Elwin the Hawk
You see tiny fay fluttering on gossamer wings. Before him is a miniature suit of silver armor hung upon the limbs of a tree. The armor is engraved with intricate carvings of leaves and vines, and blended into the floral patterns are etchings of magical runes. The sharp-eyed elf quickly notices your entrance into his spiritual realm and smiles. He speaks in a light, lilting voice.
“Fou Forn Doree, human. So do you like my armor tree?! An attempt at humor there. That is what you humans call your armor racks, isn’t it? This is a memory of the armor I once wore when I was a Faerie Knight of the White King. After we were slain by the Foul One, our weapons were summoned to the Tree of Swords in Eidenhomme for safekeeping. Unfortunately, our armor was not so lucky. Our graves were robbed by some mongrel goblins, raiders we believe in the employ of Brudenko the Exiled. The greater indignity was that I sensed they smelted my armor down to use its ore for a one of their primitive armaments. Despite my feelings of loss for knightly vestments, it feels good to remember it. Its like a visit with an old friend, but like all memories it too must fade.
The ornate armor turns translucent and then fades away like a morning fog.
“You wonder at how I
sensed my armors demise by fire. I, of course, can sense it. I wore the armor
for years and inevitably I bonded with it. I often forget how limited your human
senses are. It must be terrible to be restricted to merely five senses. After
being in this boneyard for a few years and speaking with both the quick and the
dead here, I have come to understand that this sensory blindness is the root of
many of the problems you stir up. Unlike us fay, you don’t have innate
foresight, connectedness or judgement. You cast spells of Precognition, Commune
with Nature or Divination, yet these are tools not an intrinsic part of you. By
concentrating a fay can sense possible outcomes of its actions, the impact of
those actions might have on the natural world and upon its fellow fay all before
it acts.
Now mind you, I am not criticizing or slandering your race, but I am beginning
to understand it. Your kind can chop down a forest because you cannot feel the
trees bleed, hear the soil cry out, nor see the animals that cower in fear as
their homes are razed. You are dead to all this except somewhere in the pit of
your stomach or deep in your psyche you feel the lands wound. We fay cannot
deaden our senses and as such are loath to harm the natural world. We are in
constant sympathetic relationship with all nature, living or not. From a slug
foraging for food to the silver ore of my armor, we are woven into the World
Web, the Great All.
Think about it. It explains why their have been so many human wars: the Nobles
War, the Wizard Wars, the Fire Wars, the Hills War, the Ogre-Kill War, the Water
Wars... yet there are so few fay wars. It would be sadomasochism for fay to war
with natural beings. Each cut would wound twice once on them and once on us. The
only exceptions to this are beings that are devoid of vital essence. These we
have no link to, like elementals, undead, or the sad shadows of our goblin
cousins and of course demons and their kin, like gnolls and demonget.
Well the upside to you humans is that once you are dead your senses are
significantly expanded, so there is always that to look forward to.
Ahhh... I sense from your response that my last statement was uncouth… my
apologies. Long life to you! Ah… I sense my words strike you as insincere. Allow
me to offer you a favor whether you know it or not you will have to travel to
the Black Mire. The journey there is as perilous as the place itself unless you
know the right pathways. I will guide you to the edge of the Black Mire when you
are ready and have unlocked the Chalice Gate that leads there.