Update the Changeling: Charles Goldwater

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{{Char |threadid=34442 |box2=Presence Bog standard |pic2=No |box1=Appearance Oil-soaked Corpse |Avatar=Daniel Frederikson |Quote="I have no illusions that anything we do will actually matter, but I'd rather try anyways than just sit around." }} ==Description== ===Mask=== Pale skinned with thin figure with but a hint of musculature. Shoulder length black hair with an oily look to it, often either swept back or worn in a ponytail. Pale blue eyes that show little emotion. ===Mien=== His skin takes on the pallor and appearance of a water-logged corpse. A sheen of oil dances over his skin. His hair is greenish-black, wet, and perpetually slick with thick grease. Pale, dead eyes. ==History== ===Before Arcadia=== Charles Goldwater, also originally known as Lucas Hawthorne back then, grew up in Dallas, Texas. His family was fairly middle class and had all the advantages (and disadvantages) of a large metropolitan city at their disposal. Lucas attended one of the several schools in the area, where he made great grades and few friends. He was one of those odd ducks who actually liked math, strangely enough. And what's public education without bullying! No school would be complete without some muscleheads taking out their pent-up aggression on the bookworm. Unfortunately for those fellows, momma didn't raise no doormat and Lucas could give as well as he could take. Did he end up in detention? Several times. But it was worth it to wipe the smug grins off their faces. Once he graduated high school, he pretty much knew exactly what he was going to do. The Houston and the Gulf of Mexico weren't too far away, he had a great head for numbers, and the oil industry was booming. So he got himself a bachelors degree in Engineering, then twiddled around a bit doing less glorious options, before finally landing himself a position on an oil refinery. Lucas Hawthorne, Process Engineer. Now wasn't that a fancy title? Something he could brag about to everybody back in Dallas. Pity that unreality had to rear its lovely head. Lucas was one of the hardest workers there, largely because he buried his nose in it and didn't mind all the number crunching. Which also meant that when there were problems, people called him first because they figured he didn't mind. Some odd readings were coming up from below deck and he was just the man for the job. But when he actually got down there, he was greeted by a sight he wished never to see again. An unearthly fellow, sea green skin and a sea foam beard, wielding a trident of gleaming gold and a crown of the darkest coral. He obviously wasn't of Earth. And he was condemning Lucas. For what, he couldn't actually tell. He kept on speaking of how they had laid claim to territory that belonged to him and that their very presence was defiling this hallowed ground. It didn't make sense and no matter how he tried to explain it, he could brook no sympathy. Looking back on it, the Fae probably didn't care who it was so long as he got to exert some petty vengeance and whatever poor bloke it may be. ===Durance=== Lucas was seized by the collar and thrown into an abyss that definitely wasn't there beforehand. He fell into a swirling cauldron of unidentifiable liquid. It seemed like water but burned like acid, he swear he could feel it peeling away at his skin. And when he finally surfaced, he was quick to discover he was definitely no longer in the Gulf of Mexico. He was in The Sovereign of the Sea's realm. He most have found it funny, The Sovereign. He was an oil worker, so toss him in his own idea of an oil spill. The water was a terrible toxin that caused pain just by contact, but there was no way to escape from it. It formed a film on the surface and no matter how far you swam, you never could reach the edge. He found it was better to rest below the surface, where the top layer of sludge couldn't grab at try to drag you to the depths. Lucas needed to think, there had to be a solution. Shouldn't there? He retreated into himself, growing introspective and unaware of his surroundings beyond the barest sense. He let himself fade into the sea, ignoring the pain. But he had one thing that would keep him conscious and somewhat human. Rage. His heart burned with the desire to escape, to exact revenge, to on his mercurial captor. ===Escape=== He finally came up with a plan. It was daring, he didn't know if it would work. Hell, he didn't even have any proof it would work. But it was better than just sitting there. He began swimming down. Down deep in to the depths, past where light could catch. The water grew darker, colder, more oppressive. He felt the presence of terrible creatures that filled him with dread, but he never saw them and kept going on. Perhaps if you're meant to fear the abyssal depths, then perhaps you might find escape there. It was hard to measure time, but by his estimate, he swam down for five days. Eventually, he reached something. Like a foreboding forest of kelp, seaweed, and coral. Plant life that felt different from the otherwise corrosive waters. Kelp that was barbed and thorned. He had found the Hedge. ===After Arcadia=== When he emerged from the water once more, he was back on the shores of Texas. A welcome sight to a weary traveler. First things, first, head to Houston. That was where the headquarters of his company had been and where he had last left off before joining them. But time had passed him by. It had been five years since he'd seen land. The oil business was no longer quite as lucrative, the refinery he'd worked at had been cut down to size. His Fetch had been one of the causalities and heaven knows where he could be now. Still, it wasn't all bad. He found himself in the Houston Freehold, a whole 'nother side to the city he hadn't even known. They helped him get things together, get back on his feet. They taught him the basics and what he now was. He ended up allying with the Summer Court, maybe because it was one of the two largest courts there, but he still felt a burning anger at what had been done to him. He curried favors with the locals, got himself a new identity as Charles Goldwater, and a car to help him get around. Lord knows you didn't want to use the trods if you didn't know what you were doing. But he never felt particularly... safe. Houston was not the most trusting Freehold, even with him being on the first rung of the Summer Court, he was viewed with plenty of suspicion. He always had the feeling he was locked out of the loop and unwanted. After all, the Houston Freehold suffered from a large number of Loyalists and the survivors of Hurricane Katrina still lingered about on the fringes. Plus, he worried about what might happen when those favors started calling for him. So he skipped town. He wasn't abandoning his oaths, but they couldn't call in favors on a person who wasn't there. He wanted to find a place a bit more welcoming, where his actions weren't viewed with suspicion. And he wanted to find a new job. After becoming something synonymous with pollution, he couldn't just get back in the oil field. It felt like conforming to exactly what The Sovereign wanted of him. No, he wanted to spit that idea back in his face. And finally, he had family in Sacramento. Distant family that he knew wouldn't recognize him, but it was a better start than anything else. So it was off to Sacramento for... who knows what. ==Fetch== He knows his Fetch exists, but seeing as his location is very dubious, he hasn't put much effort in to tracking him down. If he could, it'd be nice to track him down and take care of that loose end. But with little clue as to where he might be, that's just one thing he'll have to deal with later. <!-- This is the footer and goes last, enter information above this line --> {{Bibliography}}{{Changeling Character}}