[align=center]"Country folk warn all weary travelers
To steer well clear of the dark forest road.
Legends fill the hushed yew wood with terrors
Lurking in the grey mists and dim shadows.
Wicked creatures strive to lead men astray
And force them to join their black wanderings." [/align]
[align=justify:cc702a0a0e]The forest was dark and deep. Where shadows crept and never starlight kissed. Only shards of moonlight managed to scatter down through the cathedral of trees, highlighting a path leading through the old oak grove. Many had been warned not to enter these forests, stories and legends of hideous beasts ready and eager to snare with their long gnarled limbs. To drag them into the earth. Make them perish to a graven kiss. Every now and then mindless small humans skipped along this path, even leaving it to the tisks and tuts of their parents. Stomping on the rings of mushrooms, laughing as if no evil or wrath would befall them. How mistaken could they be?
None of the Unseelie had qualms with making sure these small humans became 'missed', feared as lost in the darkness of grove and wilderness. The maws of a wolf would be far gentler than the stranglehold of the ancient trees who obeyed their command. How the earth could swallow them whole, leaving only a shoe or ribbon to mark what the larger humans feared. Every now and then they would hear the echoes of names rebounding through the forest, the wreaths of flowers left to mourn make minutes of amusement to pluck and wither. Covering over the footsteps with an unnoticeable breeze, gathering the leaves to seal their fates. Laughing with nature as they walked in circles, lost to the world they knew. Stepping into a nightmare where they would wish themselves dead.
...dead. Just another soul lingering, another body never found. Humans were a means to their own end and the Unseelie despised them with their vile, dark essences. Any misfortune enough to incur the wrath of the hordes were gathered up and taken for a ride into the lands of the fey. Their feeble minds gripping fear and insanity with next to no force, manipulation- only that none of them seemed to adore pain very well. Lady Rat could never really understand it, but she loved to inflict it at every given chance. Beating... pinching... biting... those inflicted to a death that left a sweet taste upon her tongue that no honeysuckle could ever compare to. She drank their fear as if it were elderflower wine. The genocide of these creatures would be her ultimate glory, what she strived in with every mortal death ushered by her toxic breath and hateful hands. Her prey, her food for thought.
She never thought twice of kidnapping infants from their beds, taking them back to the darkness of her lands only to turn them into hideous little goblins. To be her slaves, bring her more children to advance the Unseelie Hordes under her command. She never thought twice about smothering them either. Frst pinching them hard so they awoke screaming in their beds only to be met with a cold cruel hand or the thickness of their covers rising in the night, moving over to smother before the world would go black. Lady Rat had no qualms of magically taking their voices and sight so they would be mute until their last dying breath.
Taking their eyes had always been a special treat. Whatever was prized the most by the family, beauty or wealth... it too would turn to ashes. Fade and die before their eyes. Wilting the harvest, souring the milk, animals mysteriously drained of all essence, blood and organ. Laying there like dehydrated skins and bones, all in the course of the night. Mere parlor tricks but enough to show displeasure of their tarnishing presences. She had no tolerance of humans; none were looked upon with kindness or sympathy. Just abhorrence of the darkest nature.
As far as Lady Rat thought, there was no peace amongst the Unseelie and the Seelie, she would do everything in her power to prevent these feebleminded whims. She craved death and death would be what the Court would have, no mistake, no mercy, no exceptions. Lady Rat was of the Nightmare Fey, full of envy, greed and malevolence; it was not possible for any to mistake her kin for everything they touched waned and emaciated. They would starve before the winter came and any who remained would be met with the sidhe of the wild hunt. Scattered up with the shadows and dispersed amongst the stars. Creatures of the dreaming⦠believing even the Dreaming has deserted them, not wanting to attempt the merging of the Dreaming with the Mortal World unlike the Seelie.
Lady Rat wanted nothing of the reclamation of Arcadia, as far as she was concerned- she would rather see it burn. Banality, the antithesis of Glamour. It is the power of human disbelief and mundanity, it is characterized and given strength by a lack of imagination or hope. It is harmful, even deadly, to Changelings, Chimera, and all creatures similarly composed of Glamour (an active energy which leads to active effects: Glamour is the stuff that dreams are made of. Much like Quintessence. The most simplistic definition is that Glamour is creativity, though some prefer to push it in further directions, as they argue it could also come from hope, faith, belief in the unbelievable, fear, uncertainty, or spontaneity).
Nothing lasts forever, and the smallest spin of the wheel of fortune/misfortune could mean their extinction or the extinction of mankind- she preferred the latter. Passion before duty and honor is a lie. The world holds no place for ancient virtues like honor, now a flimsy thin veil of paint to cover the emptiness behind a great deal of traditions. Only the truth could be attained though one's own self interest. To deny the passions is to deny the Unseelie essence. This leads to stagnation. A profanity to the Unseelie Court. Samhain to Beltaine were to be her times of glory. To hunt, seek and destroy. Her time of darkness and the hunt would soon begin. [/align:cc702a0a0e]
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