The Charm Hag
From Changeling Venue
Contact: Nate Beebe dirtyleftsock@yahoo.com
A bloated, black creature that still attempts to call itself female glides from room to room without the needed grace, often bumping doorways and tipping tables. It never hears any clatters, though. Two little men run along behind it at all times deftly catching anything that might fall, all the while trying desperately to stay out of its sight. They know what drawing her attention means and do not wish to draw it any more than they need to. One specializes in rubbing spots from the walls, the other in crying. There used to be a third, but the second only cries enough for two.
It places a few near-wilted flowers in the hands of a quiet dryad. The girl stiffens at its touch and hopes the hag will quickly pass. It runs a finger along her cheek, raising it to show off the necklace she wears and leaving a faint brown smear of this morning’s meal. It turns away long enough for the girl to wipe her face and return to the pose. It glances at her with satisfaction, almost as if looking at a painting or a rack of fresh meat. The charms along its wrist jingle slightly, their silver shine bright against its coarse skin. It must decide if this girl is done and if it needs another charm to make it beautiful.
It moves down the hall, stepping over a fallen boy. As it looks at the windows, the little men try desperately to remove the boy – one pulling him under a rug, forcing him to become part of the worn throw and the other claps his hands deftly across the boy’s mouth. It does not like screams. Screams draw its attention. The little men do not like screams either. They both hear the charm’s gentle chime - the softest, most wonderful call for execution. They both know the rug will need replacing.
The windows are graced with two gentlemen of stained glass, each stretching to cover every hole and crack the can. They hope that it will not look at them. Maybe at the rain outside that each feels forcing its way thru broken glass - maybe just at the other man across the hall. It does not like the rain. The rain is always coming to its parties uninvited, finding a way in on the souls of shoes and the hems of cloaks. Even the ceiling seems to let the rain in sometimes. The glass men envy the rain. It at least looks at the rain, not through it.
It moves past without changing expression. The doors of the palace have been mended for tonight’s festival. One still does not open, but that man is new and will learn soon enough. The other door will be plenty, less rain any way. It sits and watches the door and listens to the time whispered by an old angel. “Soon”, she says over and over, “Soon”. It settles itself on a seat of woven men and women and waits for the parade of Gentry to march through its halls and dirty its floors. It waits and wonders why it has these parties anyway…
The "Willing"
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the hag is how it demands loyalty. If any of its servants are to leave the palace, it places one of the many silver charms beneath their tongue. This placement is not always done voluntary and more than a few tongues and teeth clutter the Broken Palace’s floor. Still, even knowing the truth, some beg for the chance to prove their worth and happily accept the bitter token.
At first the servant has difficulty speaking, finding it hard to use common words and impossible to speak of the hag itself. The tongue swells and grows black, oozing if bitten and eventually bursting in the poor creature’s mouth - forcing them to drink down the bile that it held. This is when the nightmare truly begins. Pain wracks the victim’s body as it bloats, losing all traces of identity and gender. What little hair that is left turns to coarse silver wire as the bones realign to carry this awful weight. Finally, the victim’s stomach heaves forcing up a small link bracelet adorned with a single charm – one that bears a familiar but forgotten visage.
After the change is done there is no longer any trace of who it may have been before. They believe they are and, in a sense are, the Charm Hag – free from it's palace and able to carry out her will with complete loyalty.
Deliquent Servants
Many changelings escaped during one of the Charm Hag's great feasts. During the exodus, the hedge was wracked with terrible storms and the hag was in close pusuit. The changelings that left as one are now spread across the world.
- Sean Briggs - Wizened, Drudge
