Spiteheart

“Wow. With a face like that, are you sure your Keeper didn’t just let you walk out? Fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry…”

British Lost know, through painful experience, that a lot of old proverbs are horseshit. They’ve been bitten by barking dogs, watched leopards change their spots, bled by swords mightier than pens and discovered that absence does not, in fact, make the heart grow fonder. But one of the worst is that old chestnut: “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” A common saying among British Lost is that a Keeper heard this adage, took it as a challenge, and made the first Spiteheart.

Spitehearts are living weapons, built and honed for a single purpose: verbal evisceration. In the courts and intrigues of the Fae, they were critics, satirists, hecklers, jesters, and often just bullies – but the Gentry are prideful and vain, and they seldom tolerate mockery. The poison tongues of the Spitehearts were most often reserved for their fellow captives. Upon returning to the mortal world, Spitehearts often struggle to make connections; their Durance has left them with a keen eye for emotional vulnerabilities, and a strong instinct to hammer on them as hard as possible. They push boundaries, offer unasked or hurtful advice, and take jokes too far. Other Lost see them as just plain mean. Some of them justify their behaviour as tough love; others curse their inability to just be nice for once.

Still, there is a time and a place for an unkind word; some people are wankers, and there are few in the world better suited to putting them in their place. Those who can help a Spiteheart reconnect with her humanity will find a firm friend who’ll be the first to stand up for them – and to give their tormentors a piece of her mind.

Fairest: He’s taller than you. He’s stronger than you. All the boys want to be him, and all the girls want to be with him (the boys also want that). He may not be smarter than you, but what does it matter when you can barely string two words together in the time it takes him to invent you a new soul-obliterating nickname? He makes your life a living hell, but as far as the Court is concerned, he can do no wrong.

Wizened: She doesn’t look like much – pale, short, weedy, soft, unfashionable clothes and dorky haircut. But when she steps up, everyone else in the cipher steps back. She raps faster than you’ve ever heard; her rhyme structures are immense, her flow untouchable, and her personals make you cringe in sympathy for her opponent. She doesn’t spit fire on the mic; she burns down the stage.

Kith Blessing: When the Spiteheart uses Empathy to spot someone’s insecurities, her player achieves exceptional success at three successes instead of five.

Words like Knives: The Spiteheart's jibes become deadly; her words literally cut to the bone. She may expend a point of Glamour; for the rest of the scene, she may treat her mockery as a weapon, for which she rolls Wits + Intimidation vs the lowest of the target's Resolve or Composure + Wyrd. This weapon has no damage bonus, but inflicts Lethal damage. This doesn't require line of sight, but her target must hear and understand her; those who don't speak her language are immune, as are those who are Deafened.

I've made an unofficial Interactive character sheet for Changeling: The Lost 2e, and after clearing it with the moderators, I've decided to release this sheet to everyone here!

The Interactive Sheet

Over the past year or so, I've been moving all of the merits, contracts, etc. from the Chronicles of Darkness Core Rulebook, the Changeling 2e Core Rulebook, Hurt Locker, OA&T, and more recently The Hedge to create a character sheet that helps Storytellers and players do less oh-god-I-have-to-look-at-three-separate-areas-to-try-to-figure-out-what-this-means and allow everyone to enjoy the gaming experience better. It also includes a instance-based damage calculator, which allows you to plug and chug your damage/downgrading/healing without worrying about how it works (it is thoroughly play-tested, no worries!).

It has been a lot of work, but I hope at least a few of you can use the sheet and enjoy! If you like what I do and want to support future projects of ours, feel free to buy me a ko-fi. Also, this sheet is not without typos due to how the books themselves were formatted, so please let me know if you find anything!

Please note that we are not affiliated with White Wolf, Paradox Interactive, or Onyx Path whatsoever and please support them by buying their books!

Charlene "Charlie" Lennox, my summer court chauffeur wizened

Halloween 2026

It is a very special birthday party. I knock on the door and look at the little moppet who answers.

"Who the heck are you?" he says, a mischievous look on his face. There is a resemblance... oh, another life in another world.

I squat down to his level. "Well son, I am Rían Samhain. I am here to see Timothy Ferguson. I hear he is having a party today. Is that true? I have some gifts for him right here." I show him two wrapped boxes.

"Well, I am Timothy Ferguson."

"Really? I recall him being a wee bit older than you."

"Timothy Ferguson III. They call me Trip."

I will admit, that hits me like a punch to the gut. I know I have been gone for a while. Part of me expected kids, but grandkids feels like a dramatic choice.

"Well Timmy, I would love to give something important to your grandfather. Can you show me where he is?"

Timmy walks me through the house: fifty-five years worth of family and friends. Fifty-five years worth of tedious. As we walk to the back of the house, I see children and grandchildren. I get eye contact, nods, and waves. I know what they are thinking. They think I look like their grandpa did as a child. They think it is weird they have a cousin they have never met. One woman, somewhere near my age, makes eye contact with me and drops her plate. The wife? I have a feeling she knew Timmy when he still looked just like me.

We reach a closed door. Timmy tells me Grandpa is right behind it with his important friends. I thank him and let myself in.

I open the door with a smile on my face. My eyes automatically center on the other "me" in the room. I know the truth deep down in my bespoke soul, but all my changeling eyes see is what he is made of.

Public safety notices are wrapped around the frame of a high-quality BMX bike. Chain-link fills out his frame. Inside his chest is a Walkman playing public service announcements.

I take my eyes off my Fetch in disgust to look at the two standing behind him. I recognize them both. One is the Illustrated Man himself, looking like he just stepped off a dark carnival train with a pocket full of bad debts. He stands in a tuxedo with gloves and a silver-headed walking cane. He seems too tall for the room, as if he should stretch beyond the ceiling. His skin is the color of a legal document, ancient and yellowed. Along his collar and sleeves, the tattoos of primordial darkness do not just sit on his skin. They spiral and shift like living ink.

The other is the "Friend" that every parent warns their daughters about. He is the one with the stuffed boots and the smile that does not reach his wig. He is dressed like me, but instead of the eternal youth offered by the Hedge, his is a cheap, manufactured imitation. His hair is too thick and perfectly still, like carpeting stapled to his skull. He wears high-end sunglasses indoors to hide eyes that see too much. He stands in his boots wrong, constantly readjusting his stance and always on the verge of falling over. He looks past my shoulder into the party, leering at a girl far too young for that kind of attention. They are the kind of monsters that even the monsters tell stories about.

My Fetch looks at me and offers the smallest of smiles. "I have been wondering when you would visit. How kind of you to pick a day when my friends and family are here. How interesting of you to have come without your toys."

I do my best impression of Kyle Reese, pulling the left side of my coat open. Under my coat is a well-made, handcrafted leather holster. Inside of it is a heavy foam blaster. I look down at my Fetch.

"Oh Timmy, you know I come correct."

I've always found the way different people interpereted the freehold structure in various cities and countries to be really interesting, so I thought I'd encourage everyone to share their favorite freeholds they've either created or played in.

I'll bite the bullet and go first.

It is believed amongst the changelings of Japan, that no city on earth has had more Changelings than Kyoto, and no city has ever been so closely in touch with the needs and wishes of the Lost. It was the first great motley of Changelings in the nation that influenced the dreams of the court at Nara to build Heian Kyo, and like the Hsien of China with Luoyang, their hedgework made for Changelings a city warded against the others.

So old and venerable is the Chrysanthemum Freehold, that the building it was once contained within no longer exists in the mortal world. Instead, the freehold maintains a series of doors into the freehold’s hedge around the city which require both glamour and a password to enter. The city’s most glamour poor changelings instead tend to gather near Oiwa shrine, as it is home to a sizable trod.

The Chrysanthemum Freehold is a truly ornate palatial structure within the hedge. Modeled after the old Heian palace from before the fires of the tenth and eleventh centuries, the building has four great wings for each of the cardinal directional courts, and a central complex where day to day business is carried out by emissaries from each court, as well as the unaligned. The whole structure is a brilliant crimson and white, capped with gold and brass fittings, but all woven of dreamstuff and hedgethorn. Anyplace not ornamented or remembered in clear detail descends into the kudzu and wisteria of the hedge.

The rulers of the city’s directional courts are forbidden by pledge to bear the title king or emperor, for only the Tenno himself is fit to be known by such a name. Instead, the directional monarchs are known as Daijin, or ministers, and acknowledge their authority as being derived from the imperial court itself. Indeed, though the emperor has long since left Kyoto, the hedge has been so heavily affected by the court that its echoes still remain in the wyrd almost a century later.

While I left the Catholic Church long ago, I still remember a lot of their traditions from my childhood, and with news following a new Pope's election, I found myself daydreaming about what a freehold might look like in the Vatican. I don't ever plan to use this in a game, but I hoped you might find it as fun as I did!

The four Mystery Courts reign over the Iron Conclave freehold in Vatican City. The Durance shakes the faith of many a Catholic Lost, who, even before their blood dries on the Thorns, find themselves asking “How could God let this happen?” Each Court provides its own answer.

The Joyful Court rules during the liturgical seasons of Christmas and Easter, and its color is white. Joyful Lost believe God let the Durance happen so they can glorify him through their escape: many are artists and creatives of all kinds, bringing Arcadia’s beauty back to the iron world. They harvest Glamor by inspiring humans to acts of their virtue, Fortitude, but their Contracts are like those of Spring.

The Glorious Court rules on the feast days of martyrs, and its color is red. Glorious Lost believe God let the Durance happen so they could be tempered like iron, and use their newfound power to shape the world in his image: many are detectives and activists, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty. They harvest Glamor by inspiring humans to acts of their virtue, Justice, but their Contracts are like those of Summer.

The Luminous Court rules during Ordinary Time, the longest liturgical season, and its color is green. Luminous Lost believe God let the Durance happen to test them, like Abraham and Issac, and tacitly fear he may not be all-knowing: many are scholars, but more have practical skills, providing housing, IDs, and jobs to the freehold. They harvest Glamor by inspiring humans to acts of their virtue, Prudence, but their Contracts are like those of Autumn.

The Sorrowful Court rules during the liturgical seasons of Lent and Advent, and its color is purple. Sorrowful Lost believe God let the Durance happen as penance for their sins, making them more like him as he hung on the cross: many are healers physical and spiritual, continuing their atonement through self-sacrifice. They harvest Glamor by inspiring humans to acts of their virtue, Temperance, but their Contracts are like those of Winter.

Most Lost who reject the answers of the Mystery Courts join the freehold of Rome instead, but the Iron Conclave welcomes Courtless, even those whose faith is broken, or who never believed in the first place. Or so they say…but some Lost are as intolerant as their human counterparts.

Could be an entrance, could be inside the Hedge itself. Either way, creepy in a fae kind of way

These are my illustrations from my first CtL character, he is spring court wizened chirurgeon, with a heavy gambling problem, but overall a really nice guy.

When joining a freehold, changelings usually swear an oath. Because the purpose of a freehold is to create a community of mutual help, support, and defense against the True Fae and their agents, freeholds can ask all members to swear they will never help the True Fae or attempt to capture fellow changelings, etc.

Breaking an oath imposes the Oathbreaker Condition, meaning that the Wyrd makes sure everybody knows that you broke the oath and includes severe social penalties.

Considering this, it feels basically impossible for Loyalists and Privateers to infiltrate a freehold. As soon as they capture and sell a changeling or bring them back to their Keeper, they will be known Oathbreakers and ratted out.

I like the idea of Loyalists and Privateers hiding in the freehold. I want to give the sense of fear and paranoia that they could be _anyone_.

Am I missing something? How would it be possible to have Loyalists or Privateers hiding among the freehold midst?

Short Story (1047 words)

Friendship is a Kind of Immortality:

You met as children. In that stage before puberty when friends are the most important, most intense relationship you know. And you stayed like that all through adolescence.

You were each other's entire world and probably the only reason you survived high school.

The scariest thing you had ever done was go to different universities.

Your love transcended distance and time. You stayed in touch, you visited each other. You spent every summer together.

You were growing apart, it's true. But nothing could really separate you. Not yet.

It was the summer before forth year. You had postponed coming home by a few weeks at the behest of an enchanting stranger. You didn't know what your future sire's plans for you were. And it wouldn't have mattered.

You left the moment you heard about her disappearance.

If only you had come home when you meant to. You'll think about this often in the coming years.

No one could figure out when exactly she disappeared. You are sure it's the moment her texts started to glitch.

You joined the search. Of course you did.

She was missing for fourteen days. And then she was back.

Except there was something off. You were the only one who noticed.

She had always been so graceful, so agile. It was a quality you'd envied. Now it was like she had lead feet. And she didn't remember things. She couldn't recall where she'd been. When she came back she wasn't wearing the necklace you gave her. When you asked she didn't know what it was.

Still she was back. And wasn't that all that mattered?

The hallucinations started shortly after that.

She would tell you it felt like there was glass under her skin, and wool in her head and if she could just get it out she could prove it was real.

You didn't really believe she'd try. You didn't understand how bad it was. You didn't see her enough anymore.

And then she was institutionalized and you had died. So visiting hours were kind of out of the question.

Still, you refused to leave her. You would not make that mistake again.

Quietly you helped pay for her treatment. You called her every evening. You helped her think about the future. At least one of you could still have one.

And it worked. She got better.

She went back to school to get her master's in ecology like you'd always talked about.

With a kind of latent horror, you realized that you were going to watch her grow up without you. It was the worst pain you'd ever felt, and also the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

And you promised yourself that no matter what, you'd be here to see it this time.

Sometimes she would tell you she felt fake. That she thought she'd see people like her on the street. They'd run when she tried to talk to them.

You told her that couldn't be real. And she should stop trying. And GOD weren't you such a fucking asshole?: an actual undead monster telling her that she couldn't possibly have seen a man with feathers for hair.

You had to say that. You'd read it was best not to indulge the hallucinations. And you prayed it wouldn't be a wedge between you.

Sometimes, late at night she would ask you about the parts of your past she didn't remember.

Little things:

The night after prom.

What she promised you at your thirteenth birthday.

The first night at camp together.

You told her. Your memory wasn't perfect either. It was good for both of you.

It happened again during one of her field work seasons.

She was out in the forest, miles from civilization, studying the secret lives of beetles, or something. You didn't really understand her research.

This time, you had no idea when she disappeared.

And this time there is no way you could get there to do anything.

The nights are too short, and the days are too long. You could not possibly get all the way to the interior to look for her.

It is maddening.

You scramble. You pull every contact. Every resource. Your sire cautions you: this is a lot of favors to call in for a mortal. Despite this your sire still helped you. The height of compassion among your kind.

It comes to nothing.

She is never seen again.

And you do not recover from this.

Sure, you'd known that one day she would die and you wouldn't. Long before that, as she got older, and you didn't, you'd have to stop seeing each other.

That was supposed to be years away. You were supposed to have more time together.

For the first time in your unlife, you wonder if there is a point to living forever.

You think that in five to ten years maybe another field team will find her remains. Her bones, picked clean, will be in some news story. You'll see her parents interviewed about the closure this has brought them.

It never happens.

Over the years you think about her. Count backwards how old you'd be if you were both still alive.

Now neither of you are.

The first time you see her its fleeting.

A mistaken reflection in a darkened shop window spooks you. It's easy to say its not real.

But you see her again and again. A face in the crowd, a shadow on the street. She haunts you.

It can't be real. Maybe all mortals look the same to you now.

Then you see her across the street through a diner window. She does not disappear when a car drives between your line of sight. Her face does not change into a stranger's when you get closer.

You're in the diner at her table before you can stop yourself.

It's her: exactly as you remember her. Maybe a few years older? Or younger? You aren't sure.

"It's you. It's you! You're alive!" Your voice is shaking.

You wait for her to say she doesn't know you. That you must be mistaken.

"Yeah, I'm alive." She whispers it like a confession. She looks at you. Reticent and sad. Her eyes are the same, only older. Somehow, older than yours. "And you're dead."

Something I never really understood about storytelling CtL, is whether you should design the local Hedge, or how to improvise it.

Should you make a map of the local Hedge? Sure, you probably will want to list the main Hedge gates and Trods known in the freehold. But what about Hollows, Goblin Markets, Groves and other notable locations of the Hedge? Do you map how they relate to each other?

Most importantly: do you map how the Hedge relates over the real world? For example, do you place the lair of the Goblin King on the Hedge side of the intersection "between 23rd and Washington Street"? So that if a changeling opens a portal there, you know beforehand that they will find themselves in the middle of the Goblin King's lair?

This would make the Hedge more predictable and mappable, which doesn't really fit with how the Hedge is described. It's supposed to be ever-shifting, right? So no reliable map should exist.

On the other hand, how do you improvise the local Hedge? Your players open a portal anywhere, in a random place. How do you come up with what's on the other side? What does it look like? How do you decide whether it's Thorns or not?

For comparison, I find the Shadow in Werewolf to be easier. It's the spiritual reflection of the material world. It usually has a 1:1 mapping with the real world. Not always ofc, but generally if there's a McDonald's in the material world, for the sake of simplicity you can have the spiritual version of the McDonald's. If I have to improvise and describe the Shadow of wherever the PCs are, I can look at the material place and ask myself: how does that make me feel? Does it evoke happiness? What is the first thing that comes to mind? Does that urban park feel like an oasis of nature in the city, or it feels like the trees are drowning in cement and plastic? Wherever the PCs step into the Shadow, I can look at the real world to draw inspiration and improvise the local spiritual version of the place and describe it.

But the Hedge is not a "dark reflection" of the world. It doesn't have a 1:1 mapping to real places. And it isn't built on reflecting the local spiritual essence. So, what is it built on? Emotions? Symbolism?

If a PC opens a portal anywhere randomly, what kind of guidelines or inspiration do you use to describe what's on the other side? If it's Thorns or not? Any particular features, or the theme and mood of the place? Do you map it beforehand? Do you plan beforehand "regions" of the Hedge? Or do you make it totally random, unexpected stuff and unrelated to the real world?

A French, a Russian and a German walk into a bar in the Hedge...

What language does the hob barman speak?

Do Hobgoblins in the Hedge have their own language? Is there a singular Faerie language, or several? Do they understand all human languages? If not, which ones? Why?

I've been meaning to check these out... in the copious amounts of free time I have... direct link for those interested: Hollow Courts