The Siege of the Autumn Palace (DnD Story)
(This is an Ancient Saga retold by Bards and Skalds across the Solstice Isles of the birth of the Unseelie court of fae, the betrayal of the Elves of Autumn (An-Fomhar Sidhe) by the Norse invaders, the creation of the orcs or is it Korks? the Dullahan, the Redcaps, the drow, the Fachan, the Boggarts, the slaugh and the Banshee, The Nukalvee, The Cu-Sith and the many other fae of the unseelie and their hatred for most of humanity... though these stories and plays are generally full of contradictions, paradoxes, plot holes and so forth they still are considered exciting and amazing retellings of the most ancient of histories of the Isles.)
"What went wrong? How did the Norsemen become our enemies? What were once humble fishermen, sailors, farmers and merchants who traded with the tribal Pict (human) tribes is now marching upon our Mountain stronghold of Dun Fomhar and are besieging our Palace of the Autumn Equinox. They even brought a small host of barbaric frost giants... they were once loyal servants who happily paid tithings to the throne of the An-Fomhar-Sidhe... but now they besiege our oaken gates?"
Lord Arawnn sadly mumbled to himself. He was an elderly Archfey of ancient Eladrin Stock (Eladrin are elven aristocrats who have metamorphisized antlers, flowers, vines and or even butterfly wings to symbolize their authority over fae kind). He sipped his spiced mead from an elegant, silvered drinking horn... some of the finest mead in all the solstice isles. tears slowly waltzed down his taught face from the horrors he witnessed today... proud and noble elven knights, rent to bloody pieces by crude and heavy cold iron axes and spears... their Vixen mounts hacked to bloody pieces. Stalwart Boggins (type of halfling) and Cluricans (type of dwarf) who were stalwart infantry where run through with brutish broadswords or crushed by great boulders flung by barbaric ice giants.
He looked out from the vantage point on the the tallest tower in Dun-Fomhar to see the sad state of the Nordic invasion. The mountain fortress and palace of the Elves of Autumn (Fomhar-Sidhe) was besieged from all sides... the nords loudly thundering their cold-iron maces and axes against the wooden shields and chanting in unison. Their Frost giant masters flung massive boulders that crashed against the granite walls of Dun Fomhar (The Autumn Stronghold) and with each tower toppled or wall that was shattered from the onslaught, the roar of the norsemen rose like a great wave from the artic seas of their homelands of johtunhiem.
How long did the children of Autumn and in Winter have? Lord Arawn heard from scouts that the Yule Isles were also besieged by a massive Nordic fleet of warships. The Nollag-Sidhe were distant cousins to the An-Fomar Sidhe and their fortress of Dun-Geimhreadh was also besieged, "How did Lady Morrigan fair? Clearly she must be as saddened by this betrayal as I" He spoke to himself yet again bitterly.
An elven knight-errant burst into his royal chambers, gasping for air, he was ranked as a Fiannu, and was given a swift flying Zephyr (a large predatory bird like a hawk or falcon but is nimble with wings/tail like a sparrow) as a mount. These most elite of knights flew swiftly from Sidhe (Elven) kingdoms across the Solstice Isles delivering messages to the lords and ladys of the fae in their seasonal palaces.
"Knight Rhys, Errant Knight and Silver Paladin of the Order of the Crescent Moon!" the knight snapped to attention and saluted the Elderly lord Arawn. "The Three Crones have heard your summons and they have arrived sir. They await your council in the courtyard below! Dun-Geimhreadh has already fallen milord!" He then quickly bowed and took a knee to the elderly arch-fey. As lord Arawn walked by he could see the beautiful bronze plates and scales of Knight Rhys armor was pock marked with arrows and rent with holes...he must have gone through an ordeal even in the skies to have delivered this message. yet still the armor was lovely to look upon, with sweeping organic curves and silver wire innately smelted and worked into the groves of both the armor and the knight's longsword.
Lord Arwann quickly bowed his head to this paragon of elven knighthood and was quickly escorted to the courtyard... there they where simply standing there... three giant crones as tall as four men standing upon each other's shoulders, they looked both elderly and weakened but also carried the great strength of giant in their stout limbs for they hailed from the land of giants and are kin to the johtuns who dwell in johtunhiem. The Sisters of fate, only their pale white arms, gnarled hands and legs poked out of their black and gray robes... where there would be a face there was only a mass of greasy grey hair that poked out of their blackened hoods. one carried a gnarled staff of oak, the other carried a staff made from the jaw of a dead whale, the last carried a great rope of what was the hair of women woven into a several knots. The Norns, the Three Crones, the Ancient Three...etc etc they have had monikers upon monikers from the dawn age and they might have been before even Ymir himself. Not only where these three ancient crones descended from cloud giants... they were also masters of their own domains of magic and were truly formidable. It was said they could simply snap a finger and fae or mortal alike would die on the spot... with a simple gesture, great clouds of poisonous gas from the cthonian realms could rise to the surface and poison whole armies... but they could also bless you with incredible power and fortune... but for a hefty price.
"These sister three" Lord Arwann thought "They have powers over time and fate; Wyrd also known as Urdr, the Crone of the Past; who could see deep into the long and forgotten past. Verthandi, the Crone of the Present who could change one's fortune overnight and finally Skuld the Crone of the Future who can look into the loom of fate and see various future paths a mortal can take. They sit atop Bald mountain in the center of the Samhain and teach black magic to anyone foolish enough to seek their nefarious council..."
Wyrd "the Past seer" loomed over the aristocratic lord, unimpressed with his titles and finery. She whispered "Lord Arwann, your lady Isolde died in childbirth... but your brother Lord Nuada and his wife Lady Rhiannon in the southern Islands of Beltane and Imbolg, they are expecting a child...twins actually! gaze in the mirror of eternity and commune with your princely brother... I know you have not spoke to him since the death of Lady Isolde... but for us to save your kingdom we require a payment of the first born."
Suddenly Vethandi the present weaver spoke to Arwann in her hissing voice "get him to promise to this geas and we shall save the autumn palace and Dun Fomar from the invading Norse and their giant masters! We can make your people stronger and fiercer in battle!"
Finally Skuld croaked in her raspey voice "Do this and you shall rise with your fellow knights, more powerful than ever, even the dead shall walk once again and fight by your side... your enemies will turn on each other and face certain doom."
All three spoke in unison to Lord Arwann "Gaze upon the mirror of eternity...gaze upon it's wonders... can call to your estranged brother Nuada... ask him of him to swear an oath of blood... of the first born and we shall save your Autumn kingdom from these barbaric invaders!" and with that Vethandi pulled a great circular mirror from her robes, the glass was green almost like emerald or jade but yet still reflective it was gilded in elegant but aged copper leaf, though this mirror looked somewhat small in her hands it was still the size of a table among elven and mankind.
Lord Arwann gazed into it's emerald surface... he called to his estranged brother in a war weary voice "Lord Nuada, Lord Nuada, estranged brother I once loved, speak to me once again in my hour of need..."
suddenly Lord Arwann could see his horrified brother, sitting atop his antler and amber throne in the palace of Summer Solstice. His brother and his host of good folk (The Samhradh-Sidhe and Earrach-Sidhe aka Summer and Spring Elves respectively) still looked young even though he was centuries old, but his people lived with mirth and glamour... they did not suffer the cruel effects of banality and the despair like the Aun-Fomhar Sidhe... this dealing with cold iron and human wrought hardships took a toll on the elves and their fae folk allies, signs of weariness and aging appeared on what should be an eternally youthful peoples...for emotions sustained the fair folk like wine and fine food while hardship took both a mental and physical toll upon the good folk.
"Lord Arwann is that you? why do you use such potent Glamour to shatter the very fabric of Banality? Have the Invaders already reached Dun-Fomhar's gates? They have defeated your contigents of Elven Knights and Boggin Militias?" Gasped Lord Nuada... suddenly a very frightened Lady Rhiannon could be seen sitting right next to Lord Nuada to gaze into the potent magicks that sent this divination across the isles. She was fair of skin and almost shining in her complexion... Lord Arwann could also see she was pregnant and swollen with child.
Lord Arwann was saddened, he brushed his silver hair from his face and groomed his elegant mustache... he sighed and spoke "The Ancient Three, they can defeat the enemy, but they require of me to make a pact unto thee. They require no gold nor arms nor soldier fee but a price of the first-born blood within thee..." and he pointed his finger at Lady Rhiannon.
Lord Nuada gasped and roared "No! you cannot take our child!" but Lady Rhiannon silenced him an spake "I am the bearer of these children two and I swore unto thee to save the good people of Samhain from the enemy that I shall give the unto thee the children I bear as the blood fee."
Lord Nuada gazed in terror at Rhiannon and began to weep in terror and rage "Foul Crones know that you have bestrode upon my honor and I swear that if you come to the Palace of Summer Solstice we shall slay all three of thee! You cannot have my children as payment! Damn that An-Fomhar Sidhe let them die to a changeling and elf-wife because your lordship even entertained such a villainous request!" Skuld snapped her fingers and the vision in the mirror ended... the host of elves and fae who witnessed this in the palace and courtyard were sickened and felt betrayed...shocked at the uncaring decrees from Lord Nuada.
Lord Arwann turned to his assembled host and spoketh unto them "If we survive this day, we will no longer swear fealty to the other fae of the isles nor the great forest kingdoms of Arcadia! We shall become a new and free people! Free from the capricious whim of fellow fae folk and free from the devouring greed and domination of mankind! But first we must crush these Norse and their giant masters! We shall drive them from our Homeland of Samhain!"
The Cluricans, The Trow, the Firbolg, the Sidhe, The Boggins, the Puca, the Kelpies, the Slyphs and Pixies all roared in unison. The Three crones roar in victory as they lifted their staffs and gnarled claws to the high heavens! Suddenly a massive swirling thunderstorm manifested over the cloudy skies of Samhain, rain and emerald bale-lighting rained down violently from the eldritch tempest. As the cursed rain and lightning struck the Autumnal earth of Samhain, the fae folk began to violently change and morph into monstrous new beings. This dark violet rain fell upon the norse invaders and amongst them those who were unlucky fell to the ground screaming in agony and roaring in bestial pain. Their armor burst open as their new bodies rose upon from the slick grass and mud of the battle fields and these bestial pigmen fell upon their former norses allies using the same cold-iron weapons they once wielded against the fae folk. They fought valiantly and killed scores of Nords, but the norse armies were massive and crushed them in battle... the surviving pig men (known known as Korc in the pictish language) fled into the nearby Duns of the Orkney Islands (hence how the isles received this name) and they changed many of the picts and boars that dwelled their into Korcs to fight skirmish and harry the Norse.
The next to rise from the witchfire storm was all the dead elven knights who became the Ben-Sidhe (Banshees) who assualted the Norsemen with their bronze and silverleaf swords while wailing screams of terror that routed fully grown berserkers and thanes from the battlefield. Tragically these ghostly Fae fled the battlefield as well from suffering to many casualties and they fled deep into the cairns and barrows to awaken more of their buried kind to stalk and hunt the Northern warbands across the highlands and moors of Samhain, especially in the provinces of Hiberne and Caldonia.
The Nordic armies, led by the Giant Warlord Aegir Seahammar sounded the Horn of Jormagundar and the Northern armies charged across the shattered mountain battlefields and broken stronghold walls. The Trow that were slain or alive rose up as burly and stout redcaps, who wielded axes with skill and ferocity. Their razor-sharp teeth and claws ripped open nordic throats and disemboweled the tall invaders. The Common farming Boggins that were slain or alive changed into swarms of fury and vicious boggarts who use all manner of traps, pits and burning oil to ambush the nords or simply onrush them in huge waves of frenzied masses. the tiny sprites morphed into almost numberless legions of flesh eating slaugh, with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and swift wings like bats... they would descend upon varangjar archers and lift them into the heavens to ravenously devour them... only to drop gnawed bones in their wake. The mighty yet gentle Firbolg were warped into massive cyclopean giants known as Fachan who now were filled with rage to men and their giant masters and sallied forth from the castle to bite and wrestle the besieging frost giants outside of Fomhar-Dun.. scores of nords were crushed in their wake as they trampled their way to their giant enemies. what was once sweet Pixies morphed into cruel trickster Nixies who no longer used their magic to heal and aid but instead used illusions, curses and weaken the sea-raider warriors. Playful Kelpies were morphed into undead Nukalvee terrors who rode across the battlefield as flayed horses and riders, impaling nords with their lances or trampling them underfoot. The animalistic trickster known as Pucas were warped into the feral Cu-sith, the death hounds, who could see in the darkest of nights and hunted their victims in the deepest forests of highlands and lowlands to rend them to pieces with their ragged claws and fangs.
For all this ferocity and vicissitudes that the fae host of the An-Fomhar Sidhe went through, they could only hold the norse armies at a standstill... both armies gave no quarter and the corpses of the dead piled up in small mounds... blood drenched the battlefield at Dun-Fomrah of both fae, giant and man. Lord Arwann and his elven knights (the Fianna) turned to the Crones three and spoke. "Damnation, your promised us victory! not a stalemate! what must we do to drive these sea wolves (another term for Norse warriors) back into the ocean?"
As he spoketh he noticed that his fellow autumn elves slowly began to change, their skin changed to become the color of purple, dark blue and even dark silver, the iris of their eyes glowed crimson red or violet... the storm grew more and more powerful, the sky was almost black but they could see easily into the darkness conjured by the massive thunderstorm. These new elves were called Drow (Scath-Sidhe) but the nords called them Dokkalfar. These newborn dark elves could see in pitch blackness and fire poison crossbow at invaders to never be seen from their hiding spots. They made their way to Dun-Fomhar's walls and using their crossbows and longbows unleashed swarms of poisoned arrows and bolts upon the invaders, killing scores of them and even dropping the occaisonal frost giant.
The Battlefield was vicious, the fighting was fierce, and no quarter was given for several hours... but nordic reinforcements led by the vicious Risar (Ice Giant) slavedrivers made their way from the northern hills and vales (from the neighboring Orkney Isles) arrived at the battlefield and bellowed upon their war horns. The quickly thundered across the wet landscape as their heavy hobnailed boots crashed on the craggy and slick ground.
The Crones quickly turned to Lord Arwann and his assembled Errant Knights..."Swear unto us three that you shall serve us for eternity and we shall give you the power of unbelievability... armor so strong and thick it is nigh impenetrable... the might of sword arm so potent that shields and helmets are paved under your onslaught like the eggs of hens... Steeds so massive and swift they can crush man, wagon and even giants from their unstoppable charges. We give unto the blood of the Sisters three" and with that each of them slit their left wrists with their razor sharp talons from their right hands and poured their black blood into a great stone chalice."
Lord Arwann and his knights realized the full extent of their bargain and breathed a deep sigh of defeat... they bowed their heads and took the knee... and each took a handful of the black blood and drank deeply... they suddenly screamed in agony as purple and black balefire surrounded them... their scintillating bronze and silverleaf armor warped into the hardest and blackest iron, their flesh burned, their helms grew black and jagged like volcanic obsidian... as did their swords... their mounts screamed in agony as they turned into massive ebony stallions, with great flexing muscles and iron hooves... fire erupted from the nostrils and mouths of these great beasts... these once noble and elegant fae knights were warped into the most deadly of foes in all the Solstice Isles... they became the Black Riders... the Headless Riders (for even decapitation did not stop them)... the Dullahan.
The unseelie armies on the battlefield were losing ground and beginning to route when suddenly the great oaken gates of Dun-Fomhar's violently swung open and a host of dark riders sallied forth...charging like lightning across the battlefield, the hooves are their dark mounts crashed like thunder upon the landscape as fire and sparks sparked from their thunderous hoof-fall. The Dullahan riders now led by a great and transformed Arwann, covered in thick black armor, weilding massive obsidian axes and serrated ebony lances crashed into the nords and their giant masters... these northern warriors were impaled, ran through, crushed under the burning hooves of the dark knights... giants would get struck with multiple lances from all sides fall to their knees and Lord Arwann himself weilding a Executioner's axe would decapitate them as they pleaded for mercy. The Hordes of transmutated and bloodthirsty fae cheered in victory and crashed into the new nordic army as the Dullahan knights butchered the former besieging army.
It was a massacre. The Nords were routed and chased to the Orkney Islands of the north... they lept into their longboats and dragon-ships and rowed all the way back to Johtunhiem with their frost giant slave masters litterally leaping into the sea and swimming back through the churning and frosty polar seas.
Darklord Arwann and his Dullahan knights lifted their swords and battleaxes to the heavens in victory... they rode back to Dun-Fomhar to thank the crones but the crones laughed and struck their staves upon the ground when the dark host returned to their ravaged Autumn palace. The Mountains quacked with ferocity and mighty fierce, a massive fissure split the tortured soil open and Dun-Fomhar with all it dark elf and Dullahan inhabitants fell deep into the world below... some call it the feydark but the fae whisper it's true name as Ynis Avallach.
Now nearly all the lands of the newly named Samhain isles are cursed, the monstrous fae haunt the highlands and lowlands, the duns, moors and loches. Only the native people from beyond the twelve dun are allowed to enter the cursed lands of samhain and they must observe the pact of the unseelie to do so. They fae that dwell here are twisted with hate especially to humanity but we our ancestors now know why, because mankind betrayed their trust and broke their oaths that were sworn to the once peaceful fae rulers of the once peaceful Autumn Islands.