Office Brownies

 

Corporeal Forces: 1              Strength: 1                 Agility: 3

Ethereal Forces: 3                 Intelligence: 6           Precision: 6

Celestial Forces: 2                Will: 4                        Perception: 4

Vessel/1

+2 Charisma

 

Elements:  Information: Knowledge (primary), Society: Corporatism (secondary)

 

Affinities: Obscurement (strong), Motherhood (moderate)

 

Skills: Area Knowledge/1 (Marches), Artistry/2 (Forgery), Computer Operation/3, Dodge/2, Dreaming/3, Emote/3, Knowledge (How to Do X's job/6, Proper Paperwork Procedures/2), Language (Sidhe/3, English/3), Move Silently/3, Survival/1 (Marches)

 

Songs: Draining (Celestial/1)

 

Dread: Being inappropriately rewarded for one's work/3 (2pt/level: there are acceptable rewards)

 

Disadvantages: Addiction/3 (caffeine) is regrettably common.

 

Image: Imagine a big-eyed, friendly-faced, three foot tall elf.  Now put it in a somewhat dusty suit, and possibly half-spectacles.

 

 

The Sidhe are... adaptable.  Not what you'd call all that imaginative, mind you - but give them a basic idea and they can usually make it fit into the most unlikely of places.  Provided, of course, that one doesn't actually care about the fate of whatever one is trying to so fit; then again, elves are extremely good at not caring.

 

Office Brownies work off a variant of the old tales: leave out a double mocha latte every night and your paperwork gets magically done for you.  No mistakes, no hidden pitfalls, every i dotted and t crossed... but offer them an actual job and they disappear in a flash.  Interestingly enough, spying on them is not sufficient to trigger a flight reflex; you can even talk to one, if you're careful to not offer them any sort of praise.  Communicating with one is an interesting experience, in and of itself: they are remarkably emphatic entities, with a genuine desire to be helpful and civil to humans, and they can be very protective of the folks that they adopt.  They are literally designed to be lovable.

 

Needless to say, the Host's reaction to a confirmed sighting of Office Brownies is unchanged from tradition: to wit, an immediate cordoning off of the contaminated zone, coupled with a quarantine of any human being suspected of being in contact with a Sidhe.  Any captured ethereals at the site are, as usual, bound to their vessels and ritually burned; those humans with direct knowledge of the Sidhe infestation are given the standard short term memory deletion treatment.  After that, it's simply a matter of destroying whatever building had housed the Brownies and making sure that the ground is sown with salt (only a symbolic touch, these days, at the request of Flowers).  By now the Host can do it in their sleep.

 

Not that they would.  Angels take things like Office Brownies seriously, in precisely the same way that the American Center for Disease Control takes seriously a lovable, goofy puppy that also has a whole bunch of fleas carrying the Black Death.  Or a mutated, contagious form of rabies.  Let humans believe in brownies again, and the next thing you know, you've got flower fairies, and then it's a small step to banshees, and then here come the elves, and the Host spent too long burning out the elves the last time to want to have to do it all over again, no matter how lovely it is to Smite the giggling little sociopaths.  Ounce of prevention equals a pound of cure, and all that.

 

And, no, it's not a shame in this case.  That's precisely the attitude that the Two Courts wanted you to have in the first place.  Go read up on what elves actually do to their toys if you're feeling sentimental...

 

 

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