"Dwarfshit."

He'd been running for so long, always one step ahead of his pursuers, that he had to actually reach out, pricking his hand on one of the wickedly sharp thorns of the hedge wall before he could grasp the simple truth of the matter. He'd been herded, run into a trap. The damp fog that surrounded the goblin muffled sound, turning the lighter footfalls of the leading pursuers into skittering, stutter-stop thwacks in the wet loam of the Faerie ground, punctuated by the heavy thuds of two massive creatures, marching in lockstep. Spindlewerk knew them in the back of his mind that he was dead.

The hounds came into view first, surging forward and stopping, their spider legs carrying the sleek greyhound bodies forward. Arrayed in a line across the gap they simply waited, silent and still, sentinels, their cold, dead eyes the only movement as they tracked every small shift the goblin made. The heavy footfalls grew steadily closer, a countdown to unthinkable pain, until the Ogres resolved themselves from vague suggestions in the fog into towering monstrosities of moss covered flesh, their clubs made from the femurs of some fallen enemy resting easily against their shoulders.

"Last chance, little nightmare." The one on the left spoke, an avalanche crashing down the mountainside. "Tell us, tell us where your people hid it." His companion unlimbers his massive club, taking a few experimental swings with it, the slow woosh of the femur freezing the goblin's bowels, locking his throat against all sound. The moment stretches on.

"Have it your way." The upward strike of the club sends Spindlewerk flying through the air, spiraling into the eagerly waiting hedge wall. Some detached part of his mind can only take stock of the thorns holding him in place, jutting out from his collar bone, stomach, and leg while the rest of him finally starts talking, a stream of meaningless words and sounds, begging, pleading. "Box him." Is the only response from the Ogre.

The last sight of the goblin's life is a dwarf running up and cackling madly as he places a box on the ground before him. Time seems to slow around Spindlewerk, he can feel his heart's last exhausted contraction, forcing blood through him and out the gaping holes in him. And then his heart beats one last time. And then his heart beats one last time. And then his heart...


***************************************************************

"If it isn't returned in ten days, there will be open war." The thin voice projects from the wisp, hanging in the air over the goblin's head. "You have nine before the Court sends the Lady Swan your heads in a gift basket." The scintillating colors distract, almost hypnotize the watcher in the darkened corner of the subterranean amphitheater. "Are We clear?" When no answer is forthcoming, a distortion ripples through the air, picking up the goblin and slamming her into the far wall, holding her there. "We asked you," The will o' the wisp's colors darkening to a blood red, "if We had made Ourself clear. The Summer Court is already moving on Our holdings on a number of fronts in Faerie. The time We gave you, was how long until they begin to hunt any and all of Our subjects openly."

The Goblin coughs and wheezes a few times before nodding. "I understand, my Lord." She manages to choke out before the invisible hand is released, dropping her unceremoniously on the floor. The stranger in the corner makes as if he is about to move before she makes a subtle gesture, causing the stranger to stop before he would move, shaking his head as it's wreathed by smoke.

"We are glad that We are understood." The Fae Lord begins his slow exit of the room before stopping, his colors shifting to cool blues and grays. "We would be remiss if We did not inform you, Spindlewerk's body was delivered to Our holdings this morning. He has been Boxed." As the Lord exits the workshop, fading into the Faerie, the goblin woman crumples into herself, sobbing.

The stranger waits in the shadows, marveling at the cruelty of Winter's lord, back to the grieving goblin, allowing her a semblance of privacy for her grief. Minutes roll by, thoughts and plans form and are discarded, until finally the goblin's voice calls out to him, raw but controlled. "You're the help Corin said she would send then?" The stranger turns about, and walks into the sodium light.

"I am." The man's voice is tight, his anger over the scene that had played out before him still burning. He breaths out, more smoke ringing his head. "Before anything else, just let me say that I am sorry for your loss, Shamwerk."

"Words are dwarfshit, dragonborn." The goblin spits the words out. "Show me your condolences by bringing me whoever Boxed my husband so that I can eat their heart." The goblin stands, brushing off her clothes. Her face has hardened down into a hate-filled scowl.

"Fair enough." The man replies. "If you'll just let me make a call..."


***************************************************************

The phone rings in the other room and it’s a mad dash, a stumbling scramble around a pile of baby things to get to the kitchen where the cell rests before the call goes to voicemail, ultimately a failure. Eyeing the unfamiliar number suspiciously, she palms the phone as she walks back to the other room, smiling tenderly at the sleeping child. A tone for voicemail and the phone is open… and there’s the voice of a friend gone these past months, faint and exhausted.

“Marra, please, get anyone who can come, I need your help…”

THE WORLD
Modern urban fantasy. Most humans don’t know about the supernatural; you do. You may be of a supernatural race, or possess some kind of magical or supernatural skill, or some other reason.

THE RACES
Witches -  While not a race in their own, they’re a distinct enough group that they bear mentioning. Witches can come from human or lycanthrope stock. In general, humans are more powerful at directly channeling magic itself, but lycanthropes have physical prowess that makes up for their weaker magics. Most witches pick a specific focus when they start practicing, such as an element they are strong in, or an animal totem they identify with. Many witches consider their craft to be spiritual or religious in nature- tapping into a natural divine power- but some simply use it as a tool, like science.

Lycanthropes – Lycanthropy is a magical disease that can be spread through bite, though not everyone who ever gets bitten contracts the disease. Lycanthropy can also be passed on genetically when a lycanthrope breeds either with another lycan or a human. (Most human mothers do not survive carrying a lycanthrope child to term, however.) There are numerous types of lycanthrope, the most numerous of which are the werewolves. Most predator-type lycans look down on the prey-types (like swan shifters) as being weak. Predators usually call themselves were-animals, prey-types go by shifter. Many Weres are part of a pack, and the packs are almost never mixed-animal. There are solitary lycans of all types however.

Faerie – The fae are mysterious and whimsical, and prone to disguising themselves and mingling with the humans. They follow two courts: the Seleigh and Unseleigh, or Light and Dark courts. Some places call them the Gold and Silver courts as well. In general, the Seleigh courts are more benevolent, and the Unseleigh are more malicious. They practice their own forms of magic, mostly in the form of charms and hexes- things that play with the mind, as opposed to things that directly harm or heal. There are a lot of part-faeries in the world: they can breed with humans pretty easily.

Demons – This is a catch-all term for all kinds of creatures from the various darker dimensions that exist alongside our own. Almost all demons are evil- they’re also usually pretty ugly in appearance and find it difficult to blend in with the humans even if they’re not total jerks. Some types of demons can breed with humans, though human women have difficulty bearing them.

Vampires – Vampires are created by other vampires by draining a human near to death and then forcing vampire blood into them. They have the usual weakness to sunlight- younger vampires can stay awake in the daytime as long as they avoid the direct burning sunlight, but older, more powerful vampires fall into a deep torpor during daylight hours. They make up for it by being ridiculously strong, fast, and vicious. Vampires are also repulsed and annoyed by garlic, and silver and holy symbols of the major religions (crosses, etc) burn them. They can heal almost anything by drinking human blood (lycan blood tastes nasty, faerie blood gets them drunk, and demon blood isn’t digestible). Witch blood is especially delicious, it gives them a druggie boost.

Dragons – A few centuries ago, dragons used to walk the world and do their hoard-collecting thing, but today they’re mostly extinct. Some types of dragons had the ability to take human form and cross-breed, and their descendants tend to be pretty hardy folk with a tendency towards collecting wealth.

Other races – I’ll add these as we go if people want to suggest races.

THE TEAM
The team is comprised in part of a group of friends/associates from the Boston area’s supernatural community. A number of us have worked together in the past, dealing with the rogue vampire infestation of several years ago, the demon incident of roughly a year ago, or the events of The Wolf Princess, several months past. New players can be connected to this group somehow (to be worked out between individuals. You don’t have to have known the group for that long, but it’d be nice to throw in some flavor that we could build off to define our relationships to each other.), or can come up with some reason to be arriving at the doorstep in Chicago, ready to pitch in on stopping the coming war between the courts.

THE MISSION
Roughly a month ago Othale, the Lady Swan and possibly the highest ranking noble of the Seleigh court of the fae in the Chicago area, claimed that a prized possession of hers had been stolen. In a rare moment of cooperation between the courts in the area, a local commune of goblins, members of the Unseleigh court, were commissioned to create a work for her. During the installation of the project in her abode, a hart, the pride of her menagerie, supposedly went missing. She, of course, blamed the goblins who to this day are protesting their innocence. Elden o’ the Wisps, the Warlord the Unseleigh tend to band together behind, has grown short of patience; his holdings in Faerie have been under attack by Summer agents.

An ultimatum has been delivered; the goblins have just over a week to return the stolen property before an open bounty will be placed on any member of the Winter fae, a conflict that will almost assuredly spill out into the human realm. This has put the goblins between a rock and a hard place, if the hart is not found; Elden plans to slaughter them himself in an attempt to advert war. Favors have been called in, and anyone who answers the call has a little less then a week now to solve the puzzle.

The game will open with the Boston contingent arriving at a safe house on the outskirts of the city of Chicago, with anyone who wishes to be from the city free to arrive at any time.

GAMEPLAY
This is only a game in the loosest sense of the word. There are character sheets, levels, powers, and characters need the GM to sign off on them (in this instance the GM approving things is Z, it’s her world, she’s just loaning it to me for a while), but this is, at its heart, less of a game and more of an exercise in cooperative storytelling. We each take our little corner of the world and weave them together into something far greater then any of us could accomplish individually. While I am GMing this chapter, all that really means is that I have an idea about the general plot (discover what happened, avert war), will be piloting a few of the major NPCs, setting up some of the set pieces, and will occasionally try to poke things in a direction resembling story progression. One of the things that was absolutely amazing about The Wolf Princess was the degree in which the story was influenced by the decisions of the players as the story progressed. If you have an idea for a cool scene or an interesting direction for the plot to go, speak up, make it happen, we’re all trying to work together to make this an incredible experience for everyone involved.

All this said, there are two rules to be followed to make this an enjoyable experience.

Have No Pride.

Don't fall in love with your own personal mental image of how a scene should turn out. We're all writing pieces of this, and maybe someone else is just going to do it differently. You'll get your shot, and we'll all have fun.

Be Respectful.

We all want our characters to be "cool". Well, probably many of us do. Okay, let me revise that, we all want to present our characters in a certain way. Many of us will want to look cool, or mystical, or tough, or goofy, or whatever. Keep that in mind when you write a scene piece incorporating your interactions with someone else. Your character can have their opinions about everyone else, and they really should, you know?- but you as a writer should respect everyone else's core concept.

This particular game will have much more to do with Faerie then The Wolf Princess did, a more in-depth explanation of Faerie is warranted.


FAE EXPANDED
The fae are mysterious entities, having their own agendas and motives that may or may not be comprehensible to the rest of the world. The fae are divided into two courts, the Seleigh and Unseleigh (or Summer and Winter, Gold and Silver, etc) which generally gives one an idea of what to expect from a particular fae. The Summer court is very formal and very proud, possessing a noble system of rank and title, with Lords and Knights- faerie and mortal- and with all Seleigh owing fealty to one Queen (there have been Kings as well, for now it’s a Queen though). The Seleigh court generally is aloof, if one of their Knights (either mortal or fae) is involved in a conflict it is usually the result of meddling on the part of the Unseleigh. It is not wise to assume that just because they oppose Winter’s machinations in the world of mortals that the Seleigh particularly care about the mortal world; the general feeling in the Seleigh courts is that mortals may look to their own for protection from other sources of misery in life, vampires, demons, and the like.

The Unseleigh are night to the Seleigh’s day. Highly individualistic, half wild, and owing no other being their loyalty, they delight in tricking and seducing mortals despite the danger of exposure inherent in those activities. There is no particular system of organization to the Winter court in any given area, they’ll band together as needed, perhaps under some self-styled Warlord, whenever Summer starts getting too uppity, starts protesting too strongly about the troll a few miles down the road taking a mortal too many, about the wisps leading children off into the woods, about the games played with the all too easily manipulated minds of the local mortals. Winter does have a ruler though; stylized “The Pale Queen”, she is a fae of sufficient power and connections to force even the most anarchistic of the Unseleigh into line. A number of powerful warlords owe her favors and pacts; and thus she remains in power.

Fae of either court do share some similarities, however. A promise given is a nigh unbreakable bond, for both parties; for this reason they’re incredibly careful on how promises given are worded. Additionally, iron is incredibly inimical to them, blocking their powers and burning a fae struck with it. As human society has advanced, an interesting phenomenon has occurred with regards to this vulnerability to iron. The realm of Faerie is vast, perhaps incomprehensibly so, encompassing the entirety of earth and potentially stretching to border realms beyond. As human society has advanced, the use of iron has grown more prevalent in human cities. At this point, the areas of Faerie that correspond to human settlements are warped by the iron, twisted and corroded and strange. The only places spared this are parks, public gardens and the like, areas where the encroaching society has been pushed back, even a little.

Orenithaz "Oren" West 

Race: Dragonblooded

Level: 3

Appearance: Standing at 6' 1" and with a solid build, Oren is a bit of a sore thumb amongst his taller, willowier sisters and brother. Shaggy, light brown hair frames a severe, hatchet face, creased with lines from forcing a smile far too often. His glasses are an affection, as is the pipe he carries constantly, though that is more of social need then any other. He appears to be in his mid twenties, though his actual age is nearly a decade greater; like all dragon-blooded in his family, his physical aging has slowed to a crawl at this point. He appears to be caucasian with a light tan, there's no way the slight bronzing to his skin could be otherwise. Most commonly  wears a comfortable sweater and jeans, though even in inclimate weather he carries a long coat.

Personality: The events of the year thus far have changed Oren. Previously he was content to simply let the world move around him, an outside observer. The kidnapping of Jessica Worthington and the subsequent destruction of his home awoke something in him. He has come to realize that he can no longer stand idly by, ignoring the plight of those whom he can help. There's a confidence about him now that was never there before, but a previously unseen warmth too. He shines like the sun in the presence of his friends, and has lost most of the chill around strangers, though he still tends to be overly formal.

Powers:
Pure Blood: While most dragon-blooded can assume some degree of their ancestor's qualities, it's rarely more then a single aspect. Scales to provide armor. Prodigious strength. Fiery breath. Maybe his father was also descended from dragon stock. Maybe his mother made a deal with foreign powers on behalf of her final child. Maybe he just got lucky, but whatever the reason, Oren has it all, the full package. With a little focus he is able to assume the form of his ancestors for a short while, with all the benefits that come along with it. It is now known in the Boston area that there is a dragon-blood who can assume his ancestral form.

Perfect Memory: The stories about dragons being fonts of knowledge may not have been too far from the truth. Oren realized very young that if he read something, he could recall it perfectly. As such, he's been reading anything he could get his hands on since then.

Heart of the Sun: With a little experimental surgery at the hands of the goblin Bogwizzle, Oren has developed a magical connection to the Sun.
*Nourish: Oren draws upon and stores the energies of the sun by spending time in sunlight. This removes the Winded penalty, as well as allowing him to boost his normal metabolism and general reserves of energy slightly. It is possible to overtax this ability, it ceases to function if he goes for too many days without exposure to direct sunlight.
*Flare: Oren is able to call upon the sun, producing fire within close proximity to himself that both burns as normal fire and shines as sunlight. Generating this fire is somewhat tiring to Oren, if he has been relying on Nourish to power his transformations recently, this will leave him weak and weary.
Penalties:
Wyrmsign: Oren's thicker blood is both a blessing and a curse. While not shifted he has to be careful to reign in his emotions, as his breath starts to come out as thick, sluggish tendrils of smoke whenever he gets excited for any reason. He often pretends to be smoking a pipe if he cannot retain sufficient control over himself.

Winded: Assuming his dragon form takes a tremendous amount of energy from Oren. If he is well rested and full this doesn't pose an immediate problem, however if he isn't, then he must nearly gorge himself either while in dragon form, or immediately after returning to his human shape to regain the energy or else he drops into a near-coma that may last for days, depending on how badly he exerted himself while veered. Assuming optimal conditions, he absolutely refuses to change from human to dragon more then once in a 12 hour period for fear of the strain rendering him incapable of even moving once he's changed, though if the lives of him or his companions depended on it, he might be willing to try. Nourish removes this penalty

Blood Feude: Claude Entremont: At his final encounter with the vampire Lord of Boston, Oren declared war on Claude Entremont for the lack of remorse or attempts at reparations for the abuses he and his friends had suffered, as well as the potential damage to the community at large. The opening salvos have been launched, consisting of a financial attack on Entremont's holdings, as well as alerting the very irate Matron of a pack of hellhounds as to the location of the vampire's base of operations.

History: There be Dragons Here.


Since the events of The Wolf Princess: Oren walked out of Marra's house one morning in January and into the wide world at large, telling no one the specifics of his journey. He left behind a way to be contacted if he was desperately needed, but no one has heard from him in mont... hey, did the phone just ring?
 
Approved: Z-RE-STAMP'D!!

Medvedev Igor Igorivich
A.K.A. Bear

Race: Igor is a Were-Bear. Specifically, he assumes the form of an asian black bear. If there even is a local pack, Igor doesn't know about it. He hasn't seen the bear who turned him since the day after he was turned, and he's perfectly fine with that. Igor has now joined the local werewolf pack. You know, the one with the funny name. No not the one Jacob is in, the other one with the funny name, headed by Worthington. -That's the Wiyon Kutomá, or "Moon Singers".

Level: 2

Appearance: Igor is an unassuming and tiny Siberian man while not in his bear form. He always carries a backpack full of extra clothes. Because he goes through so much clothing, everything he wears is of the thrift store variety. Igor can now retain clothing while shifting.
While in bear form, he is seven and a half feet tall and weighs 600 pounds. He has a shiny black coat with a patch of white across his chest.

Personality: Despite his poor English, Igor bullishly stands up for all little guys. He is always ready to defend those who can't defend themselves. He backs down from nothing once his mind is made up. Igor is not the smartest guy (especially in bear form), but he makes up for it with his kindness and general concern for others.

Powers
Bear Form- Igor can assume the form of an asian black bear almost at will. The exception being when he is fatigued from recent transformation.
Level up
Igor can now shift quicker and slightly more often. Also, due to Jasmine's tutelage, he can now half shift, but he's not very good at it.

Limited Communication with Bears- Igor is unlikely to convince a bear to fight for a cause but can probably convince the bear not to attack him or his friends. This is not mind control and bears have little ability to process thoughts beyond survival and reproduction.

Intimidating Growl- In either his human, or his bear form, Igor can attempt to intimidate or otherwise frighten anyone within the sound of his voice with a deep throaty growl. This is more likely to work in bear form as the bear form is also intimidating in appearance.

Pack Member (new this level)
Igor is now a member of Worthington's pack. With membership, he may be entitled to pack support in some fights. He is also learning some basic lycan tricks like shifting without tearing clothes and half-shifting.

Pack Sense (new this level)
Now that Igor has joined a pack, he shares a limited emphatic, not quite telepathic link to nearby pack members. This link is strengthened if he or those he is sharing the link with are in lycan form. It is further strengthened if all involved are in lycan form. This sense is new to Igor and he is inept at interpreting the signals he receives, especially from Jasmine, as she is an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

Weaknesses
Bear Intelligence- While in bear form, Igor retains a knowledge of his likes, dislikes, friends, and enemies but loses much of his human rationality. He doesn't lose all his intelligence. He still is...um... smarter than the average bear. He isn't the smartest guy while in human form either.

Feeble Frame- Igor's human form is puny and fragile. In case of surprise attack or any other situation in which Igor must defend himself as a human, he is extremely vulnerable until he can shift forms.

Enemy of Crime (new this level)
Igor's nighttime crime fighting activities are beginning to get noticed by angry and dangerous people in high places. Local police have been told to be on the lookout for a vigilante though they have few clues to his actual identity. The underworld has a better grasp on the situation, especially those with a knowledge of the unnatural. When recognized, a criminal tends to attack, or call for backup. There may or may not be a small bounty on his head. Igor, of course, is thrilled about this.

History



Approved: Z-STAMP'D!

Goblins and dwarves are subsets of Fae, Colesla, but I'll toss out some general info on them.

Dwarves tend to be associated with the Seleigh court, the prestige that comes hand in hand with the noble structure of the court fits well with their clan organization. They're incredible craftsmen and artisans, and can incorporate magic into objects like no one's business. They tend to be fairly taciturn to anyone they don't know well, and there's an almost pathological hatred for goblins.

Goblins are tiny, erratic, and vicious, mostly owing what loyalty they can give to the Unseleigh court. They tend to be utter geniuses with mechanical contraptions and rarely bother to even guard their secrets, very few beings besides another goblin could understand, let alone replicate their technology. They love challenges and casually disregard any potential disaster their machines could cause. They've a pathological hatred of dwarves, seeing them as incompetants who cannot build anything without cheating by using magic.

Ok, I'll give that its an interesting character and all but what about Jacob Hamilton? He was awesome. Are you abandoning him?

Good. I'd hate to see him go or his feud with Jericho and Muckrock.

Name: Marra

Race: Human moon-witch

Level: 3

Appearance: Marra is a tall human woman with long hair usually tucked into a bun- hair that was until recently a vivid red, but is now a pure shiny white. She appears to be in her mid-twenties, but it’s hard to pin down anything more specific than that from just looking. Most people think she's older, because of the hair; and there’s a certain timelessness to her features, a reserve and aloofness that comes across very palpably.

Her right leg is badly scarred- thick scar tissue around the knee and thigh area from an incident with a demon. She toughs through it most of the time, but every couple months it flares up and she will limp for a few days until it recedes. Not many people know about this though- she keeps it covered most of the time.

Personality: Ice-cold and professional to those who don’t know her well, Marra actually cares deeply about those she considers her friends. She’s very reserved with her affection, but those who know her realize this means when she chooses to give a hug or smile it means a lot more than otherwise. For the most part, though, she’s very closed-off and respectable.

She's learned to relax and unbend a little in the last few months, especially with baby Selenay to deal with- see Wolf Princess for details on Selenay's "birth".

Powers
Cantrips - Your basic level witch powers covering sparkly fireworks, moving light objects, sending whispered words across an open space, basic stuff like that. “Cantrips” is meant to cover any minor thing that doesn’t have world-changing powers, but doesn’t really rate having a power listing of its own.

Moonlight – Marra can channel the moonlight through her body and throw it off, magnified and enhanced. As moonlight is a reflection of sunlight, this can get pretty nasty for vampires- it’s not quite as damaging as sunlight but it repels and burns them. For lycanthropes, this can force them to change form, which is often hilariously disastrous.
* Level Up- The power level of this has been increased; she can do it faster and with less expenditure of energy.
* Level Down- A lot of vampires have heard about this by now. If any of them recognize her they gun for her pretty hard.

Ritual Magic (1) – Given enough time and components, Marra can perform basic seeking and divination type rituals. She's done wards, too, but those tend to be a much more rigorous process since it's not her specialty.

Weaknesses
Wax and Wane – Marra’s powers are tied to the moon. She’s at full power when the moon is full, but when it is new, she is little more than a smart human.
* Level Up - Moon Dark - Marra has learned to tap into the powers of the new moon. Still, she's somewhat tied to them; she's better at doing beneficial rituals like protections during the full moon, better at divination and anything mean during the new moon. Her mood also shifts, dark and light.

History

Wolf Princess: Epilogue

Approved: Z-RE-STAMP!

Shofranka, Bilachengo-Martiya

Race: ostensibly Faefolk, without allegiance

Level: 2

Appearance: Shofranka appears as a normal young Roma man, though his dark skin has a heavy, drained gray pallor to it and his frame is more wiry than any man's ought to be.
His staring eyes, pupil-less white, emit soft glows under low light, a fact that he could hide but that he often does not, and under these eyes he always wears a ghostly smile.
Like most Roma men, Shofranka is dressed simply and functionally, wearing a battered suit-coat over a shirt, jeans and belt, the only exception to this being his hat, a black fedora studded garishly with bone-white pearls, silver rings and a brown quail feather.  Unlike most Roma, however, Shofranka's clothes are entirely without color, and his gray-and-black costuming seems to drain what little color there is left away from his face.

Personality: mischievious is the man known as Shofranka the Bilachengo-Martiya, which translates in Romany into "no-goodnik spirit".  A devil-at-the-crossroads, Shofranka is an equal mix of the heart and knowledge of the guide, the scheming wisdom of the tempter and the gaiety of the trickster.  In addition, he embodies in himself the values of the Roma people: independence, self-reliance, and a deep-rooted identity apart from all that which is non-Roma.

Powers:
Playing the Devil Home- the tradition of the Roma people is one of music, and so Shofranka is able to play a wide variety of instruments, including guitar, flute, double-clarinet, accordion, hand-drum and balalaika.  He is also an accomplished singer.  None, however, can match his skill when he holds a violin, and it is from the violin that he can play tunes that enchant the rapt mind, tempt the unwitting soul, and confuse the unwary body.

Kalo Romungro- like a proper rogue, Shofranka is skilled and deadly in the use of both sword and pistol.  He prefers a sabre.

Romale Hocus Pocus- Shofranka is able to wield a mainstay of Romani culture- the curse.  Misfortune at the gambling table, a tragic death in the family, a love forever unrequited- these things he has all cast upon those who he felt wronged him in the past.  He is also able to perform minor healing rituals that will ease fevers, heal cuts, and take the edge off of diseases.  He is however unable to tell fortunes- a duty and priveledge retained solely by Romani women.
Level 2 Adjustment- Shofranka's healing rituals are, with ongoing practice and the recent resurgence in Romani identity in Europe, become more effective, and can heal some minor injuries completely, while making the those moderate fevers and wounds far more bearable.

'Ere Today, Gone Yesterday- Shofranka can perform a variable vanishing act, in which he makes himself insubstantial.  His body becomes lighter as he becomes more insubstantial, to the point where he is able to move more quickly through space and go about where he wishes the more insubstantial he gets, to the point of near-invisibility. 
However, as his body becomes insubstantial, so too does his ability to interact with his surroundings.  At about half-substantiveness, he has about enough strength to push some papers around.  At near-invisibility, he can push things about as far as a baby breath of air, and is partially deaf and completely mute.

Weaknesses
Two Roma's Don't Make A Right- in Shofranka lives the Roma, his music, his tradition, and even more, his superstition.  As they are considered unclean animals and omens of death in Roma culture, Shofranka is both averse and vulnerable to cats, owls, wolves, and to a lesser degree, dogs.  Cats and owls, especially, are resistant to his magic and can see him while he performs his Vanishing Act. 
Finally, as a spirit, all of Shofranka's magic and influence can be more easily resisted if one carries bread in their pocket.

Who Needs It?- Shofranka can read and write in Romany-Czech and nothing else.  While useful in the Roma-populated Czech Republic, it is far from useful when it comes to helping him read or write English.
Level 2 Adjustment- Times have changed, and the new era has a greater demand for the written word in all aspects of life than ever before.  While the majority of Romale remain completely illiterate, a new push for literacy and education within the Roma communities has allowed Shofranka to pick up a few words here and there.  He can't read the paper but he could get by alright.

Shunt By Fae- What few allegiances Shofranka has had to the varied faerie courts have been at best shaky.  Not for any malice against the Seleigh and Unseleigh Courts is this the case, but rather simply its a case of divergent priorities, as Shofranka would rather stay on the road amongst his people than even give a thought to fae politics.  But lack of allegiance is still lack of allegiance, and as a result, neither court of faeries would ever trust Shofranka as far as they could throw him.

History
In a hut on a mountain, in a fair forest, lived a girl with her four brothers, her father, and her mother.
The sister loved a handsome rich huntsman, who often ranged the forest, but who would never speak to the pretty girl. Mara wept day and night, because the handsome man never came near her.
She often spoke to him, but he never answered, and went on his way.
She sang the song:

'Dear man from a far country,
Slip your hand into mine;
Clasp me, an you will, in your arms;
Lovingly will I kiss you.'

She sang it often and often, but he paid no heed.
Knowing now no other succour, she called the devil.
'O devil, help me.'
The devil came, holding a mirror in his hand, and asked what she wanted. Mara told him her story and bemoaned to him her sorrow.
'If that's all,' said the devil, 'I can help you. I'll give you this. Show it to your beloved, and you'll entice him to you.'
Once again came the huntsman to the forest, and Mara had the mirror in her hand and went to meet him.
When the huntsman saw himself in the mirror, he cried, 'Oh! that's the devil, that is the devil's doing; I see myself.'
And he ran away, and came no more to the forest.

Mara wept now again day and night, for the handsome man never came near her.; Knowing now no other succour for her grief, she called again the devil.
'O devil, help me.'
The devil came and asked what she wanted. Mara told how the huntsman had run away, when he saw himself in the mirror.
The devil laughed and said, 'Let him run, I shall catch him; like you, he belongs to me. For you both have looked in the mirror, and whoso looks in the mirror is mine. And now I will help you, but you must give me your four brothers, or help you I cannot.'

The devil went away and came back at night, when the four brothers slept, and made four strings of them, fiddle-strings--one thicker, then one thinner, the third thinner still, and the thinnest the fourth.
Then said the devil, 'Give me also your father.'
Mara said, 'Good, I give you my father, only you must help me.'
Of the father the devil made a box: that was the fiddle.
Then he said, 'Give me also your mother.'
Mara answered, 'Good, I give you also my mother, only you must help me.'
The devil smiled, and made of the mother a stick, and horsehair of her hair: this was the fiddle-stick.
Then the devil played, and Mara rejoiced. But the devil played on and on, and Mara wept.

Now laughed the devil and said, 'When your beloved comes, play, and you will entice him to you.'
Mara played, and the huntsman heard her playing and came to her.
In nine days came the devil and said, 'Worship me, I am your lord.'
They would not, and the devil carried them off.

The fiddle remained in the forest lying on the ground, and a poor Gypsy came by and saw it.

He played, and as he played in thorp and town they laughed and wept just as he chose.

-"No. 37, the Creation of the Violin", from Gypsy Folk Tales by Frances Hindes Groome, 1899

Association: What reason need a Roma to be anywhere?   Conspicuously missing from Chicago for decades after his last appearance there in a port-side bar in the 40s, he has resurfaced, presumably with a purpose and, as his appearances have coincided with the recent occurences, a purpose presumably related to the faerie courts.

Approved: ZTAMPED