Quendalon/Session10OfTheFairFolk
In ancient times there came an evil from the edge of the world the likes of which has never been seen. Three Fey Chieftains arose among the Fair Folk and united all the Children of the Wyld under their banner.
And they chanced upon the realm and saw that the people were defenseless. For this was right after the time the old gods abandoned us and deemed that we were without protection. So they came down from their caves and holes in the edge of the world and brought death, entropy and wonder upon this tortured earth.
Our people met the Fair Folk in the Plains of Triumph and moments before dawn a great battle was joined. But though our people fought with great skill and valor, the sheer power of the three Fey Lords turned the tide of the battle.
Foremost among them was Calcruach; tall, eagle-eyed and possessed of inhuman beauty and battle prowess.
Second was Jagganath, son of the Faerie Queen Durandana. Tall as a mountain and twice as strong, his feet shook the earth and his hands, the size of small castles, destroyed whole armies. Entire battalions surrendered at the mere site of him.
And the last, was Sui Anl'a Brul, Scion of the Wyld, shaman and spiritual guide of the Fair Folk. His counsel and strange magic guided the Fair Folk from one victory to another.
When the battle was over the Fair Folk were victorious. And the three Fey Lords spoke, naming themselves the Shining Princes and their horde the Bright Army, for they and they alone stood to greet the light of the sun. The remnants of our people fled in shame to the southern clans to bring news of this horror.
Some time after our people met the Bright Army again, but this time we were not alone. The High King of Gower had raised his war horn and this time all the clans of the north were united under the banner of the Army of Men. The Great Northern Army was the finest fighting force ever assembled. And it stood as the last hope of our people against the hordes of Fair Folk who pressed in to destroy us.
The Army of Men met the Bright Army on the Plains of Conflict. But the battle was over even quicker than the first, for though the Armies were well matched, the Heroes of Humanity had no means of combating the Shining Princes who had power like unto the Children of the Sun.
Years later the remnants of the Army of Humanity met the Bright Army one more time on the Plains of Defeat. They were a motley tattered group composed mostly of old men, women and children for the flower of our manhood had perished in battle long since. They fought not to win for they knew they were doomed. They fought for pride and the desire to account well of themselves before falling.
But some of the Heroes of Humanity had faith. They realized the war could be won. They met with those Fair Folk who were enemies of the Bright Army and an alliance was forged. On that day, the Army of Humanity stood side by side with these renegade Fair Folk. And it was on that day that the Fir'Bolg hero, Ki'Anghsi loosed an arrow at the Shining Prince Jagganath. Where the arrow, a mere splinter, struck no one can say. Only that when it did the Fey Lord died instantly and when he fell his immense bulk destroyed half of the Bright Army.
The other half, trapped between the body of their fallen Prince and the collapsing plains fell before the fury of the clans. I do not lie when I tell you that not a single one would have survived were it not for the mercy of our generals who allowed a handful to flee back to the Edge of Creation only so that they could tell the tale of what happened on that day and what would happen if the Fair Folk ever came forth into the lands of mortal men.
But you know as well as I that it is not a warning they have heeded, yet never again have they come at us in such force.
After this battle our people, the first to meet the Bright Army and the ones to have lost the most, left their ravaged lands and went north. They went past the Plains of Bitter Sorrow and up the Mountains of Torment to the very edge of creation. There they built our homes and our villages, ever-vigilant of the coming of the Fair Folk. To this day we keep our Blood Oath between our clan and the Fir'Bolg and once in every man's lifetime we raise a force to travel to the Great Mountain where the Fir'Bolg live to re-affirm that accursed bond.
This pact is a symbol of our undying shame. For in our darkest hour, we turned not inward to our own strength but out to our enemy. We keep this oath not out of respect for the accursed Fir'Bolg for in truth we owe them nothing and no act can be considered treacherous against any of their kind. We hold this oath as a painful reminder of our moment of weakness for it was better to have died to the last, man, woman and child on that day than to have claimed a victory tainted by association with the children of the Wyld.
