To the Margravate, I promise many things. I promise to never join the ranks of those perfidious Courts, much as I promise to never be stupid enough to go swimming with sharks. But I’ll protect my kind no matter what I think of them, from threats without and threats within.
The Margravate of the Brim is composed of those changelings who belong to the areas at the edges of the Freehold community, the so-called Brim, or “border marches.” These March Lords and Ladies claim that dwelling within the freehold is no safer than living outside of it ― and, at least the enemies outside usually have the courtesy to stick the knife in your chest instead of your back.
The fae of the Brim make one thing clear: those of the Courts are not to be trusted, at least not without a solid pledge to keep one’s hind end safe (and even then, the slippery eels always seem to have a couple of loopholes, just in case). To the Margraves, the nobles of the freehold are treacherous cowards on the best day, and fickle monsters on the worst. And so, the Margraves have chosen to live on the periphery of changeling society, eschewing the tangled politics of the Courts and demanding that their own members remain soundly apolitical.
Contrary to the March Lords’ bitter disavowal of anything Court-related, they are sworn to protect the freehold ― which, ironically, means they’re sworn to protect those of the Courts, as well. The Margraves believe themselves to be the first and hopefully last line of defense against those outside the freehold who would dare to bring harm against the changeling community.
Mien
For the most part, the March Lords and Ladies look nothing like Lords or Ladies. They tend to dress in old secondhand clothing, eschewing any interest in luxury or fashion. Many wear hats to help conceal their faces (without walking around with masks on, as that would surely spook the humans). A few appear utterly disheveled, draping themselves in the filthy rags and looking more like the homeless than anything.
Their miens only reinforce this. Their skin is always covered in the red, brown or ashen dust that occasionally blows off them in an unfelt wind. The grit and grime lurks everywhere upon them: between their teeth, ringing their callused hands, clumping on eyelashes and brows. Shadows, too, drift across them, as if sun-concealed clouds move swiftly overhead.
Safety of the Brim (Privilege)
The territory defined as the border marches or Brim differs for every freehold, but usually is composed of the land that surrounds the freehold proper (again, loosely defined, but the Margraves make a very concerted effort to map out the boundaries). This generally accounts for at least a few square miles of land. When within the territory of the Brim, a Margravine gains a number of minor bonuses, for this is her territory, and she knows it better than any fancy Court-enslaved fool.
When within the accepted territory of the border marches, the changeling gains the following: +1 to her Initiative modifier, +1 to any Perception rolls made (including the Wits + Composure rolls made to detect surprise attacks) and +1 to any Stealth rolls made (as she knows how best to use the land and its shadow to conceal her actions). These effects end if she leaves the known territory ― even stepping over the invisible “line” that marks the border between freehold and Brim, or Brim and what lies beyond, will cut short her bonuses. She gains no penalties while outside her territory from this effect, though the Storyteller may see fit to incur penalties for other reasons.
Joining
One cannot belong to the Courts and simultaneously belong to the Margravate of the Brim. Some within this order merely distrust the Courts, others loathe the Courts outright ― but rarely does a Margrave have a positive word to share about the so-called nobles. Therefore, connection to the Courts is the uttermost demerit. Even those who no longer belong find themselves distrusted for years, regardless of how often they’ve proven their worth to the March Lords.
The other base requirement is that one must live just outside the freehold. The Margraves have their own maps that show the often improvised boundaries between the freehold and the outer world. Between the two waits the border marches, a kind of buffer zone
between that which belongs to changeling society and that which does not. The border marches might be a street, a whole block or a broken procession of fallow fields and tracts of old forest. The changelings who belong to this order must dwell within the border marches. To live on either side is to declare one’s uncertainty and cowardice, and the Margravate cares little for either.
Some March Lords are more demanding than others. In one freehold, the Margravate might take any Lost who have outwardly rejected the Courts and their noble vanities. To them, nothing else matters. Eschewing the Courts is proof enough, and everybody has some kind of skill they can bring to the table, whether it’s hammering nails or writing missives. In another freehold, however, the March Lords may declare a prohibition against weakness, demanding only the saltiest, most stalwart fae to stand against the freehold’s adversaries. These veteran outposts tend to include only the most hardened changelings ― those with mean eyes, angry words and scars that itch and tingle when the weather turns bad.
