Name: Magenta

Nickname: "The Magenta Child"

Sex: Male

Age: 27

Faery Age: 512

(The reason why there are two ages is because my character has a wise old soul in a young body. This will make more sense when you read the Race description.)

Race: Changeling/ Pooka
If you’re reading this you’re probably wondering what a changeling is, much less a Pooka. Due to the fact that this character is based off a table top white wolf game called “Changeling the Dreaming”, I will provide the definition that they give. A changeling is a fae (or fairy) who has taken on mortal form in order to survive in the mortal world on Earth. These fairies lead a double life, alternating between reality and fantasy, caught in the middle ground between dream and wakefulness, they are neither wholly fae nor wholly human but burdened with the cares of both. Finding a middle ground between the insane wild world of the fae and the dead banal world of humanity is essential if they are to remain whole. In the end, but not necessarily inevitable, the changeling succumbs to one of two things. 1) Banality, the loss of all faery magic or 2) Bedlam, the loss of all mortal reason (Insanity). A changeling is in a constant battle to fight against banality. The human world is so dreadful and threatening. Yet too many steps in the other direction spells out disaster as they find themselves enveloped in their own created world of Bedlam. Now that you have an idea of what a changeling is, I will explain what a Pooka is. Pookas are the most sweet kind, congenial, and friendly of the Changelings, but are also the most deceiving, rapscallion, devious and eccentric. They love to play and hate to work. Some fae lore suggests that pooka decended from the dreams of people wishing they could be animals and enjoy the freedom. This can be partly explained by the fact that Pookas all share certain characteristics of a certain animal on their mortal as well as faery bodies. For example, a Cat Pooka, might have cat ears or cat eyes on his or her physical appearance. Everything is larger than life for them, and they will go out of their way to chase way sadness or banality. Despite their devious ways, they are ironically noble and courageous in battle. Pookas have one weakness that makes them unbelievable. They always tell lies. People may trust a pooka, but no one would ever actually believe one. No matter how important the situation is, they must always tell a lie. Telling the truth isn’t impossible but requires extreme willpower to do so. Different pookas have different styles of lying. My character likes to mix truth and lies together. For example, the truth would be “That tree is tall and green”, my character might say “That tree is short and green” just by tweaking one word causes the whole story to become a lie.


Physical Description: About 5’ 4” with an athletic physique, and a pale complexion. Dark brown hair and aqua colored irises that glow when glamour is around. Due to the fact that he is a Goat Pooka, meaning he has features of a goat, he displays two little horns on his head and his feet are cloven at the bottom like that of a goat. His skin has little marker tattoos all over in different colors. He has a small button nose that is a little darker than the rest of his face. His ears are a bit pointy due to his fae nature. His legs are very muscular and strong. He has a youth face and his physical appearance has a seeming of a 17 year old boy. His hair is always spike up in random patterns. Who needs to comb their hair anyway? His legs from the upper thigh down are really hairy, representing the other fairy side of him. His face is almost always in a smirk, smile, or grin.

Clothing: Usually baggy clothing, this is also variable to the time period in which the role playing is being held. No matter what clothing he wears, he always “customizes it” with his colors, writing on them silly phrases or little smiley faces. He can’t wear clothing that doesn’t have his customization for very long or he suffers a very strange irritation and will try anything in his power to color it.

Markings (if you have any): A septacle on his right palm. (This is not a tattoo, but a drawing done in a coloring marker that he renews everyday. He cannot cast spells unless he has the mark on his hand.

Weapons: Does not carry any weapons upon person. Who needs weapoons anyway, they can become dull, and aged, while magic is always sharp and never wears.

Weakness: Banality; banality is the mortal disbelief as it affects changelings. For example, a lawyer who had an extremely boring life who didn’t believe in any magic, much less a religion of some sort, might cause discomfort if the character is placed in a position in which he is forced to with in that lawyer’s vicinity. Banality comes in all forms, it could be a person, a place or a thing. A person might be the lawyer or a CEO, a place might be a crowded city with no park, and a thing might be a car, or raw iron (Which has already been noted in real folklore to be very harmful to faeries causing them to loose their magickal power can is the only material that can actually kill the faeries form.)

Specialties/Powers: Pooka Magick. This includes the following; 1)
Shape-shifting; because my character is already a shape-shifter, he can do this rather easily, however depending on the banality rating of the place he is around, this may become more difficult. A city would have a high banality, so his ability to cast it affectively, is greatly reduced. 2) Chicanery; which is the art of deception, and favored by those who utilize guile and deception to lead the unwary astray. This involves fooling the senses and ensnaring the mind at greater skill. My character on the other hand is not extremely skilled and only can do the following things. a) Fuddle; fuddle can alter a targets perception, however this does NOT mean to create illusion. You can not create something that isn’t really there, you can only manipulate what is already there. A person who is blind and deaf cannot be made to hear or see the ocean, but can be fooled into smelling the tangy salt of the sea. You cannot turn invisible, however if your hiding in the shadows, you can cause a person to overlook you. b) Veiled Eyes; This does exactly how it sounds, it causes a target to ignore anything the caster desires. Again it can not turn something invisible but can cause a target to feel as if whatever the caster’s desire is to not be worth looking at or undesirable. The other ability that he can do, 3) The Final ability is Sprit Walk; this is the ability in which a person can enter a person’s dream, this requires that my character is also in a state of unconsciousness, such as sleeping. This does not mean I can change the person dream as a whole or take control of it, but can send messages to the dreamer by manipulating what is already in the dream. During this period, I am completely under the will of the dreamer, but still retain my own thought and senses.

Rituals: Unlike wizard who recite spells from a spell book, My character uses bunks, or requirements to perform a sort of ritual. For each ability or special power my character can do, I was perform one of the following.

1) To use fuddle I must draw an eyeball on a surface and have the iris and pupil looking at the target I want to manipulate. The drawing MUST be colored, it cannot be in pencil or charcoal.
2) To use Veiled eyes, I must draw a circle using chalk around the target I don’t want the person to see. Then I have to draw a big “X” over the circle.
3) To use spirit-walk, I have to draw a murder victim like outline of my character on the ground floor, then have it repeated into a pattern that looks like the outline is glowing and radiating, and it all has to be shaded using all the different colors of the rainbow. Then of course I have to go to sleep visualizing the person I wish to visit in their dreams.

*Note* As stated previously, none of these bunks can even be done unless the septacle has been drawn on his right palm.

Abilities and or Skills: Lock Picking, Swimming, Stealth, Survival, Arcane Knowledge (Knowledge about the Fae and their History)

Other Items: A box of colored chalk, a set of paints, a small box of 12 crayons, and a packet of pencil colors.

Personality: Very cheery, optimistic, comedic, sometimes a little rambunctious, and a bit boisterous at times. Due to the nature of Pookas, it is in their nature to be very mischievous, this includes pranks, and lying, sometimes to the expense of the others well-being. It is in a Pookas nature to as well constantly lie, this doesn’t mean that the pooka necessarily has to contradict the actual truth, but can be something along these lines. The truth is “That really tall tree has a lot of leaves.” The pooka on the other hand might say something along these lines, “That short tree has a lot of leaves”. Little tiny tweaks, can make Pookas very hard to trust, and it takes extreme willpower for a pooka to tell the truth. This is all in part of the Pookas feeling of the world suffering, falling into the hands of banality. This makes them find anyway possible to make something, even make a lie, something that puts the spark back in life. Magenta will do anything to make a friend, even if this means putting someone else in harms way. For example, Magenta might steal the King’s ring to make a friend. This makes him vulnerable to exploitation by those who are familiar with Pookas.

History: This pooka has lived in a world of banality, also known as the modern human world. In early human civilization, humanity worshipped, praised, and glorified magick in all its forms. Humanity focused on the spiritual, the artistic, the imaginative part of life, that wonder and spark that gives a whole feeling, an inner purpose. Time and time again this Pooka has fought against the growing banality in the world as humanity drove itself into madness in a world it created. The silly humans found their time in machinery, toys that they played with. They came up with several reasons why magick didn’t exist and that all faery tales where just that, faery tales. On the contrary, humans themselves did not realize the concept othat everything in the world was magick, and that their rules and reasons why magick didn’t exist in and of themselves were magick. Through inspiring the human youth, Magenta colored a world he found as the perfect world, a place where imagination roamed free and anything was possible. As time passed by the world turned grey, and concrete slabs of stone barricaded the humans in a fortress of banality. Through his Cantrips (Faery magickal spells) he sought to pursue his dreams against a dreary world that just needed a laugh or two.

Sample Rp Post: “I am the monument to all your fears!”, a deep slow echoing voice boomed inside the caverns of her cranium. The sound made her ears ring with pain, and her eyes closed tight, squinting so hard that her eye balls themselves began to ache under the pressure. Here equilibrium in her head began toying with her balance, acting like two children in a school playground, going up and down on the see-saw. Her fingers quivered over her ears, the bottoms of her palms pressed firmly against her mid jaw. Her hands turned white with the pressure. Her breathe was scattered, her breathing sounded like a women out in the cold without a jacket, snow weighing upon her eyelids. Her bottom lip glistened with the saliva of her hysteria dribbled down and across her chin collecting in a little bead at the bottom. Her brown curly hair was sweaty, tangled, her curls where shriveled and matted. She had a dead gaze, staring at the tile floor. She could smell the sickening smell of the hospital, old folks who couldn’t bathe, nasty breathe of those who had a cold. She tasted the stale air of the room, it was dry, dead. As the booming voices last sound faded away from her mind, her hands slowly moved down at a snails pace. What if it would come back, she dare not even think of it, the pain so unbearable. As her hands reach her lap, all that was heard was the rustling of her hospital uniform, stiff and coarse. She felt something in her hands, it felt warm, soft, and squishy, like a water balloon, but smaller. She slowly turned her palms toward her to see what she held, her chest heaving in and out rapidly. She felt something stream down the back of her hand, it too was warm and wet. Her hands trembled and she quaked and began to rock back and forth in her seat, her wheelchair, her prison, as she opened the doors of her hands. She could feel the tiny little bones in her hands cramp up, feeling like old rusty hinges on an apartment door. She didn’t know what she held in her hands, she was scared, knowing and seeing was such burden, she loved being in bliss, ignorance, be like that of a child, oh she loved it. There was a scary world out there. With this bliss came the doubt that even not knowing something, not seeing it was just as frightening, like a little child in the dark, or locked in their own closet, but too short to reach the light switch. As the palms of her hands met her eyes, what she saw, shook her very soul. In her hands where her own eyes, in gore and severance. Her heart fluttered and she dropped them and screamed. A hallow demonic sounding bellow of laughter came from behind her eye socket. She could feel its breath, the steam burning the back of her mind. Her shaking fingers came to her eye sockets feeling the depression in her skull, the holes of emptiness, all that remained was flaps of dead skin, so long forgotten that they felt like somebody else’s eye lids. Have you ever thought of whether or body was actually you own? That maybe your eyes belonged to something or someone else? She whimpered, the bead of spit hit the ground with a soft touch like a tear falling on a blanket. Her lungs couldn’t bare to take in and more of her breath and with the exhale came her wailing of sorrow. “Why-y-y-y…why?”
After the chuckling subsided she felt around and could feel the arms of her wheel chair. Feeling their familiarity, something she knew for sure was actually there. A muffled voice slowly became louder from behind her. “Miss Brittany…Miss Brittany! Can you hear me? You dropped your medicine on the floor, here I’ll pick it up for you…” the voice echoes, and her heart stopped for a second, she didn’t want the medicine to be picked up, what if it was… oh she couldn’t dare to see it anymore. So many painful visions. “Here darling…its ok…here’s your medicine” the lady sad in a sweet distant sounding voice, as if the blind girl was trapped in a glass box. The nurses hands met with hers, they were cold and moist, but what she handed her was quite the contrary…