"Once we were a thousand separate kingdoms, spread over a hundred magic worlds. We were kings and cobblers. Wizards or woodcarvers. We had our sinners, our saints, and our blatant social climbers. And from our grandest lord to the lowliest peasant girl, we were, for the most part, strangers one to another. It took an invasion to unite us. Beyond the farthest shores of Never, the Adversary lived in a remote kingdom, ignored by other powers as his strength and ambitions grew over the long centuries."
"Some say he was a mere woodland sprite, while others claim he was once a god thrown down from the vast heavens when his corruptions had become too great for his lofty brethren to tolerate. Whatever his true origins, he grew into a dark thing of infinite hunger. And after he'd conquered his own lands, putting each of its former kings to the sword, he turned his unquenchable appetites in our direction."
"When the emerald kingdom fell we tisk-tisked and tut-tutted in our homes sad for the fates of those unfortunate souls, but we weren't tempted to intervene. After all, they were always odd folks, and ever so far away. It wasn't our business. Then the kingdom of the great lion fell, and again we did nothing, because we always found the old lion to be too pompous and holier-than-thou for our tastes. And one by one, our scattered lands fell under the Adversary's dominion, swallowed up into his ever growing empire. Had we banded together early, we might have been able to stop him. By the time we realized that he wasn't merely interested in conquering that land, or those people, that he was coming after all of us, it was too late. He'd grown too powerful."
"Many of us didn't have the chance to run. Some of us survived. Too few. Alone, or in small groups, over the span of many years, of lifetimes, we hid and ran and avoided capture. We lived as outlaws and phantoms. Until we could make our way here, to this dreary mundane place: The one world the Adversary seemed to take no interest in. And here, united by our common enemy, we learned to set aside old grudges. We forgave our many grievances, to make covenant with each other. And now, predator and prey, prince and pauper, we are all of a single community allied in our undying memory of the Homelands, and the unshakable determination that one day we will return to win those lands free of the hated one. Ladies and gentlemen, lift your glasses and join me, please, in the drinking this toast. To the Homelands!"
"Elsewhere throughout the city, tonight, in private homes and treasured public places and in the upstate homes, where our more inhuman members dwell other glasses are raised, by those who couldn't be with us here tonight but are still citizens of Fabletown, and are equally determined never to forget."
The warm, calming voice of a older gentleman filled the extravagant hall, drowning out the silent mummers and shuffling of the other occupants of the room. The origin of the voice was a jolly looking fellow who stood behind a podium that overlooked the mingling crowd. His kind eyes looked over the guests as they applauded the speech he had just finished given, just as they did every year when he gave it, all the way back years upon years ago when he first gave it. For the grey haired, slightly heavy set gentleman was no other than King Cole himself, the very same King Cole who had served as the mayor of the secret community of Fabletown ever since its founding centuries ago. And it was this community that he had the fortune of overseeing this night of their most cherished event Remembrance Day, the day they honored what was lost during the tragic events that lead to the abandoning of their lands.
The evening was in full swing. Men fitted in their finest suits danced with woman dressed so elegantly they look as if they stepped out of a fairytale, which they might as well have. The band played a lively tune, allowing those who wished to dance if they wished to. Servers made their way through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and appetizers to the guests. The feel of the whole event was simply thrilling, this undoubtedly being the largest social gathering all year. There were smiles and conversations between friends, dances and whispers exchanged between lovers, laughs and cheers over old exploits. All of which only served to add to the joyous feel in the air.
--------------------
"Why do I keep coming to this thing? Same speech every year, same crowd, and same damn lousy music." A lanky, dark haired fellow muttered under his breath as he scanned over the other mingling guests from his spot next to a buffet table covered in little finger foods. He looked less than enthused to be present at this event, the bored look read clear on his pale face. This also reflected on his attire, where's the other gentlemen looked as if they put fine care into their appearance this fellow seemed as if he just rolled out of bed. The jacket he wore was a size too big for him, his pants wrinkled beyond belief, his shoes duller than dirt, and his tie loosely hung around his neck, it was a miracle that his clothes even matched in their black color. The man looked over his shoulder before reaching into his coat and pulling out silver flask, a skull engraved to its side. If anyone could manage to get a whiff of the flask's contents they would immediately be able to tell that it was a very strong whiskey. He took a swig of the flask, closing his eyes to savor the burn, before he stashed it back into his coat. "Okay Boogie, lets see if you can make it through another one of these parties."
"Some say he was a mere woodland sprite, while others claim he was once a god thrown down from the vast heavens when his corruptions had become too great for his lofty brethren to tolerate. Whatever his true origins, he grew into a dark thing of infinite hunger. And after he'd conquered his own lands, putting each of its former kings to the sword, he turned his unquenchable appetites in our direction."
"When the emerald kingdom fell we tisk-tisked and tut-tutted in our homes sad for the fates of those unfortunate souls, but we weren't tempted to intervene. After all, they were always odd folks, and ever so far away. It wasn't our business. Then the kingdom of the great lion fell, and again we did nothing, because we always found the old lion to be too pompous and holier-than-thou for our tastes. And one by one, our scattered lands fell under the Adversary's dominion, swallowed up into his ever growing empire. Had we banded together early, we might have been able to stop him. By the time we realized that he wasn't merely interested in conquering that land, or those people, that he was coming after all of us, it was too late. He'd grown too powerful."
"Many of us didn't have the chance to run. Some of us survived. Too few. Alone, or in small groups, over the span of many years, of lifetimes, we hid and ran and avoided capture. We lived as outlaws and phantoms. Until we could make our way here, to this dreary mundane place: The one world the Adversary seemed to take no interest in. And here, united by our common enemy, we learned to set aside old grudges. We forgave our many grievances, to make covenant with each other. And now, predator and prey, prince and pauper, we are all of a single community allied in our undying memory of the Homelands, and the unshakable determination that one day we will return to win those lands free of the hated one. Ladies and gentlemen, lift your glasses and join me, please, in the drinking this toast. To the Homelands!"
"Elsewhere throughout the city, tonight, in private homes and treasured public places and in the upstate homes, where our more inhuman members dwell other glasses are raised, by those who couldn't be with us here tonight but are still citizens of Fabletown, and are equally determined never to forget."
The warm, calming voice of a older gentleman filled the extravagant hall, drowning out the silent mummers and shuffling of the other occupants of the room. The origin of the voice was a jolly looking fellow who stood behind a podium that overlooked the mingling crowd. His kind eyes looked over the guests as they applauded the speech he had just finished given, just as they did every year when he gave it, all the way back years upon years ago when he first gave it. For the grey haired, slightly heavy set gentleman was no other than King Cole himself, the very same King Cole who had served as the mayor of the secret community of Fabletown ever since its founding centuries ago. And it was this community that he had the fortune of overseeing this night of their most cherished event Remembrance Day, the day they honored what was lost during the tragic events that lead to the abandoning of their lands.
The evening was in full swing. Men fitted in their finest suits danced with woman dressed so elegantly they look as if they stepped out of a fairytale, which they might as well have. The band played a lively tune, allowing those who wished to dance if they wished to. Servers made their way through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and appetizers to the guests. The feel of the whole event was simply thrilling, this undoubtedly being the largest social gathering all year. There were smiles and conversations between friends, dances and whispers exchanged between lovers, laughs and cheers over old exploits. All of which only served to add to the joyous feel in the air.
--------------------
"Why do I keep coming to this thing? Same speech every year, same crowd, and same damn lousy music." A lanky, dark haired fellow muttered under his breath as he scanned over the other mingling guests from his spot next to a buffet table covered in little finger foods. He looked less than enthused to be present at this event, the bored look read clear on his pale face. This also reflected on his attire, where's the other gentlemen looked as if they put fine care into their appearance this fellow seemed as if he just rolled out of bed. The jacket he wore was a size too big for him, his pants wrinkled beyond belief, his shoes duller than dirt, and his tie loosely hung around his neck, it was a miracle that his clothes even matched in their black color. The man looked over his shoulder before reaching into his coat and pulling out silver flask, a skull engraved to its side. If anyone could manage to get a whiff of the flask's contents they would immediately be able to tell that it was a very strong whiskey. He took a swig of the flask, closing his eyes to savor the burn, before he stashed it back into his coat. "Okay Boogie, lets see if you can make it through another one of these parties."