Tybalt Stoneclaw/Tybalt Devereux

Bitter Gargoyle


-Seeming – Darkling

-Kith – Lurkglider

-Court – Summer


Intelligence – 2 Strength – 2 Presence – 1
Wits – 3 Dexterity – 4 Manipulation – 2
Resolve – 2 Stamina – 2 Composure – 3


Craft – 1
Investigation – 2 Specialty Skill: Body Language
Politics – 1

Athletics – 4 Specialty Skills: Climbing, Jumping
Firearms – 1
Larceny – 1
Stealth – 4
Survival – 1

Intimidation – 2
Persuasion – 2
Streetwise – 1
Subterfuge – 2 Special Skill: Stone-Faced


Darkness – 2 Creeping Dread, Night’s Subtle Distractions

Dream – 2 Pathfinder, Forging the Dream

Eternal Summer – 1 Son of the Hearth


Lethal Mien – 2

Danger Sense – 2

Perfect Stillness – 1

Mantle – 1

Mentor – 1


Defense – 3
Size – 5
Health – 7
Initiative – 7
Clarity – 7
Speed – 11
Willpower – 6
Wyrd – 2
Glamour – 11
XP – 5
Virtue – Fortitude
Vice – Wrath
Flaw – Aloof

Blessings – Spend 1 point of Glamour to increase Wits, subterfuge, or stealth by 1 point for 1 dice pool. 9 again rule on stealth dice rolls. +2 bonus to all rolls for the purpose of keeping balance on small footholds. When the sun has set: spend 1 point of Glamour to dive from up to 100 yards without taking any damage. During daylight hours: +2 armor.

Curses – During daylight hours: the diving Blessing is inactive. -2 Dexterity. –1 die penalty to all rolls to enact Contracts, –2 dice if the sun is directly visible to them.

Actual Age – Around 57 (20 years spent in Arcadia, though he was only away for 5 real years)
Apparent Age – 37
Born – June 10th, 1974
Date Taken – May 28th, 2005



(Still missing the first bit, sad day)

I was carried off to a land of jagged cliffs and endless night. At its center stood a fortress spiked with tall spires. It was there that I was enslaved, and my tribulations began. I was to stand perfectly still and unseen as great beasts and shrieking demons surrounded me, or climb ten stories of sheer cliff-face to a perch less than an inch deep, or find my way over impossible terrain and turbulent serpent-filled waters to capture a trespasser that was sure to be more monstrous than I. I could not fulfill my Keeper’s demands, so I was beaten, or tossed upon the rocks, or set upon by the claws and fangs of my fellow servants. They never killed me, only broke me down so that I would harden into disfigurement, into something more useful to my station. All of me was transfigured. Shivers of fear became stony stillness. Fingers became claws. Panicked leaps and falls gave way to sharp dives and long, gliding flights. I began to accomplish what was set to me, but my Keeper was fickle.

Not even the most passing word of praise ever came to me, and even demands exquisitely met could warrant punishment. No measure of hiding in the shadows could stave off my Keeper’s cruelty forever. So I perfected my new talents. I rose to loftier and loftier duties until finally I was posted on the highest spinneret of the tallest tower in the realm. From there I could see every inch of the land in all directions, and could finally make out the gnarled Hedge at its distant border. I waited until a moment when all eyes were elsewhere, even those of my Keeper, and I leapt. I skimmed the sky in a great arc, gliding faster and faster, speeding to the edge of the treacherous crags, finally plummeting into the stabbing thorns of the Hedge. My wings were torn, my body broken, but I crawled onward through that maze till my eyes and skin were burned by that daylight I had left behind so long ago.

In the real world five years had passed, yet my abduction had gone unnoticed. My so-called Keeper had left a thing in my place. It was just like me, if not better. In my absence it had excelled in every aspect of my life. My son, my daughter, even Grace believed and loved this lie. I wanted those years back, I wanted the moments they had shared together, but instead I watched the phony me live my life.

I watched my other self barely meet the deadline on a major project at work, drink hot chocolate with my kids after playing with them in the snow, hold my wife as they listened to old music together. I hated the Fetch, but saw myself as the outsider, treasuring this perfect family. At first, the closest I came to my family were brief visits to their dreams, to catch missed memories and quell nightmares if I could. Even that felt like an intrusion. The Summer Court eventually found me, sensing my wrath in the shadows. It was their encouragement that set me free, and finally ruined my family.

All that remained of the Fetch were stones, a bird’s talon, and a large black moth all bound together with twine. All that remained of my life was a job I no longer had the skills for, children I didn’t know, and a wife who could not understand what had happened to her husband. I wasn’t me anymore. I was an empty thing shaped for the night, for guarding and hunting, and try as I might I could no longer reach out to them, could never live up to the façade they had been left with. Finally, I completely withdrew. Only a year after I pulled my battered body from the Hedge, Grace asked me to leave. If I wasn’t going to be part of this family, I wouldn’t live with them either.

The despair that wouldn’t show on my face expressed itself in a desperate act. I explained everything that had happened to me as clearly as I could and giving her fair warning, shed my Mask. I do not blame her for her terror, nor the revulsion and hatred that followed. She screamed at me, begged to see her husband, and accused me of killing him. She had no proof of what I was, but I left without a fight.

I’m a night watchman for the Port Authority of Croatoan. I walk the shipyards, check up on disturbances, and keep tabs on what’s coming and going down by the water. Instead of jagged cliffs and stone pinnacles I have mastheads and gantry cranes. My only real allegiance is to the Summer Court. They have the right idea about the fae. You can’t just hide in the shadows while the Gentry have their way with humanity. It took me a while to realize that, to put into action the loathing in my heart. These are our lives, and they can’t have them anymore.

Family –
Grace V. Devereux – Estranged wife, Tybalt’s high school sweetheart, 37 years old, (some sort of job goes here), after seeing Tybalt’s mien she’s become hateful towards him,slightly paranoid of the supernatural, and extra protective of her kids.
Avery Devereux – Daughter, 13 years old, 7th grader, perhaps in reaction to her mother’s attitude she’s very defensive of her father, now that he no longer lives with them she’s become even more curious about his life and why he suddenly changed.
Elliot Devereux – Son, 10 years old, 5th grader, outwardly at least he is devoted to his mother and very quiet around, perhaps even frightened of Tybalt.

Tybalt Stoneclaw/Tybalt Devereux

Broken Nights Bismod