Character idea brainstorming.

The basic idea of Ramona's history can be summarized in a few parts:

Early Childhood: Ramona's father was terrified of something, she didn't realize this until later in life and never knew what. He only seemed to find comfort in religious further and extreme conservative views, and raised his family accordingly. Though there was never any physical abuse, Ramona and her mother and siblings endured years of emotional harassment and conditioning. They marched against gay marriage and picketed abortion centers and moved sometimes more than once a year because they became too extreme for the local church or "Da" found some other fault with the local community. Or because whatever terrified him had found them? Ramona's not sure. This constant moving often lead to their family's intermittent poverty and poor living conditions, Ramona remembers several weeks of her childhood living out of Da's car.

Rebellion: Largely through her mother's intervention, Ramona was finally allowed to pursue an interest of her own and was enrolled in a martial arts class. Discovering the power and agency of her body through a caring sensei opened the door to Ramona discovering a sense of self. It escalated from there, music and clothes and friends and practices her father found unacceptable, punk and rock and metal music, leather clothing and band-shirts and distressed denim, hanging with a "bad crowd." Needless to say, her relationship with her father, and thus the rest of her family, deteriorated rapidly. Things grew only more strained when she discovered she was gay. Coming out to her family was not an option, but neither was denying who she is. Leaving became the only option, so that's exactly what she did.

Escape: On her eighteenth birthday, Ramona packed those few possessions which mattered most to her and vanished into the Northwest. She became infatuated with blacksmithing after attending renaissance fairs and speaking with members of the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism. She enrolled in a trade school and began discovering herself, both reveling in her agency and power, and plagued by the shame and guilt brought on by the philosophy she grew up with and has yet to entirely rid herself of. After graduating, she apprenticed under local blacksmiths, learning the farrier trade, and also working as a prop master for local, independent film companies to help pay off her student debts.

Capture: Scouring a flea market for props to use in an upcoming science-fantasy adventure film, Ramona stumbled upon a gorgeous black-bladed sword that was terribly damaged. Purchasing the item for a song, she spent days and nights reforging the blade, digging deeper in the effort than she knew she was capable of. The blade was beautiful when she was gorgeous when finished, and the heat had revealed runes along both sides of the blade, glowing hot. She could barely stand to see the actor wave the "prop" around, feeling strangely possessive of the sword. On the way home from the shoot, someone ran her off the road, and a pair of huge and burly men demanded the blade. Without thinking, she gave it to them... in through one end, and out the other. Just holding the blade made her feel powerful, but also unstable. She acted on her inhibitions, especially her anger, any challenge would fill her with a terrible rage and bloodlust. More men, or rather, strange not-men, some huge and powerful, others tall and slippery, came to try to take the blade from her, and she murdered them each time, until she was overwhelmed and dragged into the Hedge.

Durance: Over the course of her stay in Arcadia, Ramona came to learn many names for her Keeper. She knew it as Gram, but heard whisper that it was also named Tyrfing, and Caliburn, and Claiomh Solais, and Kusanagi. The legendary sword, any legendary sword. But it came to her as Gram, and that is how she knew it. Until it was taken from her. Many wished to claim the fae sword, heroes and villains, and any who gripped it would be pulled into their tales, as Ramona was. Her durance was spent in a world of great deeds, costly magic, and unending violence, Game of Thrones meets Beowulf. For the longest time she lived in the mountains, and there became a creature as hard as the lands. A worker of wonders, but also a monster, the troll-smith of the mountains. When moved to violence, she was a berserker, with armor and skin that could turn aside mortal blades, but many aspiring heroes came to her to trick or challenge her into forging them arms and armor. Those that succeeded, anyway. Great tales wove themselves in this world, with Ramona playing the part of monster or mystic, a foe or a dangerous but wise provider of arms.

Escape, Redux: Eventually, she was captured by a party of traveling heroes, and became their slave and personal blacksmith, working her magic as she was chained to the anvil and fed on charcoal and discarded ore. They took her deep into her own mountains, through caves seeking wyrms and dwarfen gold and dark magics. They must have found something, for their leader came before her with a special task. He wielded Gram, or perhaps Gram wielded him? The way it had wielded her, with the temptation of strength and power and rage. The legendary blade had broken again, and cast it's curse upon the heroes. She had repaired it once, and they demanded she repair it again. Once more, it was one of the greatest works of her life, but this time, when she held up the blade reforged, she had a plan. She burned the blade's runes into her flesh, hoping it would imbue her with their power, and then slashed through the anvil to which she was chained, dropped the blade and fled. Unable to tell day from night, Ramona doesn't know how long she ran and squeezed through those caves. But eventually, she emerged from the Hedge, back into the mortal world.

Changeling: What happens next depends partially in where we set our scene, but it is likely what happens to most Changelings: Eventually they find their Freehold, and find their court, and find their place within it.

Addition 7/18: Ramona was taken from Portland but either emerged from the Hedge near Seattle or moved to it. Staying in Portland, with the memories of pre-Changeling life all around her, would've been probably too difficult. She is a member of the SCA, and an ironsmith and man-at-arms of the Summer Court. Her valuable skill set means that she was not expected to be in the vanguard when the power of Summer was at it's peak, but to stand behind or beside the doughty fighters and plug gaps in the lines or refuse a flank. This still means she saw plenty of fighting, especially during the war.

(This got longer and less summary-like as I wrote about it. I screwed up!)

Mask: The word to describe Ramona is solid. Solid build. Solid muscle. Solid features. Wide hips, wider shoulders, defined muscle throughout. Especially her arms, corded with strength from hammering at the anvil. Pale skin of her northern European ancestry, darkened and marked here and there by dust or ash or the forge's heat. Solid hands, heavy but agile, fingers weathered and calloused and nails worn down. Hair usually bleached white in an undercut over glacier blue eyes.

Mein: Ramona is only slightly tall with her Mask on, drawing it off makes her solidly tall, making it clear that this Ogre is big and dangerous. The stone that became her bones (or her bones that became stone?) emerges from the bony prominences of her body, elbow and knuckle and knee and heel, like their rough surface has worn through the skin and flesh. And that skin is branded in clean patterns all across her body, runes that resemble those used by Vikings and other Scandanavian groups, though some are unrecognizable to the mortal world.

Mantle: Ramona carries with her the constant scent of hot metal and the sensation of heat.

Ogre Stonebones/Smith

Virtue: Prudence
Vice: Wrath

Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Composure 3
Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3
Presence 2, Manipulation 1, Resolve 3

Skills
Academics 1, Computers 0, Crafts 2 (Blacksmithing, Gunsmithing, Hedgespinning), Investigation 1, Medicine 1, Occult 1, Politics 0, Science 1 (Metallurgy).
Athletics 2, Brawl 2 (Stonebones), Drive 1, Firearms 2, Larceny 0, Stealth 1, Survival 1, Weaponry 2.
Animal Ken 1, Empathy 1, Expression 0, Intimidation 1, Persuasion 0, Socialize 0, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge 1.

Contracts:
Artifice 3, Eternal Summer 2

Wyrd 1
Clarity 7
Willpower 6
Health 8
Speed 12
Initiative 7
Defense 2

Merits
Ambidextrous 3
Iron Stamina 1
Resources 2
Status 1 (Freehold Ironsmith)
Professional Training 1 (Laborer)
Dual Kith 3 (Smith)
Harvest 1 (Emotions)
Hollow 1
Mantle 2 (Summer)
Workshop 2 (Blacksmithing 1, Gunsmithing 1)

XP Spent:
10 - Attribute: Dexterity 2
15 - Attribute: Dexterity 3
Note: Free Kith specialty spent on Brawl (Stonebones)
3 - Skill: Subterfuge 1
Note: Mantle (Summer) 1 for free
2 - Merit: Iron Stamina 1
2 - Merit: Resources 1
4 - Merit: Resources 2
2 - Merit: Status 1 (Freehold Ironsmith)
2 - Merit: Professional Training 1 (Laborer) (provided a free Specialty)
2 - Merit: Harvest 1 (Emotions)
2 - Merit: Hollow 1
2 - Merit: Workshop 1 (Blacksmithing)
4 - Merit: Workshop 2 (Gunsmithing)

A Flowering Fairest, dual kithed with an Elemental Di-Cang; someone meant to draw people in and ease their suffering.

Her relationship with her Keeper was close and (obviously) abusive; she was kept somewhere in her Keeper's domain as a sort of refuge, somewhere the True Fae could come to lay down their head and have a sympathetic ear. She was on tender hooks the entire time, figuring out what to say or do dependant on their moods, trying to appease this being that flip their shit without a moment's notice.

On the mortal side of the Hedge, after escaping, she wasn't drawn to Summer or Autumn because throwing herself into preparing to fight the Fae felt like giving them too much sustained power over her life (note: this line of thinking would've taken a pretty big hit during the recent conflict). Winter was out of the question too, for a similar reason. So she would be Spring Court and focused on being a support to her fellow Freeholders, and contributing to their resistance that way.

Strong social skills, decent brain, not much in the way of muscle. Probably a focus on Spring contracts that heal, some skill in Medicine, potentially Oneiromancy? That really depends on the story, I know that one can be hard to cater to/work in, especially if other people aren't spec'd for it.

I don't want this person to be overwhelmingly pretty/sweet/good/etc, as I've seen most Flowering Fairest go in my pbp experience. She's manipulative and likes to get what she wants, her way; the abusive nature of her Keeper rubbed off on her and she's as likely to use her emotional intelligence as a weapon, as she is to help someone. While she would have legitimately good intentions toward the Freehold/ers, her views on what a person needs might not match up with their own and she's way more likely to go ahead with what she thinks is best.

Sweet Sylvia
Fairest Flowering/Di-Cang

Virtue: Charity
Vice: Gluttony

Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 3
Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2
Presence 4, Manipulation 3, Composure 2

Skills
Mental
Academics 1
Investigation 2
Medicine 2
Politics 2

Physical
Athletics 2 (Dancing)
Stealth 2
Survival 1
Weaponry 2

Social
Empathy 3 (Needs)
Expression 2
Persuasion 3 (Peer Pressure)
Socialize 3 (Everybody's Friend)
Streetwise 1
Subterfuge 1

Contracts
Eternal Spring •
Fleeting Spring ••
Vainglory •
Separation •

Merits
Dual Kith •••
Spring Mantle •
Striking Looks ••
Harvest (Emotions) •
Resources •
Barfly •
Contacts • (Bridge Troll)

Wyrd 1

XP Spent:
15 - Attribute: Wits 3
15 - Attribute: Manipulation 3
9 - Skill: Weaponry 1, 2
3 - Skill: Subterfuge 1
3 - Skill: Streetwise 1
3 - Skill: Survival 1
2 - Merit: Resources 1


Notes
Mantle 1 free with chargen

Mask
Sylvia is slender and androgynous, reading to most people as either a beautiful man or a handsome woman; sir and ma'am are thrown her way with equal frequency. With large brown eyes and curly brown hair that always looks stylishly tousled, she is effortlessly attractive and knows it; it comes out in the confidence of her walk, how she never seems to doubt her place in a group or social setting. Her clothes are kept as unisex as the rest of her, and her voice is a little deeper than most women's. Fine, light jewelry covers her hands and wrists.

Mien
Her skin has the gentle, healthy glow of someone who has soaked up sunlight and seems to be keeping just a hint of it right below the surface. The locks of her hair are interwoven with delicate greenery and paperwhites, a variety of Narcissus with a sweet scent, and jewels encrust her fingers, moving up to her wrists and dispersing over her forearms. They loosely follow the patterns of gifts she used to wear, grouping in bands and clusters, each one a clear, faceted drop of color.

Mantle
A gentle breeze with the cool, earthy scent of rain.

Before
Sylvia's memories of her early life are hazy at best: a face she assumes is her mother's, the inside of a small house, clothes that never seemed to fit well. Some bits and pieces of school, a dance, something that might be a teenage breakup. The more recent memories are in better focus, going to college and dropping out to pursue a more artistic dream, living with a fistful of roomates, skating by on a smile and doe-eyed apologies when rent was late. Then, getting her feet under and living somewhere more private, being a good neighbor and lending a sympathetic ear to strangers. One such stranger she met repeatedly over the course of a week, each time more charmed than the next despite his haggard appearance. On the seventh night she invited him to sleep on her couch, just until he got his feet back under him, and found her compassion returned with cruelty when she woke the next morning not in her room, but a greenhouse.

Durance
In the beginning it wasn't that bad: the greenhouse was made of amber glass and silver, an octagonal room full of filtered light and beautiful, foreign flowers. The man showered her with gifts and compliments: her kind deed had been rewarded, he claimed. And for a little while she believed him. But the door always locked behind him, the glass would not break, and eventually she sat in the bed of fragrant flowers and didn't bother to get up. He visited often, calling her his refuge; a secret, safe place he could sneak away to and be healed by the warmth of her presence. When she acted out the fantasy, his head in her lap and gentle placations falling from her lips, she was rewarded. Behaviors he did not desire were curbed sharply, pruned away with words and later blades as she took root, the flowers creeping up to take root along her back and into her hair. The gifts weighed down her limbs with jewels that winked like multicolored eyes, jewels like tiny insects, glowing softly. A serene smile fixed itself on her face and she played the game, convincing herself that playing it with no mistakes was akin to beating him.

Escape
Eventually he took to leaving the door unlocked. It stood open and she barely moved, knowing he would return at any moment. And he did, then left once more, door left wide. The desire to see more of his domain motivated her initially, escape hardly occurring to her; why bother, he had maintained that he could find her anywhere. Pulling herself from the ground took quite awhile, the roots trying to pull her back down, but finally she stood again, wrapped in flowers and emepheral jewelry, and moved slowly out. She wandered his home until he found her, just as he said he would, and took her back; a test had been failed, the pruning more severe. The next time the door stood open she tried again, the desire to see new things outweighing the promise of pain. Again and again, she went for walks and turned it into a bit of a game, seeing how long she could go before he found her. The last time, she walked right off into the thorns, still believing he was nearby viewing the act of playful rebellion, and kept going, thorns tearing at the flowers on her back and peeling his gifts away from her. As they went, clarity began to return and the idea of him finding her became terrifying, not lazily amusing.

Only the flowers in her hair and the jewels studding her extremities had survived the trip back, and the sensation that he knew where she was and would find her never left, no matter what she did or told herself.

After
Sylvia eventually settled into the Seattle Freehold, quickly finding common ground with the Spring Court. Her Keeper had had such power over her past, she wanted to give him as little power over her future as possible: Summer and Autumn devoted too much time to fighting the Fae, and Winter to hiding from them. Spring seemed the only one moving forward to her eyes, even if it was often difficult to uphold that ideal even in herself. She started working at a halfway house, using the skills she had honed during her time away, and wasn't bad at it. Remaining still for too long reminded her of that amber greenhouse, and she devised to spend as much time moving and in company as possible.

Recently
During the war, she ran a safehouse out of part of the halfway house. It went well, until one evening she was off work, having dinner at a bar, and saw the building on the news. Whether it had been ratted out or they had gotten sloppy, she never knew. It shut down part of her that was trying to rebuild a life, viewing such things as even more futile than before. Currently, she works at a bar run by the Spring Court for just enough hours to finance her lifestyle, which involves a many friendly acquintances as she can get. She's up for most anything at every hour of the day and night, just don't ask her to have a heart-to-heart.

Kyle van der Wilt
Winter Court Beast Hunterheart

Virtue: Fortitude   Vice: Sloth

ATTRIBUTES:
PHYSICAL - MENTAL - SOCIAL
Intelligence 1
Wits 4
Resolve 2

Strength 2
Dexterity 4
Stamina 2

Presence 3
Manipulation 1
Composure 3

SKILLS:
PHYSICAL - SOCIAL - MENTAL
1 Craft
4 Investigation(Tracking)
1 Medicine
1 Occult

3 Athletics(Running)
3 Brawl
1 Larceny
2 Stealth
3 Survival(Foraging)

2 Animal Ken(Canines): 8 again
3 Empathy(Motives)
2 Intimidation
1 Persuasion
1 Streetwise
1 Subterfuge

CONTRACTS:
The Four Directions 1
Elements(Plants) 1
Fang & Talon(Canines) 2
Shade & Spirit 1

ADVANTAGES:
Wyrd 2
Clarity 7
Willpower 5
Health 7
Speed 12
Initiative 8
Defense 4

MERITS:
Court Goodwill(Summer) 1
Danger Sense 2
Direction Sense 1
Fast Reflexes 1
Fleet of Foot 1
Goblin Vow(Spilled Blood) 1
Harvest(Hedge Bounty) 1
Hollow(Wards) 1
Resources 1
Mantle(Winter) 1
Parkour 1

Athletics(Running) Seeming Specialty
Animal Ken(Canines) Beast Specialty
Winter Mantle 1

XP Log:
15 COM 3
3 Craft 1
3 Medicine 1
3 Occult 1
3 Larceny 1
3 Persuasion 1
3 Streetwise 1
3 Subterfuge 1
2 Court Goodwill(Summer) 1
2 Fleet of Foot 1
2 Goblin Vow(Spilled Blood) 1
2 Harvest(Hedge Bounty) 1
2 Hollow(Wards) 1
2 Resources 1
2 Parkour 1

Mask: Kyle van der Wilt is a rather scruffy-looking, and casually dressed man who appears to be in his mid-thirties, despite the fact that his driver's license confirms that he is actually a few years younger than he appears. Upon first meeting him, most people first take note of his piercing grey eyes. They might also notice some other minor detail of his general appearance. Perhaps it's his strong, stubbly jawline, or the sureness of his stride, or maybe even his wolfish smile that catches their attention. Whatever it is, something about Kyle seems to make him stand out from the crowd just a bit. You might even call it animal magnetism.

Mien: Fetching Kyle's pronounced nose and jawline closely resemble a canine's muzzle and his mouth and chin are smeared with a darker pigmentation that matches the identical stains on his fingertips. The beast also has long, pointed ears covered in a brindled fur that is the same color and pattern as the hair on his head, arms, legs, and chest. Thorns and briars are sometimes found tangled in this unkempt hair and those Lost who have seen his wolfish smile can attest to the many sharp teeth that lie in wait of their next bite of fresh meat. Indeed, the hunterheart always seems to look hungry and something about his loping gait truly suggests a predator stalking his prey.

BEFORE: Kyle grew up in a solidly middle class suburb of Seattle. Deemed a "slacker" and a "lost soul" by his parents, he hadn't really amounted to much by his late twenties and seemed to spend most of his time getting fired from temp jobs in order to hang out with his friends. In fact, he was supposed to be working all weekend at <insert forgotten minimum wage job of the month here>, when he decided to go camping with his buddies instead. While playing a slightly stoned game of capture the flag in the woods, Kyle unknowingly stumbled through a hedge gate and soon heard the unmistakable sounds of something following him, but could not find the source. After realizing that it was not just his friends trying to fuck with him, his fear took over and he started running through the surrounding thorns and briars as fast as his feet would carry him. After a long and exhausting chase though the uncharted wilderness of the hedge, Kyle was left bruised and bloodied, and eventually found himself encircled by what appeared to be a pack of enormous wolves. Cornered and out of options, he screamed threats of bloody murder at his pursuers and howled at them in imitation of their menacing growls, which must have amused the thing holding their leashes. It held the snarling beasts back and Kyle was given a choice. Join the pack or fill their bellies.

DURING: Kyle was collared, leashed and dragged to Arcadia where he became a hound of the Wild Hunt, and was forced to fetch whatever target his Keeper desired. Those that failed to run down their quarry were severely punished, while those capturing their prey were allowed to sate their hunger. After many failed hunts, Kyle resigned himself to dying of torture and starvation, but release never came. He withered but wouldn't die. Eventually, he learned to successfully hunt as part of the pack and then rarely went hungry. His body slowly started to change in order to better fulfill his new role as a bloodhound for the Gentry, and in addition to a new empathy with his fellow hounds, he also made a significant connection with the many sorts of carnivorous plants growing in his Keeper's realm. This aided him significantly in chasing his prey through the thickest undergrowth and enabled him to emerge from the brambles without a scratch. He also developed an uncanny sense of direction and became so connected to his prey that he unfailingly knew which way they had fled and could always find some hint of their scent. Once caught and savaged by the pack, their victims did not die, but would continue to limp and shamble along the endless cycle of the hunt until there was nothing left of them but wisps of shadow and memory caught in the wake of the howling bloodhounds.

AFTER: Kyle and his packmates always wore their leashes whenever they were led outside of their Keeper's realm. While each of the hounds' leashes appeared unique, they were all woven from the same unbreakable promise to prevent escape when their captor was consumed by the irresistible urge to roam the hedge for fresh meat. On what would be his final hunt with the pack, Kyle ran down some unfortunate human male that had probably unwittingly stumbled into the hedge. After fleeing in terror from their grasping claws and slavering jaws, the man managed to put up more of a fight than most, but eventually fell to the hounds and Kyle himself feasted upon the choicest bits. As the rest of the pack devoured their prey's entrails, Kyle notice something that made him stop mid swallow and a cold, sick feeling grew in his guts until the horror and revulsion spewed forth. Kyle vomited up what he was now certain to be his own father's tender heart and lung tissue. As he gasped and gagged, his Keeper showed shock and indignation at such a waste of fresh meat and removed Kyle's leash from his collar with a sudden snap of the wrist. The disobedient hound was swiftly surrounded by his former packmates, and quickly realized that he was now their prey, so he ran from them through the sharp thorns once again. However, this time he was no longer a lazy slacker from the suburbs. He was now a cunning beast with the heart of a hunter. He had learned how to follow any scent to find his quarry... and he had just caught the scent of his home.

NOW: Kyle van der Wilt was found wandering the same woods where he had been reported missing the previous year. Crawling on all fours in a state of severe exhaustion, he was delirious, suffering from exposure, and malnourished. To his great confusion, his father was the one who found him. Having never given up the hope of finding his missing son, Mr. van der Wilt had tirelessly searched the forest every weekend for the past year. He dismissed his son's ravings that he had been killed in the woods... at first, but soon realized that Kyle had returned to him a very different person. After seeing a few specialists to help him deal with his traumatic experience, the younger van der Wilt showed remarkable physical improvement, but since his father was footing the bill, his therapist made known some concerns regarding Kyle's pent up anger and delusions that could possible lead to a violent episode. After a particularly uncomfortable encounter where he questioned not just "who", but "what" his father really is, Kyle simply left home and moved to the city. He remains in contact with his parents, but keeps his distance. Finding odd jobs and making contact with the local freehold have mostly kept him out of any serious trouble. However, the recent war saw Fetching Kyle officially join the Summer Court and he was one of the unfortunates that recklessly chased after their abducted king. After a few weeks, most presumed him to be dead... or worse, but the hunterheart once more found his way home. Although he refuses to provide any details about his experience, it obviously had a profound effect on the beast, since he seems much calmer and quieter than before and is now wrapped in the mantle of the Winter Court.