Eidolon

The Grease-Stained Ghost of Cleveland’s Roads. Unseelie, probably.

Who He Was (Allegedly)

Eidolon was a Nocker like no other, which is saying something considering the average Nocker’s attitude could curdle paint. Renowned across Forest City County (and whispered about as far as Pittsburgh), Eidolon was a builder of wheeled wonders, from rickety faerie bicycles that swerved away from Banality on their own, to impossible carriages that could cross Dreaming thresholds if you tapped the brakes just right.

He famously drove a 1967 Buick Gran Sport, painted lacquer-black with chromed antlers jutting from the hood. The engine, they say, ran on a mix of Glamour and bad decisions. If you honked at him, the car would hiss like a Canadian goose in rut. If you tried to tail him, the Dreaming would blur around him like heat off a racetrack.

In 1986, he was elected Moondog, and the city has yet to fully recover from it.

The Balloonfest Scandal

During his one-year “reign,” Eidolon orchestrated a chaotic civic display that coincided—coincidentally, of course—with the mortal disaster known as Balloonfest '86. His fae counterpart to the human event involved a Glamour-infused balloon barrage meant to "distract the Dreaming from Cleveland’s rising Banality." According to one attendee, the sky opened like a jukebox and tried to play all its records at once.

By the time the Glamour receded, a visiting duchal envoy had lost their shoes, their memory of English, and three minor Titles. No one ever quite proved it was Eidolon’s doing, but he was never nominated for Moondog again. A statue of him (upside down and covered in gum) was briefly erected on the Carnegie Bridge before mysteriously vanishing.

The Megalodon Incident

Perhaps his most legendary feat occurred when a pompous Sidhe duke commissioned Eidolon (most say at the unwelcome end of a Sovereign Cantrip) to construct a Dreaming-worthy yacht, fit for a royal tour of the Erie trods. The yacht was indeed stunning—sleek as moonlight and humming with magics Eidolon swore he “accidentally borrowed” from a chimera of Poseidon.

When the duke launched it, the yacht transformed into a mechanical megalodon, teeth and all, and swallowed the Sidhe’s retinue whole before vanishing into Lake Erie’s gloom. That was the last time any titled Sidhe approached Eidolon for custom work.

Friendships & Fights

Though Eidolon could verbally reduce a Boggan to tears with a three-syllable complaint, he had a longstanding kinship with the Troll Kaelar, one of the only fae who could drink beside him and not flinch. They were often spotted in Dreaming taverns downing bottles from the Far that were technically flammable Tuatha de Danaan curses in liquid form.

He shared a strange bond with Orris, the Boggan busybody who reportedly defended Eidolon more times than anyone could count—but only when Eidolon wasn’t in the room. In person, the two were a storm of grumbles, jabs, and one-upmanship. Most agree they liked each other more than either would admit.

Legacy

To the Moondog Barony, Eidolon is a cautionary legend and a cult hero. Some of the older fae say the megalodon still swims beneath Lake Erie, humming old Nocker battle songs. Some say Eidolon’s hot rod reappears during lunar eclipses. Others insist he lives on as an urban legend, the “Red Gremlin” who leaves hexed lugnuts on the tires of Sidhe limousines.

None of it’s been proven.
All of it’s been whispered.
And that’s exactly how Eidolon would’ve liked it.