Tales Dark and Grimm
Long before man or dwarf took his first breath, when the First World was but newly sprung from the bosom of existence, the fey walked the primal woods and frolicked in fields of splendor only glimpsed now in the wildest of dreams. Sages say their world fell in a cataclysm next to which such calamities as earthquakes, tempests, and volcanoes pale in comparison. Although their world is gone, they linger still, hiding in knots of trees, the shadow of an oak stump, beneath the frog’s lily, and even in the whisper of the wind. They have watched us for millennia.
Few have ever seen a fey, but those who do encounter them speak to their mercurial nature. The children of the First World possess both love and wrath in proportions that far exceed the temperament of any mortal creature. They find delight in all things, and the more intense the experience, the better. They are the incarnation of innocence one moment and sinister beyond measure the next. They are wonders at play and sensual when pleased—but when their ire is raised the vengeance they exact is pure nightmare.