Brewer is one of the sub-types of the Wizened seeming. They are changelings who spent their durance in Faerie learning how to create mind-bendingly potent drinks or peculiar alchemies. Due to long exposure and gradual immunity, a Brewer gains four bonus dice to any Stamina roll made to resist poisons or intoxication. Theirs is the blessing of the The Inebriating Elixir.


These Wizened were pressed into service in distilleries, wineries and laboratories, set to brewing the most outlandish concoctions from the bizarre ingredients given them by their Keepers. Brewers were made to produce refreshing beverages for their masters and nothing more — though those potables included burning draughts of quicksilver, the essence of moonbeams and basilisk tears, and all manner of fantastic liquids that only a True Fae could crave. Brewers were also the alchemist servants to the Gentry, producing even stranger infusions for purposes that could only be guessed at. When it comes to indulging in mortal spirits or concoctions of their own design, Brewers tend to split into habitual experimenters and teetotalers. Those who abstain do so because they associate alcohol with the poisons they ingested in Arcadia, and have no desire to be reminded of their maddened deliria of the time. Those who partake may have a love for earthly drink simply because it isn’t the concoctions of Faerie, and indeed helps them forget their durance for a time. They might also drink out of a sense of professional pride, indulging themselves just as a musician attends concerts and an author devours books. Brewers are in popular demand for a freehold revel in either case, for even if they don’t drink themselves, they can provide refreshments of singular flavor and potency. A Brewer’s mien typically involves discoloration. Brewers’ mouths and teeth may be stained strange colors by the peculiar liquids they ingested, or their long and agile fingers might be blotched with a variety of unsettling hues. Some have breath redolent of strange odors, smelling like raw sulfur one moment and fermented plums the next. Those who were pressed into service as alchemists might have blackened sear marks on their flesh, or patches of skin that have been partially transmuted to flexible gold or copper. Some literally shift in appearance, governed by the four classical humors: becoming red-cheeked and gaining weight when the sanguine humors rise in them, only to shrink into a sallow, emaciated state when the melancholic black bile drives them to introspection.


The modifications made to a Brewer often entailed replacing various fluids in their body with peculiar faerie elixirs. These transfusions would be repeated frequently, and the effects were numerous. A Brewer underwent pain, mindless ecstasy, hallucinations, psychotic fits, even temporary physical transformations in the service of her Keeper. Some even recall being run through wine-presses as an object lesson, or perhaps to wring some precious fluid from their bodies that even now is missing.


The folklore of mystical drinks and magical potions gives rise to the Brewers’ tasks. They brewed poisons to apply to ripe apples and spinning needles. Their wine fueled the drunken rampages of the maenads, or lulled unsuspecting people to slumber for 10, 20, 100 years at a time.


Poisoned by raw milk, cannot refuse an offer of drink, cannot spit or vomit on dry ground, weakened by running water, must eat burnt food, cleanliness compulsions.


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