Freedom.

A word long since forgotten by you but the concept, the idea, never left.

You stand still, not yet taking in your surroundings, having just stepped through the Briar that separates Arcadia, the Feywild, from the mortal realm, your home.

Your mind fumbles to remember the name for this feeling. You're pretty sure that it starts with an "F" but you can't seem to recall it.

Stepping through the Briar, the barrier that separates the mortal world from the Fey lands, has a way of messing with your mind. You can't even seem to recall how you escaped, only that you did and you have never felt relief like you do in this moment in all your days.

What is that fucking word? Fiefdom? No.

Dismissing your attempts at remembering the word had finally drawn your attention to where you are. Nothing could have surprised you more than where you stand.

It is a strange booth of some kind with a weird bowl big enough to sit on. Your memory tells you that this is its purpose but you don't remember what the purpose is.

BATHROOM!

STALL!

The words flood back into your mind and you remember. You're in a stall in a bathroom. The walls of the stall are covered in various telephone numbers, vulgar obscenities, and graphics. So, not even a nice bathroom stall...

You listen closely for sounds of anyone nearby, but there are none.

Cautiously, you pull the stall door open to reveal an ill kept public restroom. The fluorescent bulbs overhead flicker, threatening to quit their function at any time. The dull blue tiles that coat the floor are cracked in various places. The mirrors have the same sort of decoration that the walls of the stall posessed.

MIRROR!

You have no idea how long it has been since you have seen your own reflection, your own form. You wonder how you have aged, what your looks like, and if you will even like what you see.

Struggling to pull what you looked like before your abduction from your memory, you rush to a sink and lock eyes with your self...

Looking back at you is not a woman but an alien, a creature.

Your form is vaguely humanoid and feminine but your skin in clear and translucent with small hints at color throughout, like strange glass or a soap bubble. Underneath your skin is not blood, meat, and bones, but swirling grey blue smoke. The smoke dances playfully inside of you, creating rippling waves.

This...cannot...be...

Who is this creature?
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:06, Sat 26 Mar 2022.

I raise my hand up to my face but my hand goes through it.  I feel like I should scream. Can I scream? I’ve been forced to be silent for so long I don’t think I can remember to form sounds, let alone a scream. I look back at myself. My eyes are pale violet. They didn’t use to be. They were brown. The smoke seems to shift and my eyes move to its constant moving. Smoke tumbling in translucent body. I raise my hand  closer to my face. I can move it just like a normal hand. Light reflects off the translucent shell and creates a quick rainbow then it is gone. The smoke stills swirls and I am forced back into memories of endless hours spend trapped swirling for Them I pinch my eyes shut and force the memories away. I lean back to the mirror and focus on touching my face. Twice I fail, but the third time I manage to run my fingertips along the shell. Smooth and cold. Is this what normal people feel like to? I can’t remember the last time I touched someone.

A noise snaps me out of my Revere and I look up. The bathroom door opens. I glance around, panicked. There are only two stalls in this shit bathroom. I lunged into the largest and slam the door. Two girls step in chatting with each other.

“And then he didn’t even call me back.” This woman made a disgruntled sound. Their footsteps clicking loudly across the tile then they stopped.

A moment of silence before the other responded in a much higher pitch. “Ew, this place is nasty.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the first woman said. “I gotta go and there isn’t anywhere else.”

The stall conceals you from the two women, but you can already sense that they are going to choose your stall to open first. You reach up to wipe sweat from your forehead out of habit only to remember that your body no longer creates sweat.

The sound of footsteps echoes throughout the bathroom. It grows louder with each step, your fear inspired senses enhancing the sound...

You suddenly remember that you have not locked the stall!

Instinct drives you to reach out for the sliding bar only to find that the door has been ripped off by someone. You watch in horror as the door begins to open...

However, something catches your eye in the midst of your panic.

Your hand is rippling. Its colors changing. It now has skin. It looks like a human hand! Your old hand! Distracted as you are by this, you barely feel the stall door bump into you. The woman quickly apologizes before shutting the door and moving on to the next stall. You look down at the rest of you and realize the change is total. You are even wearing your favorite outfit. How did that happen?

The door to the bathroom sounds once again as it is opened. You hear a masculine voice speaking from the entry with an apologetic tone.

"Sorry, ladies. I'm about to shut the water off for some plumbing work. Please finish your business so I can get to work."

You hear the two women curse and complain under their breath before gathering themselves and heading out the door. You peer outside of the stall and catch a glimpse of the owner of the masculine voice as the women are exiting...

It's an otter.



A burly six foot humanoid otter wearing very nice clothing and smoking a cigarette. He has one milky eye, like he's been wounded in a knife fight or something. Even more shocking is the fact that the women walked right past him like he was not a big otter man and was just a plumber come to do his work.

The otter man waits a moment after the women have passed before stepping into the bathroom.

"I know you're here. I'm not going to hurt you. As you have probably seen for yourself by now, I'm Otherside. You can call me Scuttler. I'm a Changeling, just like you. I escaped Arcadia through the Briar Patch, just like you. Come out and talk?"

I pull the door towards me . My eyes glue to my hand which is no longer translucent or Smokey, but normal. I stare a little too long wanting to run to the mirror again to see my face but I hold back. The Otter man is still in front of me waiting patiently. I step from the door but stay back. Can I talk? Better not try yet. I gesture around the dirty bathroom and then to the otter and then to myself and look at him expectantly.

Scuttler looks at you quizzically for a moment, his little ears perked up, before realization dawns.

"You want to know what's going on? I'm not much of a talker but I'll do me best. See, like I said, you busted out of Arcadia somehow or someone helped you to escape. I don't know which. Briar literally rips the memories out of you. I been here 12 years and I still don't remember how I got out. More to the point..."

He finishes his cigarette and grinds it out with his heel after letting it fall onto the floor.

"The gentry, the Fey monsters that took you in the first place and turned you into a smoke bubble for the shits and grins of it, they don't like to lose...ever. They really don't like it when their possessions, which is what they see us as, run away. They're looking for you right now. They're still looking for me and they even found me one time."

Scuttler gestures to his milky eye.

"We survive by hiding among the mortals, the people like how we used to be. We can put up a glamour, kinda like an illusion, around us that makes us not look...how we look. You must have figured that out yourself already. Good going. Took me months to get the hang of that."

He produces a fancy golden cigarette case with an equally fancy gold plated Zippo lighter and lights a fresh cigarette. Scuttler leans on the door to the bathroom.

"Well, the Gentry is far more powerful than us Changelings. They got old magic and lots of it. They're like gods but they don't like leaving their mansions to go look for us. So, they send agents to track us and drag us kicking and screaming back. Don't let that happen, kiddo. Only one Changeling ever got out twice and they are looking for him the hardest, has to live like a monk all by himself to avoid any chance of getting caught again."

He shifts his weight and clears his throat before continuing.

"There's a kind of Underground Railroad of Changelings. I'm a member. When I first popped over, I was on a mountain in Montana. They found me, took me in, taught me how to survive. They got seers and people tied into the Ley lines that find newbies like yourself. Then someone like me gets sent out to help you out. We do it to pay it forward. I got helped and, in return, I help freshies like you out. I'm gonna help you get set up with a new identity and a place to live while you get your legs underneath you. Teach you the Otherside and all the dangers. Basics and such."

Scuttler clears his throat again.

"Haven't talked this much in a fucking year at least. Lemme hear from you now."

My heart is racing at his words. I got out. I escaped. I try to press my brain for details but there is nothing. But they will search for me. They will come for me. If he is right about one thing it is that they don’t like losing their things. But what does that mean for me? I look down at myself. I’m wearing basic pants and a tunic but they are torn and stained. My feet are bare and covered in mud and grass.  I don’t remember anything but I must’ve been outside somewhere. My stomach growls. Somewhere for awhile, I guess. I need to clean myself up and get some food. I make a mental note but then remember I don’t have a clue where I am. I look at guy who called himself Scuttler l. Do I follow this guy? I don’t even know him. He seems nice enough, but then again so did the Fey when you first met them. I glanced around. There isn’t any other way out but the door he is currently in front of. I guess I could play along and leave at the first chance I get. I shift on my heels and look back to him. He is still looking at me expectantly. Oh. He wants me to talk. Shit. Okay, let’s see where this goes…

Fo.. My voice is a choked whisper. I clear my throat and try again. Food, please.

"Oh. Right. That. You can still eat but it don't feed you no more. You got to live on Essence now. Feywild corrupted us too much and now we gotta have it to stay alive just like they do."

A long sigh and a big puff of smoke fills the air of the bathroom from Scuttler's lungs.

"Two ways you can get it. I'll show you how later. One, you can Dreamwalk. It's where you enter a normie's dreams while they sleep and you feed off of their Essence while they sleep. Don't worry. It don't hurt 'em none. When they dream, they generate an excess that we can take right off the top without them any the wiser. You can even manipulate their dreams to heighten their emotions, make more Essence to draw from. Gotta be careful though. You make too much noise while you're in a dream, get the person too riled up, and those agents I told you about will know. They'll hop right in that dream with you and tear your whereabouts right outta your skull."

Scuttler slighgtly shakes his head with dissaproval as he discusses the next topic.

"Then there's the other way. You can make contracts with mortals, just like the Gentry do. You give a mortal your word and a bond is formed. It's a kind of magic. You promise them something and when you fulfill your end a big ol' pile of essence comes from the magic of keeping your word and honoring a deal. Sounds sweet, right? Here's the catch. If you make a deal and break your word, the magic backfires. You get the Essence ripped right out of you and a lot of it. It'll straight up kill you if it happens too many times. Trust me, it ain't pretty. I try to stay away from deals for just that reason but I've had to make one or two before."

My eyes widen but my fists clench. Those ass hairs! I will spend the rest of my life trying to make them pay for ruining my life. My life. I mean, it is mine now. I look around the dirty bathroom and realize this is the most freedom I’ve had in a long while. Suddenly the bathroom doesn’t look all that bad. But what now? All this freedom and I don’t even know he first thing to do with it. My choices have always been made for me and now that I get the chance to pick, I am left wondering how to even choose. I look at Scuttler. He seems to have done well for himself. He seems to be trying to help people like him, people like me. No one should ever have to held against their will, locked in a state of misery for their damn life. I refuse to go back to that. But then…

What now?

"Come on. Let's take a ride. Keep your head down and don't talk to anybody until we get to my ride."

Scuttler grinds his cigarette under his heel and holds the door open for you. You step out into the world again for the first time in a long time. You remember the warmth of the sun in the blue sky, the gentle tickling of the wind, and the green of the grass.

Unfortunately, the sky is clouded over and grey, the wind is too strong and bitter cold, and the green of the grass is covered over with the white of winter.

You seem to be at a gas station. You can see the cars pulling in and out from the pumps and the nearby highway. Scuttler leads you to a long white limousine and ushers you into the back before joining you.

"Take us into the city." he says to the driver before rolling up the dividing window.

The limousine itself is nice but ostentatious. There's lots of little strobing lights that alternate in color every 30 seconds or so. It looks like one of those party limousines that get rented for bachelor and bachelorette parties.

"It's a rental." Scuttler says after noticing you appraising the interior.

"I'm gonna take you to a friend of mine's. She's good people and she'll help look after you until I get back. There's been some Sewer Rats and Demon Bikers trying to muscle me out of my operation. And yes, I'm aware of how fucking crazy of a statement that is. Such is life in the big city."

You see a passing sign letting you know exactly where you are headed.


This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:55, Mon 04 Apr 2022.

I watch the world pass as I stare at the window. It looks desolate. My memories of this place are of color but it looks like everything around me has been drained of color. Condensation clings to the window and I draw abstract shapes in it with my fingers. I don’t look at Scuttler but I try to get answers from him.

Who is this friend? How did you know I was in the bathroom? Why.. why does everything look so different?