Dark Paperwing
Millennium Sparrow
In the old days, it used to be that the divide between our world and Other was blurry at best. Gods roamed the forests, trees spoke an ancient language, and children were stolen, to be replaced with mischievous sprites for a devastating prank. Towns and villages lived in fear of Other's kindred, who looked upon the short-lived humans with pity and cruelty, as a child will observe the hornet's nest he is about to strike down. Then the men began to fight with iron.
The Others faded into oblivion as an iron age spread across the continents, carried in ships, smelted with fires that belched clouds of greasy black smoke. The first to vanish were the Spirits, those ghostly creatures that haunt the boundary of the living and the dead; then, as mankind brokered treaties among itself and preserved a fragile state of peace at the expense of the poor and exploited, Light and Dark withdrew. Last to abandon the mortal world were the Seasonal Courts, their unshakeable stability thrown astray as the winters and summers, springs and falls swung and altered wildly from year to year. The line dividing Other and Mortal became thicker and darker than it had ever been before. For a time, the Old Ones knew peace, if a self-imprisoned one. But then...
"Larn is dying."
Larn. It was a word that meant both sunset and end, and was the only name that fit Other. The Queen of Light stood on a marble balcony that unfolded from her throne room like a petal, her hand resting on the flowing ivory rail. "I know."
Below, impossibly green fields rolled out from the base of the Citadel, wildflowers pooling in the shadows of the hills. A river of purest silver snaked around the southernmost tip of Queen Eriel's domain, it's western bank shadowed with thick forest. To the north, the fields disappeared into an endless desert; to the east, ocean. The Citadel, the Flower-By-The-Sea, was one of the most beautiful places to exist beneath Larn's red sky and glowing white moon. And Queen Eriel could not see an inch of it.
She touched the silk bandage wound around her head, its knot lost in a cascade of golden curls. "I can feel it, Jack," she said, pained. "I can feel the flowers withering, their thirst going unquenched for days and days no matter how much water I send them... I can feel the mountains shuddering, longing to cast off their stone weight, their roots fraying. I had hoped that Larn could survive, but..."
"We must take changelings again." Jack stood boldly, his hands clasped behind his back in deference but his blue eyes piercing her slender shoulders. "Larn was never meant to support all of us. Already it has lost much of its glory. If we continue to let it fade..."
Eriel understood his ominous threat. Jack was the only one who dared speak to her in such a way, as if she were a child to be commanded; when they were sister and brother, mucking around Vallerian shadow valleys, she had been. That time had long vanished, hastened by Queen Morianna's death. Death by iron...
"It's a risk."
"It will always be a risk," Jack retorted. "Would you have your court die for certainty?"
"Enough." Eriel turned, and Jack nearly stepped back, the anger on her face like a storm marring a beautiful summer sky. She softened. "Speak kindly, brother, even in your fear. Are you certain this is what is needed?"
"Yes." Jack looked down for the barest moment. "King Felghar has already sent his envoys into Mortal. The Spirits have haunted them for centuries, and the Seasonal Courts discuss it as we speak."
Queen Eriel was quiet for a moment.
"Very well," she said, finally. "Bring me changelings, that we may give them to Larn."
- - -
An explanation:
this is to be a modern fantasy that will diverge into a fully fantastic role play. Players will have the option to be either the faeries of Larn, or humans that are captured and brought into Larn. I will direct the plot, no worry about that. Eriel and Jack are mine, but King Felghar or any other positions within the Courts are open.
Character introductions will include an explanation of characters encountering and applying to a "University of Donner" in Scotland, be it exchange, freshman year, or a visit on the part of a high school student. Children who wander into the local area are also permitted. The acceptance letter will inform them to arrive at "Donner's" grounds by three in the afternoon, local time, where they will encounter an ancient castle with no one inside. A large circle of old stones filled with wild mushrooms between them (known as a faerie ring) will draw the applicants, and there the mischief will unfold.
Questions to me.
The Others faded into oblivion as an iron age spread across the continents, carried in ships, smelted with fires that belched clouds of greasy black smoke. The first to vanish were the Spirits, those ghostly creatures that haunt the boundary of the living and the dead; then, as mankind brokered treaties among itself and preserved a fragile state of peace at the expense of the poor and exploited, Light and Dark withdrew. Last to abandon the mortal world were the Seasonal Courts, their unshakeable stability thrown astray as the winters and summers, springs and falls swung and altered wildly from year to year. The line dividing Other and Mortal became thicker and darker than it had ever been before. For a time, the Old Ones knew peace, if a self-imprisoned one. But then...
"Larn is dying."
Larn. It was a word that meant both sunset and end, and was the only name that fit Other. The Queen of Light stood on a marble balcony that unfolded from her throne room like a petal, her hand resting on the flowing ivory rail. "I know."
Below, impossibly green fields rolled out from the base of the Citadel, wildflowers pooling in the shadows of the hills. A river of purest silver snaked around the southernmost tip of Queen Eriel's domain, it's western bank shadowed with thick forest. To the north, the fields disappeared into an endless desert; to the east, ocean. The Citadel, the Flower-By-The-Sea, was one of the most beautiful places to exist beneath Larn's red sky and glowing white moon. And Queen Eriel could not see an inch of it.
She touched the silk bandage wound around her head, its knot lost in a cascade of golden curls. "I can feel it, Jack," she said, pained. "I can feel the flowers withering, their thirst going unquenched for days and days no matter how much water I send them... I can feel the mountains shuddering, longing to cast off their stone weight, their roots fraying. I had hoped that Larn could survive, but..."
"We must take changelings again." Jack stood boldly, his hands clasped behind his back in deference but his blue eyes piercing her slender shoulders. "Larn was never meant to support all of us. Already it has lost much of its glory. If we continue to let it fade..."
Eriel understood his ominous threat. Jack was the only one who dared speak to her in such a way, as if she were a child to be commanded; when they were sister and brother, mucking around Vallerian shadow valleys, she had been. That time had long vanished, hastened by Queen Morianna's death. Death by iron...
"It's a risk."
"It will always be a risk," Jack retorted. "Would you have your court die for certainty?"
"Enough." Eriel turned, and Jack nearly stepped back, the anger on her face like a storm marring a beautiful summer sky. She softened. "Speak kindly, brother, even in your fear. Are you certain this is what is needed?"
"Yes." Jack looked down for the barest moment. "King Felghar has already sent his envoys into Mortal. The Spirits have haunted them for centuries, and the Seasonal Courts discuss it as we speak."
Queen Eriel was quiet for a moment.
"Very well," she said, finally. "Bring me changelings, that we may give them to Larn."
- - -
An explanation:
this is to be a modern fantasy that will diverge into a fully fantastic role play. Players will have the option to be either the faeries of Larn, or humans that are captured and brought into Larn. I will direct the plot, no worry about that. Eriel and Jack are mine, but King Felghar or any other positions within the Courts are open.
Character introductions will include an explanation of characters encountering and applying to a "University of Donner" in Scotland, be it exchange, freshman year, or a visit on the part of a high school student. Children who wander into the local area are also permitted. The acceptance letter will inform them to arrive at "Donner's" grounds by three in the afternoon, local time, where they will encounter an ancient castle with no one inside. A large circle of old stones filled with wild mushrooms between them (known as a faerie ring) will draw the applicants, and there the mischief will unfold.
Questions to me.
