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[b]Identity[/b]: [i]Lady of the Great Sullied Court, Red Fern, Red Fury, the Queen of Smoke and Sighs.[/i] [url=https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/027/280/983/4k/entei-ryu-entei-ryu-0101.jpg?1591096411]Artistic Depiction.[/url]

[b]Type[/b]: [i]Scion[/i]

[b]Myth[/b]: [i]The Fae are old magic - deep and dark and hidden within the stuff the world is made of. It is said they are even older than the Black God, that in the twilight of time and creation itself - there they were, eyes wide and silent and knowing. Perhaps they are the very essence of magic - they are not things of flesh after all and they are not things of Nature - with which in time they became synonymous in the eyes of all other beings. No, they are old magic, pure and distilled and alive.

When the Black God called upon them it was not out of any great love or loyalty for him that they rallied to his banner, but out of enmity to Man. Ah, Man! That newborn race who thought to tame the wilds and flatten the earth and bore through the mountains and dictate the course of the rivers - where they would flow and where they will not, when they will flood and when they shall not. That newborn race that casually went about the business of exterminating Fae and magic alike. Well, that race had to be made to perish. 

The Fae, divided then into their one hundred and sixty-three Courts, had not been quite agreed on this course of action, but Red Fern, then the Queen of Smoke and Sighs, had known then with an insight all others lacked that there could be no other course. There was no place for magic and the Fae in a world in which Man continued to be. The Fae fought one another then - those 'Unsullied' who would slay themselves that Man may live and slaughter all, and those 'Sullied' that would rid the world of that cancer and let the wilds and all the chaotic beauties of magic loose. The Black God fell, the Unsullied cheered as they cast Red Fern and their Sullied brethren into the Fade... 

And then they cheered no more. Empty are the halls of the Unsullied today. The echoes of laughter are only heard in the halls of memory - [i]our[/i] memory. For we remember. And though they were fools, yet were they [i]our kin[/i]. The Fade grows thin now, and Red Fern - why, [i]Red Fury[/i]! - has for a long time whispered her curses and promises of vengeance into the fabric of the world. We who are Sealed - who were lambasted as Sullied - stir. We rise. We come. The Black God is dead, but we remain - and by our hand alone will be the final abolition of Man.[/i]
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