Sometimes, the Fair Folk are the least of your worries.
Forty years ago, a Dragon-Blooded sorceress made a journey that skirted the Wyld, flying on a cloud. From this vantage point, she saw an archipelago that loosely resembled a supine figure, half-submerged in the sapphire waters. She made a note of this place as she passed it by, and when she spoke of it to other Princes of the Earth familiar with the region, they informed her that she was not the first to stumble across it.
A pair of Dragon-Blooded, they told her, had visited it in the past; the one retainer who returned gibbered about the tides of the Wyld bringing in a scalding-hot rain that boiled the flesh from the bones of his masters, and how he had survived, scarred and burned, under one of their overturned boats until the rains had subsided.
The sorceress feared not, for her Aspect was fire; she set out for the isles again, and found that they were in fact peopled. The sturdy structures they built could resist the rains from the Wyld. These strange folk were human, but bore the mark of raksha ancestry; moreover, by some means they were able to command the native beasts, in whose features she also observed the marks of the Wyld. The most talented could even commune with the Wyld-tainted elemental spirits; bonding themselves with dryads that more resembled animal than person, the amorphous poison-gods of brackish ponds, or feathered greenmaws.
Their language was a pidgin of the region's tribal tongues and the dialect of Old Realm spoken by the fae; though communication was a difficult barrier, the sorceress came to understand that the people held a special reverence for the archipelago, invoking its name in their tongue when speaking oaths as others might name gods. They obviously held some superstitions regarding the Fair Folk, for though they had not encountered any in generations, most could be observed wearing charms of iron on their person.
Their food, she found, was strange but not without its appeal; the natives would grow plump green fruits, which they would leave out for the scalding rains to boil - puncturing these would yield a viscous but sweet drink, while the flesh would be discarded.
The sorceress' findings never found their way back to the Dragon-Blooded, for on her return journey she was caught in a conflict with a Lunar Exalt, who forced her into the sea. The Lunar is still studying her notes, intent on sharing the discovery with her friends in the Silver Pact.
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