one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue
and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness,
a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
And if I pass this way again,
you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her,
on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death,
and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Not a word was spoke between us,
there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point
had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place
where its always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion,
buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes
an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile,
ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Suddenly I turned around
and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets
on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me
so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Now there's a wall between us,
somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted,
got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all
began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Well, the deputy walks on
hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much,
it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker,
he blows a futile horn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I've heard newborn babies
wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken
teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question,
man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
In a little hilltop village,
they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation
an' they gave me a lethal dose.
I offered up my innocence
and got repaid with scorn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country
but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge,
someday I'll make it mine.
If I could only turn back the clock
to when God and her were born.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
The Boneyard
Once upon a time, this waterfront cavern near Charlotte Beach was a gentleman's club set in the warehouse district. Now, stairs from a warehouse that doubles as a mob headquarters wind downwards into a torch-lit cavern. The main room of the freehold, the wide cavern is scattered in bones, with a mound at the back as tall as a troll, with the hearthfire nestled in a gigantic and inhuman skull. Two passageways behind the mound lead into other parts of the Boneyard, but few people, fae or otherwise, are welcome back there.
The Haunted Mansion
A ramshackle haunted mansion off of Blossom Street near Winton Road- the only freehold in the area other than Dai's, the Haunted Mansion belongs to the Wastrels now, and has for about five years. The front and back yards both are piled in treacherous stacks of treasured junk: the Wastrels seem to, like magpies and other wild thieves, enjoy taking anything that might possibly be useful, rather than stealing for intrinsic value. Many of the piles are booby-trapped: no-one who does not live in the mansion can make it through the yard without a guide.
Once inside, the Mansion is no less tidy; piles of smaller, more portable junk and the detritus of a dozen teenagers litter the flor and furniture in every room but the once-parlour; there, the fireplace roars with the hearthfire and the room is kept spotless. Second-hand but clean couches and cushions, daybeds and pillows and granny quilts are arranged tidly around the rather spacious room.
Miss Belle's Café & Inn
Not a freehold, Miss Belle's Café serves as a halfway house, shelter, and soup kitchen for indigent fae when the need arises.
The bustling little business is located in an old Victorian house on the corner of Park & Alexander; Miss Belle lives upstairs, and rents rooms by the night the week, or the month. The grump boggin and several of her endless children run the café; it is one of a very few 24-hour establishments always serving warm food at reasonable prices and, even during the worst of times, her café was always full, bright, and cheerful - and Miss Belle is always likewise always her cheerfully pushy self.
Mt. Hope Cemetary
Not many changelings have been on the ground of Mt. Hope Cemetery since May of 1930. It is currently run by a Sluagh, Chester Hespera, who came into town less than a month before the gates essentially shut. Chester requires permission of those who wish to enter the upscale graveyard. Since Chester is hard to find, permission is rather difficult to get. The dreaming around the graveyard has since become dark and foreboding. E-mail me to add locations from your character's background to this page