It was a crystal-clear night. Not a cloud obscured the jeweled skies above, and the moon was a heavyset orb in the sky, round and swollen with the magic that swirled in the air. It was so potent that all a mortal had to do was inhale deeply, and it would drunken and dull their senses. Any human unfortunate enough to fall pray to such a stupor would be whisked away almost immediately into the depths of that round grassy hill, into a world of calamity. And such would be the end of them. Faeries showed no mercy toward the likes of mortals. They were looked upon as rats, some of them intelligent enough to maybe play with for a while. Sometimes these were the ones to be truly pitied.
Let us leave this glamour-thickened air. A door opens on one side of the hill, carved so intricately it could only be magic. Inside we go, into the crowded hall of the Unseelie Court. Upon first glance it is a hall of merriment and life, celebration and laughter. This is not the case. Upon closer inspection, things begin to reveal themselves for what they truly are: Smiles are actually gruesome leers, a bottle that might have harbored wine really contains a quart of human blood, and the leg of chicken on a faerie's plate is a glamoured leg of another sprite. It is a hall of carnage and greed, filled with creatures clamoring for blood.
In the front of the hall is a throne. Seated upon this throne is a faerie with wicked laughter in his eyes, perhaps the wickedest of all these creatures. They have gathered under his command to celebrate his crowning as their new king. Nicnevin is dead, and Naphamael has claimed her lands as his own. Many of the Unseelie Court think it a perfect arrangement. Who was better suited than Lord Naphamael to rule the Night Court's lands?
The answer is no one. Naphamael, who wears a cloak of thorns, who sports a band of iron that burns deep into his brow, is the toughest of the faeries of this generation. Save perhaps his new knight, Roiben. But Naphamael made sure that Roiben's lowly position would stay that way. He would allow no one to overtake his throne.
A thin smile graces his lips as he gazes down upon his Court with fondness. He stands, spreading his arms wide as though to embrace every faerie that occupies his hall. His dark hair slips past his iron crown and obscures his vision; he shakes it back with an impatient but graceful gesture. The entire hall quickly falls silent, as though the very walls were holding their breath. Naphamael cannot help a smug expression at their immediate obedience.
"Faeries of the Night Court," he begins, keeping his arms outstretched. "Did I not promise you entertainment?"
A loud roar of excitement swells up from the crowd. They immediately begin chattering, and Naphamael can see the bloodthirsty expressions on each of their faces.
"I do believe an introduction is in order. May I present Roiben, my loyal and obedient knight?" He lowers his arms and gestures with his left hand, giving the signal. A tall, muscular man enters the hall. His head is bowed low, face obscured by long silver locks. Naphamael eyes his prize with pleasure, lips curling in a smile. Ghoulish expressions steal over the faeries' faces as they press closer together for a better look at this marvelous specimen.
"Roiben," Naphamael begins, turning toward his slave. "You are being impolite. Come, introduce yourself! Stop hiding that pretty face." Cruel amusement twists his features, and the corners of his mouth twitch. The faeries grin as well; they know what sort of things their Lord did for pleasure. And it makes them all the more excited for it.
Faeries are typically thought of as sweet, charming creatures that come into your house at night and do you small favors. After what you've seen, after what rests in store for Roiben the Knight, perhaps your opinion of these elusive creatures will change. Maybe you will see the bloodthirsty imps for what they truly are.
A/N: An introduction to a Tithe roleplay. I liked it. xD
