HOME | DD

Description
Mab Mistleaf knew she was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. None of the other pixies had this much difficulty with the infection, but she always had been a slow learner, almost a hatchling even after these four centuries. The others were leaving Tirae, too disheartened to be fighting their former kin when the land itself was corrupting under their influence. True, there were pockets of resistance, green groves untainted by the magicks weaved by the twisted souls once again serving their terrible ancient creators. Chaos and freedom had always been the way of the fey peoples, especially the pixies with their playful antics, but those that sought to free the Pragur from their prison had been consumed by the entropy, loosing their sanity to the magick rituals meant to release them. It had been so from the earliest of days in their wild realm, but her kin had always been able to keep them contained, a magick barrier ritual formed to give their for siblings and cousins a place to exist not only as a constant reminder to be vigilant against being made to join them, but also as a mercy. The pixies were sometimes cruel to those that transgressed against them, but never their kin. They trapped them in a place separated but still visible in the corner of the eye, hauntingly beautiful but hideously tragic. Occasionally the corrupted pixies, now sprites, flickered through into Tirae again as a young or misguided pixie became too distracted by them or sought to offer one comfort, but they were always pulled back into it after a short bit of mischief. Despite their altered kin's playful antics providing disruption, Mab had always found that sometimes trying to keep them from causing too much trouble was an adventure in and of itself, and she wanted even more, to visit the other realms. She wanted to see the shifting sands of Jhaneer, the stary oceans of Quantil, hallowed mists of Ragsendi, the Somnium Bleed while awake, all of them! That is, until the infected returned from the middle realm.

Mab had heard stories, even as far back as a century ago, but few had believed them. Pixies, twisted by a mere disease to become unable to control their magic, unable to even aid in magick rituals? Preposterous! More that some would fall so far as to have the chaos within consume them, to kill them or worse, turn them into sprites? It was almost heresy, though the rulers of the various courts took notice, not only swearing that it was true instead of hiding it, but insisting that all the tribes and clans be quick to find those infected and try to cure them before it was too late. Many a decade passed before any success was seen in any of those with weaker links to the magic of their home, but with help some were saved. Rather, saved from death, they said, for they shed their old selves to become sprites. Some were brought back to their true nature it was said, though Mab had never met a single one. Even calls upon their deities seemed to fall on deaf ears, as if they had been abandoned in that regard. True, they still offered help, but they refused to answer for why such a disease could be allowed to exist. As far as Mab knew, once a sprite, never a pixie again. Therein lay the crux of the failing magicks separating the sprites from their kin. As more and more grew weak more and more sprites were pushed into that place, and fewer were left to keep up the barrier. Even a mere three hundred and fifty years old, Mab 'the foolish' Mistleaf had known that the barrier would fail, had warned the courts before her own infection had occurred. Quicker than her elders in this one regard, she was still too slow, as a mere four full moons later the barrier fell.

War between the pixies and the sprites bled out into all of Tirae, forcing not only the pixies but many other fey to flee their homelands, worse to flee the realm itself and make way for the middle realm. Word spread quickly of Mab's foretelling and whispers spread that she was a prophet of doom, or that she had intentionally spread up the process to cause it to occur. These were both falsehoods but it had not prevented one desperate infected pixie from coming to her door, begging that she save him from his fate. Unable to muster up even the words to convince him that her skill was too pathetic for that, the infected pixie hissed, his body shuddering as his teeth sharpened, grabbing hold of her and biting her neck. As the venom pumped into her he ripped her wings, her precious iridescent gossamer, consuming them as the infection consumed his being, pain wracking his body worse than any he had ever felt. Mab wailed in anguish, wailed for the loss of her wings, for the corruption coursing through her, and for the loss of the kin whose name she had never even learned. As his body rippled with chaotic energies she ran from her home, not wanting to see his transformation as it happened.

For six seasons Mab ran, unable to find a single fey who could grant her passage to the middle realm. Those who had not left already were as trapped as she, and most as infected, turning to her in desperation, seeking answers, seeking redemption. At first she thought she had none to give them, but looking to the pixies, the goblins, the gitwerg and all the other peoples gathering around her she realized there was one last resort. One desperate chance. She had the kowergen and trolls, for that is what the the Gitwerg and Goblins who had fallen to the infection were now called, both work together to tunnel through their homelands with renewed vigor, gathering up whatever magical foci they could find; amber, foci crystals, moonstone, sunstone, all were drawn together to the intersection of leylines, arranged in part of a vast ritual magick that came to Mab in some fever-dream. Was it an answer from their deities? Mab did not know, but she felt a rightness in it, and those that followed her trusted her. It took another eight seasons to prepare, but on the twilight of Oídhna Shadhche, with the rise of the Full Hunter's Moon, the magick ritual began.

For hours across all of Tirae those that followed Mab 'the wise' Mistleaf, as she had become known, worked with desperation to enact her precise instructions in order to save their homelands. The magick ritual drew on the power of the realm, on the power of the spellweavers and the strength of those unable to use their magic to defend the ritual sites from curious sprites. All through the night the ritual continued, draining the very hopes and dreams of those involved and forming one grand, impossibility. The barrier had been a foolish thing destined to fail and release the sprites back into Tirae. But with their chaotic nature and the flickering attempts of the barrier to draw the sprites back behind the veil lay the answer. Mab clutched her sides, coughing up blood and feeling her teeth growing sharper before once again her closest aides cast their magic to give her a respite. She growled at them, barking orders for them to join the ritual and give some of their kin a break to recharge their energies. She knew she was dying. She had made peace with this fact ever since the fever-dream came to her. As the sun slowly started to rise, hailing the end of Oídhna Shadhche, she joined the ritual for the sixth time that night, her final time.

Though her magic had always been weak when younger, too weak to fight off the infection consuming her now, her determination still pushed her onward, to use that chaotic energy to something more. Finally as she made the last gesture paired with the last incantation she collapsed, writhing in pain as she watched the spell wash over the realm and even bled out into the middle realm through the faint cracks in the veil left behind by those in exodus. The grand ritual spread into every sprite and pixie infected, changing the nature of their corruption, binding the barrier not to pull them back into a hidden place, but to force the flickering to draw them from one realm to another at random, never letting them be able to work long enough to free the Pragur, and even more, to make their warfare futile, drawing out the curious nature that violence had washed over, pulling it to the surface. They weren't cured, but they were much more easily distracted than before. Reaching a hand up toward the moon while she collapsed to the ground, Mab saw a vision of this. As the growing chaos within her cracked and bubbled along her body her aides tried desperately to pour their energies once again into saving her. She merely shook her head, telling them that it had worked and that she was going to join them. Those present wailed as her eyes flashed with one last joyful light and suddenly fell dark, her body slumping and falling silent with one sigh of relief.

For moments there was naught but silence and wailing interchanging between those who had followed her, and then the others that had followed her were called back, to decide what to do with her body. Some argued that she should be buried, others that she be burned in a funeral pyre, still others that she be eternally frozen with a spell, or transfigured into an eternal statue. Her body was brought to to an ancient altar atop a great hill, her followers gathered around it waiting. A spell was used to halt her decay for the time while the gathering grew and they debated and planned to bring forth a vote. She had no direct kin left in all the realm as far as any knew, but still one came forth to claim her body, one whom none would have ever dared imagine would speak before them.

His body flickered into the realm from wherever he had gone when the ritual had succeeded, right in the middle of the debate. The sprite possessed enough faculty of mind despite his nature to beg for his voice to be heard rather than being attacked. Truthfully though some present that day would deny it, it was only after he had bested seven skilled warriors seeking his demise that he was granted such opportunity, but none alive would dare mention it to them. Rather than deciding what to do with her body now that she was deceased, he said, they should release her to what she was meant to be. Murmurs rippled through the crowds in confusion and anger as some realized what he implied, but other sprites started to appear and flicker out amongst them, all torn between grief and desperate hope, adding to the noise with but one desperate plea: to free her. The sprite who had come forth first shuddered, flickering for a moment as he channeled magic into himself and then pushed it into Mab's frozen body, returning the color to it that it possessed as she had died.
"I'm... I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, Mab Mistleaf. For infecting you in my weakness. For the wings I took from you. For all that followed after. Please. Stop hiding inside that husk." He whispered, then took a deep breath and leaned down, kissing her lips, pushing magic into her once again, the chaotic energies spreading across her body once again. As he stepped back, kneeling with head downcast, he waited.

The chaotic magic cracked through her body once more as it had when she died, but this time it shone forth brighter and hotter, forcing those around to step back, save the kneeling sprite. One of her arms twitched and the crowd gasped, the whispers of confusion and hatred for the sprites turning to hope. The skin on the arm sloughed off, brilliant red skin with swirling fire beneath exposed. The arm moved, stiff at first, moving to her chest, pulling on her garments and tearing them off and after her skin. It came off in patches, exposing more and more of her as the growing heat and magic pushed more and more off her body until finally she reached up and pulled off the husk covering her new hair and face. Groggily as she shook her head, rising from the altar, she opened her eyes, flickering for a moment and blinking as she looked out at her followers. A great cheer went out as she looked at them, tears welling up in her glowing eyes and the cheer only rose in volume as the skin on her back sloughed off and a brand new set of wings unfolded itself. The kneeling sprite shuddered, crying in joy that she once again lived, crying at the shameful things that he had done to her what seemed ages ago and yet only yesterday. She looked at him as she took her first couple wobbling steps, confusion on her face and then a soft gasp.
"I know you... You called me back from the abyss." The sprite nodded without raising his head, shaking hands clenched as he remained kneeling.
"Yes."
"You... I remember you. Earlier than that."
"Yes wise Mab." She reached a hand out, placing it on his shoulder. Startled he looked up at her, tears still staining his face.
"You came to me seeking an answer to the infection. I'm sorry it took me so long to come up with one." She said, smiling softly and offering her hand. He wiped his tears away, taking her hand and kissing it, kneeling even deeper. The crowds, sprite and pixie, gitwerg and goblin, kowergen and trolls, all mirrored him, kneeling deep. "Oh my. Please... All of you. I'm... I'm no queen, I have no court."
"That's not true." The kneeling sprite said, rising up and taking her other hand. "We are your court. The court of the frail and forgotten. The court of the fallow and forsaken. The Court of Mab."

The crowd cheered out in unanimous agreement, drawing a blush from the new sprite, their leader, now their Queen Mab. A ceremony would have to be performed as was the nature of the peoples present but all knew it would be coming, even she. Smiling softly and sighing as she looked around once more, she bowed to her people to more cheers, then looked at the sprite that drew her metamorphosis to complete, humming.
"What is your name? I never had the opportunity to learn it when first you came to me." The sprite blinked, blushing.
"It... It was Teasel Pepperfeld before I... Changed. I've been going by Dhuine Chroí since that night though." Queen Mab leaned forward, her lips brushing his softly for a moment. He blinked and blushed in surprise, which drew a hearty laugh from the crowd below.
"I think I prefer Teasel, sprite. Sorrow no longer suits you, nor that name. It's not fitting for a King, now is it?" She teased with a coy smile.
"A King?" Teasel asked, even more confused.
"In courting for now at least... But may-hap. After all, though you mourn what you did before, you had trusted I had answers when even I did not. You pushed me through hardship to find that answer and you rallied the sprites to try to return, to bring me back and draw me out. Those are not the actions of a monster. You were desperate, as were we all."
"But-" Mab put a finger to his lips.
"If Mab 'the foolish' Mistleaf can become not only part of one of the courts but Queen of a new one... Then surely you have proven that any can become a ruler. I trust that you'll not disappoint me in your courtship." She winked at him and looked to the loyal aides that had long tried to save her before the ritual was begun and even through it. The knelt and she pulled them back up, hugging them close.
"What is your first command, O Queen? One asked, drawing a laugh from their former mentor. She spread her wings, flickering for a moment.
"Tell everyone I'll be back in a month. Give or take a few days. We can hold the ceremony then, but for now..." She rose slowly up from the hilltop, giggling and laughing. "I'm going to see just where my wings and the flicker takes me!" She shouted out and buzzed the crowed to great cheering and whooping, circling round as the other sprites rose up from the crowds or flickered out with glee on their faces. She looked back to Teasel, hands cupped to the sides of her mouth as she yelled, "Come on Teasel Pepperfeld! Let's go have an adventure!"

Description
Mab Mistleaf knew she was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. None of the other pixies had this much difficulty with the infection, but she always had been a slow learner, almost a hatchling even after these four centuries. The others were leaving Tirae, too disheartened to be fighting their former kin when the land itself was corrupting under their influence. True, there were pockets of resistance, green groves untainted by the magicks weaved by the twisted souls once again serving their terrible ancient creators. Chaos and freedom had always been the way of the fey peoples, especially the pixies with their playful antics, but those that sought to free the Pragur from their prison had been consumed by the entropy, loosing their sanity to the magick rituals meant to release them. It had been so from the earliest of days in their wild realm, but her kin had always been able to keep them contained, a magick barrier ritual formed to give their for siblings and cousins a place to exist not only as a constant reminder to be vigilant against being made to join them, but also as a mercy. The pixies were sometimes cruel to those that transgressed against them, but never their kin. They trapped them in a place separated but still visible in the corner of the eye, hauntingly beautiful but hideously tragic. Occasionally the corrupted pixies, now sprites, flickered through into Tirae again as a young or misguided pixie became too distracted by them or sought to offer one comfort, but they were always pulled back into it after a short bit of mischief. Despite their altered kin's playful antics providing disruption, Mab had always found that sometimes trying to keep them from causing too much trouble was an adventure in and of itself, and she wanted even more, to visit the other realms. She wanted to see the shifting sands of Jhaneer, the stary oceans of Quantil, hallowed mists of Ragsendi, the Somnium Bleed while awake, all of them! That is, until the infected returned from the middle realm.

Mab had heard stories, even as far back as a century ago, but few had believed them. Pixies, twisted by a mere disease to become unable to control their magic, unable to even aid in magick rituals? Preposterous! More that some would fall so far as to have the chaos within consume them, to kill them or worse, turn them into sprites? It was almost heresy, though the rulers of the various courts took notice, not only swearing that it was true instead of hiding it, but insisting that all the tribes and clans be quick to find those infected and try to cure them before it was too late. Many a decade passed before any success was seen in any of those with weaker links to the magic of their home, but with help some were saved. Rather, saved from death, they said, for they shed their old selves to become sprites. Some were brought back to their true nature it was said, though Mab had never met a single one. Even calls upon their deities seemed to fall on deaf ears, as if they had been abandoned in that regard. True, they still offered help, but they refused to answer for why such a disease could be allowed to exist. As far as Mab knew, once a sprite, never a pixie again. Therein lay the crux of the failing magicks separating the sprites from their kin. As more and more grew weak more and more sprites were pushed into that place, and fewer were left to keep up the barrier. Even a mere three hundred and fifty years old, Mab 'the foolish' Mistleaf had known that the barrier would fail, had warned the courts before her own infection had occurred. Quicker than her elders in this one regard, she was still too slow, as a mere four full moons later the barrier fell.

War between the pixies and the sprites bled out into all of Tirae, forcing not only the pixies but many other fey to flee their homelands, worse to flee the realm itself and make way for the middle realm. Word spread quickly of Mab's foretelling and whispers spread that she was a prophet of doom, or that she had intentionally spread up the process to cause it to occur. These were both falsehoods but it had not prevented one desperate infected pixie from coming to her door, begging that she save him from his fate. Unable to muster up even the words to convince him that her skill was too pathetic for that, the infected pixie hissed, his body shuddering as his teeth sharpened, grabbing hold of her and biting her neck. As the venom pumped into her he ripped her wings, her precious iridescent gossamer, consuming them as the infection consumed his being, pain wracking his body worse than any he had ever felt. Mab wailed in anguish, wailed for the loss of her wings, for the corruption coursing through her, and for the loss of the kin whose name she had never even learned. As his body rippled with chaotic energies she ran from her home, not wanting to see his transformation as it happened.

For six seasons Mab ran, unable to find a single fey who could grant her passage to the middle realm. Those who had not left already were as trapped as she, and most as infected, turning to her in desperation, seeking answers, seeking redemption. At first she thought she had none to give them, but looking to the pixies, the goblins, the gitwerg and all the other peoples gathering around her she realized there was one last resort. One desperate chance. She had the kowergen and trolls, for that is what the the Gitwerg and Goblins who had fallen to the infection were now called, both work together to tunnel through their homelands with renewed vigor, gathering up whatever magical foci they could find; amber, foci crystals, moonstone, sunstone, all were drawn together to the intersection of leylines, arranged in part of a vast ritual magick that came to Mab in some fever-dream. Was it an answer from their deities? Mab did not know, but she felt a rightness in it, and those that followed her trusted her. It took another eight seasons to prepare, but on the twilight of Oídhna Shadhche, with the rise of the Full Hunter's Moon, the magick ritual began.

For hours across all of Tirae those that followed Mab 'the wise' Mistleaf, as she had become known, worked with desperation to enact her precise instructions in order to save their homelands. The magick ritual drew on the power of the realm, on the power of the spellweavers and the strength of those unable to use their magic to defend the ritual sites from curious sprites. All through the night the ritual continued, draining the very hopes and dreams of those involved and forming one grand, impossibility. The barrier had been a foolish thing destined to fail and release the sprites back into Tirae. But with their chaotic nature and the flickering attempts of the barrier to draw the sprites back behind the veil lay the answer. Mab clutched her sides, coughing up blood and feeling her teeth growing sharper before once again her closest aides cast their magic to give her a respite. She growled at them, barking orders for them to join the ritual and give some of their kin a break to recharge their energies. She knew she was dying. She had made peace with this fact ever since the fever-dream came to her. As the sun slowly started to rise, hailing the end of Oídhna Shadhche, she joined the ritual for the sixth time that night, her final time.

Though her magic had always been weak when younger, too weak to fight off the infection consuming her now, her determination still pushed her onward, to use that chaotic energy to something more. Finally as she made the last gesture paired with the last incantation she collapsed, writhing in pain as she watched the spell wash over the realm and even bled out into the middle realm through the faint cracks in the veil left behind by those in exodus. The grand ritual spread into every sprite and pixie infected, changing the nature of their corruption, binding the barrier not to pull them back into a hidden place, but to force the flickering to draw them from one realm to another at random, never letting them be able to work long enough to free the Pragur, and even more, to make their warfare futile, drawing out the curious nature that violence had washed over, pulling it to the surface. They weren't cured, but they were much more easily distracted than before. Reaching a hand up toward the moon while she collapsed to the ground, Mab saw a vision of this. As the growing chaos within her cracked and bubbled along her body her aides tried desperately to pour their energies once again into saving her. She merely shook her head, telling them that it had worked and that she was going to join them. Those present wailed as her eyes flashed with one last joyful light and suddenly fell dark, her body slumping and falling silent with one sigh of relief.

For moments there was naught but silence and wailing interchanging between those who had followed her, and then the others that had followed her were called back, to decide what to do with her body. Some argued that she should be buried, others that she be burned in a funeral pyre, still others that she be eternally frozen with a spell, or transfigured into an eternal statue. Her body was brought to to an ancient altar atop a great hill, her followers gathered around it waiting. A spell was used to halt her decay for the time while the gathering grew and they debated and planned to bring forth a vote. She had no direct kin left in all the realm as far as any knew, but still one came forth to claim her body, one whom none would have ever dared imagine would speak before them.

His body flickered into the realm from wherever he had gone when the ritual had succeeded, right in the middle of the debate. The sprite possessed enough faculty of mind despite his nature to beg for his voice to be heard rather than being attacked. Truthfully though some present that day would deny it, it was only after he had bested seven skilled warriors seeking his demise that he was granted such opportunity, but none alive would dare mention it to them. Rather than deciding what to do with her body now that she was deceased, he said, they should release her to what she was meant to be. Murmurs rippled through the crowds in confusion and anger as some realized what he implied, but other sprites started to appear and flicker out amongst them, all torn between grief and desperate hope, adding to the noise with but one desperate plea: to free her. The sprite who had come forth first shuddered, flickering for a moment as he channeled magic into himself and then pushed it into Mab's frozen body, returning the color to it that it possessed as she had died.
"I'm... I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, Mab Mistleaf. For infecting you in my weakness. For the wings I took from you. For all that followed after. Please. Stop hiding inside that husk." He whispered, then took a deep breath and leaned down, kissing her lips, pushing magic into her once again, the chaotic energies spreading across her body once again. As he stepped back, kneeling with head downcast, he waited.

The chaotic magic cracked through her body once more as it had when she died, but this time it shone forth brighter and hotter, forcing those around to step back, save the kneeling sprite. One of her arms twitched and the crowd gasped, the whispers of confusion and hatred for the sprites turning to hope. The skin on the arm sloughed off, brilliant red skin with swirling fire beneath exposed. The arm moved, stiff at first, moving to her chest, pulling on her garments and tearing them off and after her skin. It came off in patches, exposing more and more of her as the growing heat and magic pushed more and more off her body until finally she reached up and pulled off the husk covering her new hair and face. Groggily as she shook her head, rising from the altar, she opened her eyes, flickering for a moment and blinking as she looked out at her followers. A great cheer went out as she looked at them, tears welling up in her glowing eyes and the cheer only rose in volume as the skin on her back sloughed off and a brand new set of wings unfolded itself. The kneeling sprite shuddered, crying in joy that she once again lived, crying at the shameful things that he had done to her what seemed ages ago and yet only yesterday. She looked at him as she took her first couple wobbling steps, confusion on her face and then a soft gasp.
"I know you... You called me back from the abyss." The sprite nodded without raising his head, shaking hands clenched as he remained kneeling.
"Yes."
"You... I remember you. Earlier than that."
"Yes wise Mab." She reached a hand out, placing it on his shoulder. Startled he looked up at her, tears still staining his face.
"You came to me seeking an answer to the infection. I'm sorry it took me so long to come up with one." She said, smiling softly and offering her hand. He wiped his tears away, taking her hand and kissing it, kneeling even deeper. The crowds, sprite and pixie, gitwerg and goblin, kowergen and trolls, all mirrored him, kneeling deep. "Oh my. Please... All of you. I'm... I'm no queen, I have no court."
"That's not true." The kneeling sprite said, rising up and taking her other hand. "We are your court. The court of the frail and forgotten. The court of the fallow and forsaken. The Court of Mab."

The crowd cheered out in unanimous agreement, drawing a blush from the new sprite, their leader, now their Queen Mab. A ceremony would have to be performed as was the nature of the peoples present but all knew it would be coming, even she. Smiling softly and sighing as she looked around once more, she bowed to her people to more cheers, then looked at the sprite that drew her metamorphosis to complete, humming.
"What is your name? I never had the opportunity to learn it when first you came to me." The sprite blinked, blushing.
"It... It was Teasel Pepperfeld before I... Changed. I've been going by Dhuine Chroí since that night though." Queen Mab leaned forward, her lips brushing his softly for a moment. He blinked and blushed in surprise, which drew a hearty laugh from the crowd below.
"I think I prefer Teasel, sprite. Sorrow no longer suits you, nor that name. It's not fitting for a King, now is it?" She teased with a coy smile.
"A King?" Teasel asked, even more confused.
"In courting for now at least... But may-hap. After all, though you mourn what you did before, you had trusted I had answers when even I did not. You pushed me through hardship to find that answer and you rallied the sprites to try to return, to bring me back and draw me out. Those are not the actions of a monster. You were desperate, as were we all."
"But-" Mab put a finger to his lips.
"If Mab 'the foolish' Mistleaf can become not only part of one of the courts but Queen of a new one... Then surely you have proven that any can become a ruler. I trust that you'll not disappoint me in your courtship." She winked at him and looked to the loyal aides that had long tried to save her before the ritual was begun and even through it. The knelt and she pulled them back up, hugging them close.
"What is your first command, O Queen? One asked, drawing a laugh from their former mentor. She spread her wings, flickering for a moment.
"Tell everyone I'll be back in a month. Give or take a few days. We can hold the ceremony then, but for now..." She rose slowly up from the hilltop, giggling and laughing. "I'm going to see just where my wings and the flicker takes me!" She shouted out and buzzed the crowed to great cheering and whooping, circling round as the other sprites rose up from the crowds or flickered out with glee on their faces. She looked back to Teasel, hands cupped to the sides of her mouth as she yelled, "Come on Teasel Pepperfeld! Let's go have an adventure!"