up out of the
landscape like a crystal dart thrown by God. Near to it, however,
was a tall tower that Gustafssen had not seen or even heard of before.
This area was declared a neutral territory by both sides of the
war. It contained – or should have contained – only the Queen's
residence, and inviolable place that neither Reds nor Whites wanted to
challenge. But yet here was a second tower, tall and black, an
obsidian dart to the Queen's diamond.
Soaring up into the sky, the potato saw tendrils of association and of
possibility stretch out from the tower in all directions, constanly
moving, as if some blind beast were tentatively feeling its way around
the surrounding land.
Then to potato flew higher, higher still, up through the dome of the
sky, and saw laid out before it a saucepan, a chopping board and a
selection of particularly sharp-looking knives.
The potato suffered a religious experience, and woke up.
Just as Gustafssen was pondering what the starchy vision had shown him, a maid bustled in at rapid velocity of feet and words.
she said, before departing with impressive speed.
As the maid servant ran from the laboratory Gustafssen exclaimed.
“Immer sie interupt am interessantesten von Momenten!!!” Before
carefully wrapping the feather in impervious cabbage and telling
Schrodinger to take it to high security storage in the vegetable
patch. The fairy technician nodded and ran off carrying his
package, pale faced but compliant.
As he strode about his lab throwing things into his bag Gustafssen
started muttering to himself, “Ich hoffe, da? es nicht wie
letztes Mal ist. Ich erkl‰rte der Herzogin, die ihre Unterw‰sche
gerade nicht zum opperate bei den optimalen Icecreamtemperaturen
entworfen ist.” Only pausing to yell, “Heisenberg!!!! What
ever it is that you do go do it in the Kitchen please”
Finally when everything was prepared he picked the potato up and popped
it into his bag also before heading off out the lab and towards the
kitchens. As he disappeared around a corner all that could be
herd drifting back was the clank of his bag and the words “I mean
after that they were picking bits of chef, ice cream and whale bone
corset out of the walls for weeks afterwards…”
[Private to GM:
Translation 1) Always they interupt at the most interesting of moments!!!
Translation 2) I hope it's not like last time. I told the
Duchess that her underwear just isn't designed to opperate at optimum
icecream temperatures. ]