IGN: MooshroommanicCharacter Name: Yarrow NeredasXP: 200Game or Games Entering: Grand Challenge

[!]  Posted on the various noticeboards throughout the Spire is a document from the Militia. [!] Unidentified Cadavers Three Voidling cadavers were discovered within the center of the Spire on the 7th of Firstide. Initially brought to the hospital for a quick inspection, they have been relocated to the Militia Barracks to conserve space. The cause of death at this time is unknown. Residents of the Spire are encouraged to visit the Militia Barracks to attempt to identify all three J. Does. Burial will occur in three days if they are not identified by then. - Levy Alderson

The Academic's Guide to Fey | Vol. 2 Magister of the Spire Petrus, Y. Neredas, and Ser Maliketh | Darkmoon 26, 1641 Dedicated to Elspeth Currenous Preface: This paper is the result of months of difficult research, close calls with Fey, unfortunate dealings, and the many lives of those that have been turned upside down by Fey. The purpose of this paper is to prove insight into Fey and the minutia of their existence, as well as the results of our research together. Unfortunately, the majority of our research is still compromised, under heavy scrutiny by Fey that do not wish the information to be in the public. This unfortunate circumstance prevents information deemed too important to the Fey to be physically comprehensible. For example: At their core, Fey are simply pme ffneprmni tsfups. Luckily, oral translation gets around this; If you seek deeper insight into the Fey, find Yarrow Neredas at the Magister's office within the town hall.   ★ Fey of Near Drought may at times draw mortals into their ranks. ★ A poetic passage: Where Monsoon still permits escape and Drought leaves something to wither, Hibernal unthreads the loom itself, knot by careful knot.  ★ A small tale about a fey-touched man that was horridly flirty. He flirted with a Naiad; She feigned interest and told him to meet her on a boat. The man drowned and his corpse was found washed ashore, a fish biting on his lips. One more indicator that any romantic feelings fey profess are entirely falsified. ★ The fey are not often cooperative with each other, and in fact fight against each other frequently in two main ways. One is the ‘War of Courts’, and the other is the ‘War of Ecumene.’ Both of these terms require further investigation, especially the latter. ★ A small tale of a young man who happened upon a rather talkative fey known as Those-Who-Converse. Of note in the passage, is mention of the young man offering his given name freely, and instead of it being taken, as is typically expected of many fey, offering it instead earned the young man no small amount of favour, and the two met up repeatedly to have relatively mundane conversations for many years until the man's passing. ★ The Fey Coterie are three fey that often travel together and are known to act as patrons like Nyx once did. It seems they saw the vacuum in the spire and sought to fill it with themselves, though they have mild rivalries, they would rather work together to face any who would seek to oppose even one of them. ★ A few laws of hospitality that are important to keep in mind when regarding those of low and far drought. Some rules include requiring a proper invitation before entering, protecting your guest, bringing a gift for the host, and having good manners but not letting the fey know you feel indebted. ★ A bit of information on low/far monsoon, court of hunters. They're notorious for being that of dark fairytales... Ones people warn their children to not wander off the road for... But, they also follow the path of true names, and holding a true name gives more power than any name. A little note tacked on the bottom of the paper the information was written on: Watch out for the will-o-wisps, they could lead to a boon or bane. ★ A short list of spells that might be able to harm fey, such as Pierce Penumbra, Crawling Hex, Paralysis Demon, Scorch, Kinetic Array, Kinetic Spike, Baffle, White Noise, Shriek, Arcane Lash, Magmatism, and Tongue Tie. Highly valuable information. ★ Not all fey can take names, and it is a rather rare ability few possess. ★ A page that reads of a fey who, when spoken to, accidentally let their true name slip. The person who had the name gained power over the fey. It seems most Fey seem to use some sort of alias in place of their real name for mortals and other beings to ‘refer’ to them as. This is why most fey tell people they ‘may’ refer to them. It is not a lie to suggest one might decide to speak about a fey without using their actual name, and protects their true name. It also implies having a fey’s true name will give one great power over that fey. ★ Something to do with counting. I struggled to see the meaning behind it, but countless papers had suddenly flown into my face and I was begotten with papercuts. The first page read ‘You can count on it’, so perhaps counting numbers has some correlation to fey? ★ Some fey cannot refuse games. The stakes must be agreed upon beforehand, but a victory over a fey that commits to games is a great advantage against them. ★ Fey cannot lie. It is the one 'law' that holds them together. To challenge them to be a liar is to challenge their entire identity and purpose. If they are proven to be a liar, they suffer loss of self, true death, and transition to the Court of Hibernal. An example is the recent defeat of the Salesman, or Quince & Thrice. The following are notes, research anecdotes, and small tales that were not deemed as informatively valuable by our team. A fey known by the name ‘It-Which-Always-Climbs’ deals mainly in the Northern Kingdoms, and enjoys cheese from cattle in Sharuul. Naiads in Ko’ram often enjoy music being played for them. A fey known by the name ‘Ship-Wreck-Man’ wanders near the Mistan Isles, offering ferry rides to people free of charge. Then, the boat sinks with everyone aboard. Its title is always introduced first, so any passengers should heed caution. A few short paragraphs describing an almost fanfiction-esque fiction between two fey. A fey known by the name ‘Pearls-Of-Truth’ was infamous for taking people’s ideas or imaginations, turning them into pearls and wearing them as jewelry. This Fey was proven a liar at some point, all its deals were rendered void, and it was lost to Hibernal. A fey known by the name ‘Kills-Many-Rodents’ constantly kills squirrels and rats, leaving them at the doorsteps of those that wronged them, as gifts, or as trash. A short remark about a nondescript grove that turns those that enter it into stone. A Naiad has made their domain a pool in the grounds of some noble in Sanguifleur. A fey known by the name ‘Rocks-From-Above’ has made it’s domain in a valley. Travelers who ignore warning signs of rock slides are crushed by boulders sent down by the fey. A fey known by the name ‘She-Who-Surfs’, a fey of the ocean’s waves. She frequently rides them on a wooden board. Oddly, the fey seems bound to a physical aspect of the world, and doesn’t seem to have the ability to go to the ether. It seems some fey cannot go to the ether. A small handwritten letter from a young girl with sloppy handwriting. She drew a picture with a small doll-like creature. It reads, ‘Made new friend today! Likes playing dolls, hope it play with me more!’ Perhaps alluding to some doll-fey.  

[!] Whispers in the night spread in hushed tones throughout the tavern the next day. In the dead quiet of moonlight, a woman with silver hair was seen stuck up with arrows, deathly pale and bleeding. A man in black napped her up, shackles and all. She was pulled off, deep into the darkness. Surely, if mothers are to leave their children out to play at night then that shadowed specter of a figure will snatch them up too.  And those that know of the fear in the Spire know that this was no ordinary reaper... ...But the Rieper. Or so the rumors say.

[ ! ]An untitled poem, authorless.     You are a toy.   You are the coin that is passed between the merchant’s fingers.   You are the blood that is pumped to knit the wound.   You are the ink that is used to write ledgers.   You are the grape that is crushed for wine.   You are the food the moth eats to bat its wings.   You are the mud the rain displaces to form a puddle.   You are the spelt that is harvested.   You are the charcoal burned to smelt silver.   You are the tools they use for their war.   Yours is the blood that is spilt.   Yours are the babes that are hidden.   Yours is the name that is stolen.   Yours is the soul that is claimed.   You are not a partner.   You are not equal.   You are a toy.   And toys are discarded once they’re used up.