Soda water, lemon, and just a bit of elbow grease. Gets anything out.

..You weren't asking how to get blood out of silk? Huh, well then- you're welcome for the freebie.

You have the distinct pleasure of reading the fourth wall shattering autobiography of Alveris Alderis. Like all good men, I go by many names. Some, I'm admittedly more proud of than others.

Herald of Half Truths.
Deceiver of the Deepwood.

Obviously proud of those.

Tantric Troubadour of the Tanglebush.

Granted, it's true. I had a bit of wine. The lady Fey had a bit of wine. Next thing you know you're dancing and then, BAM- Orgy. Who wouldn't be proud of inciting that sort of thing? I certainly am, but it really hurts me with kids and parents- they're SO judgy.

What? You want to know who I am, and not just about how many apparently 80s style elves I nailed to earn my nickname? Boy you must just be the life of your parties.

My name is Alveris Alderis. I'm incredibly handsome, to the point it's just simpler to assure you that you'd a) definitely sleep with me and b) are not nearly as handsome as me.

I'm a Fey. We're basically immortal. Our society is much more complex and perfect than anything you've conceived. Our motives existential, superior, and unknowable. Our culture the pinnacle of perfection and our machinations inspirational and divine.

I'm fucking with you. Lord. Does it say gullible on your ceiling? We're no better than the humans in a lot of ways- we just have the decency to maintain a sense of superiority and an air of mystery about ourselves. It's called style and subtlety- the sort of concepts children never understand.

I'm a favored member of the Fey court, often sent on missions of national importance (and I mean that cross functionally. The court wants something, and that something usually involves me having to seduce a bunch of sexy creatures and drinking a lot of wine). I tend to think I'm providing both a cultural and economic exchange to the other races.

Hence how I find myself trapped on this tiny sub with a bunch of gnomes. Ugh. Gnomes. Too small to take as lovers, and too smart to be deceived. If I can't take you for a ride one way or another, I'm just not interested.

But Puck had tricked me, as he so often does. Fuck Puck.

It was a normal session of Oberon and Titania's court. The satyr shaving contest had just finished (Goatley won again, though it's somewhat unfair when he's shaving himself), when a messenger arrived for Lord Oberon. The news must have been poor- Oberon dropped his cup when he read it. In 1000 years, no Fey had seen Oberon waste a drop of wine.

The Contract. It had to be. Sidebar- a long time ago, the changelings, a race of, shall we say, useful creatures with an eponymous talent, entered into a potentially ill-conceived contract with the Fey, the terms of which may be the subject of some dispute. Long story short, someone's on board the ship we're chasing that might know something about the contract, and stupid Puck said he didn't want to go, and I thought he was playing coy, and now I'm stuck with a bunch of fucking gnomes I can't sleep with and who don't like to drink wine on a submarine in the middle of the god damn ocean.

Fuck Puck.

What? You wanted more? I'm not a details man. So now I'm here, allegedly on a mission of cultural teamwork, definitely not here about a secret contract which the Fey might be using to enslave an entire race. Shit. Forget about that last part.

..Did you want to hear about the Tanglebush again?

Ok. So you're growing skeptical I'm as tough as I say I am. First, I appreciate your candor- there's not enough of that in business these days. Second- fine. You metagaming whore. You're just supposed to be here for my uncensored lifestory, and now you want to plumb the depths of my skills and talents as well? Man. You guys are dicks.

STR   d4 - Look. I'm not the "strongest" guy around in the classical sense. No, I probably won't beat you in an arm wrestling contest, because I'll outsmart you before the contest, and probably nail your girl while you wallow in defeat. So come at me, just, you know, preferably not in a battle of raw muscular power; real men don't use violence to solve their problems.

AGI   d8- I prefer to think of myself as alacritous. A virtuoso of precision, celerity, and dexterity. Agility? What a lame name for a great stat.

VGR   d6- Obviously I'm hearty. You don't earn the nickname Casanova of Cold Soles without jumping out of a few windows and falling through the ice while I was on mission in the human "city" of Vlaidvostok. What a shit hole. It's not like we were on an iceberg. No wait- we were. We were staying on a fucking iceberg. Long story short - I jumped out of a bunch of windows nailing my way across that shitty port town. Fell through the ice a couple times, got some hypothermia, but hey, still got all ten toes. Being truthful, I don't have the greatest circulation anymore. I actually wear a shoe size larger than my feet to allow for double socks. Warm feet are the key to my deceptive aresenal of deceit. Because you can't lie with cold feet.

SMA d6- You weren't expecting that, were you? No, I'm not just a pretty face (but to be clear- I'm a very pretty face), and you should feel ashamed for your preconceived notions that this perfectly chiseled creature couldn't also be smart. Douche.

SPR d6- I honestly attribute this to the amount of drinking I've done. The amount of wine I've put in my body in the past year alone would be enough to preserve an entire stock of beef for a whole winter. Of course, then you're eating coldburned, salted, wine soaked beef, which is why you're not as soulful as I am.

Skills- Like asking an artist to explain the color he paints best with, the list below is a subjective list of what math nerds might call my ability to perform a task. Perform a task. Who talks like that. People who like skill lists. Whatever, here are a few of the many things I'm probably better at than you.


Fighting- d8 (3 points)
Guts= d6 (2 points)
Intimidation- d6 (2 points)
Knowledge (Court Dance and Procedure)- d10  (6 points)
Lockpicking- d6 (2 points)
Persuasion- d8 (4 points)
Streetwise- d8 (4 points)
Throwing- d12 (7 points)

Hindrance- All Thumbs (minor).
Enemy (major)- Fuck Puck.
Stubborn (minor). Because I'm right and YOU'RE wrong.

Edges
Two Fisted- More than just a sex act your mother won't admit to you she enjoys. Trust me. She does.
SnakeOil Salesmen(+2 Persuasion/Streetwise)- Really? Like I even need to explain why this applies.

Gear
Slightly Darker Black Leather Armor
Throwing Daggers
GM Approved means of communicating with Fey Council
A serviceable amount of Fey Ice Wine (4 casks)
Bedroll
Various outfits (to be described as dramatic flair in game) of fashion/style of no benefit other than character aesthetic. Thinking like suits and shirts and stuff.