Bring the violence It's significant To the life If you've ever known anyone Bring the violence It's significant To the life Can you feel it? How do you sleep When you live with your lies Out of your mouth Up from your mind That kind of thinking Starts a chain reaction You are a timebomb ticking away You need to release What you're feeling inside Let out the beast That you're trying to hide Step right up and be a part of the action Get your game face on Because it's time to play You're pushing and fighting your way You're ripping it up Bring the violence It's significant To the life If you've ever known anyone Bring the violence It's significant To the life Can you feel it? How do you live without playing the game Sit on the side and expect to keep sane Step right up and be a part of the action Come get a piece of it before it's too late Take a look around You can't deny what you see Were living in a violent society Well my brother let me show you a better way So get your game face on because it's time to play You're pushing and fighting your way you're ripping it up So tell me what am I supposed to be Another goddamn drone Tell me what am I supposed to be Should I leave it on the inside So tell me what am I supposed to be Another goddamn drone Tell me what am I supposed to be Should I get ready to play You're pushing and fighting your way You're ripping it up

Until the mid-1920's, the fae of Rochester were ruled by a seelie troll, Count Isaac Trueblade. Count Trueblade was an honourable, noble fae, but as he entered grumpdom, his naturally old-fashioned tendancies leaned him closer to hidebound. As 1925 approached, Isaac became reactionary, grumpy, and intolerant of anything new - while many of the fae in the city were young, wild, and enjoying the freedom of the Roaring Twenties. One morning, Count Trueblade was just gone, the gentleman's club he'd kept as a freehold fallen back to the empty warehouse it had been before he showed up. By noon, the redcap mob boss Dai FitzRoi was sitting on a chair of bones in the boneyard-freehold he now claimed. No-one contested his leadership.... something about his mien suggested contesting leadership would be a bloody fatal move, and many convinced themselves that they were better off this way. As a recently-Chrysalised teenager, Dai, working on the docks, fell into the mob that was evolving in the shipping and manufacturing areas of Rochester. The signing of Prohibition into law in 1920 gave the mob here, as everywhere, a major boost into the bootlegging trade, and Dai, who'd started as a runner, quickly worked his way from lackey, to muscle, to boss of a gang of bootleggers and drug dealers. As the Twenties passed, he spent some time around the fae of the city, and Count Isaac Trueblade's archaically formal court, where he was grudgingly welcomed. By the autumn morning when he stole Trueblade's throne, Dai's grey face was well-known among the fae of the city, as well as his reputation for being ruthless and thorough in all his dealings: he is willing to make messy shows of callous violence when need be, but prefers something more akin to pruning than pulling the whole tree up by the roots. He earned every bloody spatter that his reputation gives him and does, when the opportunity arises, actually eat babies for breakfast. Dai holds court, as it is, in his freehold, a series of caves existing only partially in the autumn world. His throne is cared of ivory and rests atop a 5-foot mound of bones and skulls, some human. The whole place has a slight carrion smell to it (but is cleaner than one would expect of a redcap's den), and is lit by flickering torches. He is scrupulous about his given word (and allows his reputation to grow on its own, rather than bragging) and expects his underlings, mortal and fae, to be the same. While not archaic in the way that Trueblade was, he has certain expectations about being a ruling lord - he expects his people to bring him gifts when they come to visit, to ask favour or to attend court, and he's a one-warning sort of guy. Even the Wastrels, who seemingly respect no-one and nothing, pay homage when they visit him. He expects obedience when he gives an order, presence when he sends a summons, and results when he gives a mission - and in return, he provides protection and order. He has no allies, no friends, but many, many underlings, minions, mooks, and lackeys, mostly human. His two closest minions are his bodyguards and leg-breakers, one a troll so dark and nasty as to be a half-step away from ogre, the other a human thug, differentiated from the troll only in the colour of his skin and the slightly shorter build. Dai also has a handful of girls, beautiful, broken women in their late teens or early twenties, who seem to be interchangeable. He calls them all "girl," and none admit to or answer to another name than "Dai's girls." Occasionally, one will disappear, but another soon pops up to take her place. They are richly dressed in a minimum of clothing, coiffed and jeweled as would befit princesses, and woe betide the man who thinks to lay a hand on them - while they are in favour, Dai treats them as his prized posessions.