Shadow's Stories
First Day of the First Month 294 AC
The spirits were abroad this night, sprites and seedlings, gilded song-drinkers and stout stone-folk, but one among that company did not seem any different from the mortals of the Deep, not through any sorcery or glamor, but because such was the gift of his birth, still veiled unto himself. Sometimes Renly Strom wondered if he ought to travel to the flesh forge, to ask them for some small change to his seeming, cat-slitted eyes perhaps, or sharper features like so many of the children of faerie wore.
Although he had grown to understand himself and accept the magic that sung through him on a night like this, he still wondered if he was deceiving folk wearing the face he had been given. When he bought a sweetroll to reward someone for holding his place in line at the theater, no one looked at him with suspicion, thinking of tales of eating fey food.
"And isn't that the most fey thing about you," Venny was as quick to point out as ever when Renly brought up the idea. "You don''t mind when I wear mortal faces," he added, seeing his friend's scowl.
"That's just a glamor. I'm..."
"That's your king, yes?" Cryl rumbled unexpectedly pointing at the great enchanted mirror one could just make out around the corner. "Do you think he lies when he walks around in man-shape? I think he's smart myself, less likely to snash head on a too-low lintel."
Renly could not keep a smile from his lips. The ice-giant was much more cheerful drinking on the king's coin than his own. When asked about it, he had claimed he did not like to contemplate a hangover and an empty coin pouch at the same time. "Morning is bad enough on its own. Stupid sky-light," he added shaking one hand at the eastern horizon, not that the sun would be coming up any time soon. The night was young yet.
"So, boss, are we actually going to recruit anyone or are we just around to see the Empire Day plays?" Venny asked. Alas, his urchin guise was not just for show. Renly had yet to persuade him of the virtues of any sort of art, though he maintained that there was artistic merit in a perfectly executed prank.
"Yes, one of the leads has implied that she may be growing dissatisfied with her present employment and is willing to entertain a journey to the Feywyld."
Cryl's expression was less than pleased. "And I supposed you aren't gonna tell us what she is until we see her on stage..."
"That makes it more interesting," the knight said with a smile.
The giant was the only one who Renly had ever heard to make the graceful syllables of Auran grumble and gnash like frozen rocks rolling down hill. The only words he managed to catch were. "You're paying."
***
The play was a newly written one, the Tragedy of Lyceos, supposedly 'inspired' by the lives of the Aedil of Lyceos and his family in the days just before the Doom, though Renly doubted they had gotten anything more than the names right. Gods were not so kind as to send warnings of tragedy to come, nor fate so gentle as to preserve children against the wreck of the world, but he would agree that it was a grand thing, filled with passion and power, moments that could move one to tears and gallows humor that would have one laughing in spite of one's self.
As to the writing itself, it was halfway between the Volantine tradition of Valyrian revivalism and the far more critical Braavosi school that sought to reveal the world with comedy.
Peel back the skin of the world, as the current leading lady would say. Renly was vaguely aware that he should find Lady Lamora's similes at least a little off, but shadow-fey were gloomy sorts and those with aspirations of becoming inquisitors... well they couldn't exactly have an aversion to blood could they?
No one who saw the lady on stage could have mistaken her for anything other than one of the fey, a figure of swirling shadow,
half illusion, half
true transformation, she played as many as three parts at once when she was on stage, for the challenge, Renly assumed.
When Lamora approached them after the play, she wore instead her true appearance, or at least as close to one as she could be said to have, skin of pale alabaster, more like porcelain than flesh, hair and eyes as black as raven's wing and just as black two lines of frozen tears upon her cheeks. Even Venny was not so foolish as to ask about those.
"So, this is to be our escort," she asked, voice whisper soft in the unnatural silence, the sound of the parting crowds somewhere far far away. "Strong of flesh and broad of back to bear the burdens."
Cryl's scowl left her entirely unmoved, though Renly was quick to redirect the conversation. "What news from the Feywyld and beyond, my lady?"
The lady of the Shadow Fey looked down at the gremlin her expression unreadable. "It would be so much more amusing to tangle and twist these rumors when you spread them beyond this place would it not?"
"Er... right you are my lady," Venny swallowed.
Renly, whose idea would have been to simply tell his companions not to spread anything they heard here, was quietly impressed by the lady's understanding of his friend. Then again, she probably had centuries of experience dealing with them. Maybe I will too, some day. He very deliberately pushed away the thought of his own likely longevity and listened to her answers.
Rumors of the Fey Courts
Path to Summerhall: Though it was well known over the past years that the ill-famed ruins of Summerhall were no place for fey to wander, in recent months bold Wyldfey have been slipping through the ruins to find whatever power had claimed them now absent. This had lead to scores of fey, particularly those associated with the darker emotions of loss and sorrow, to proclaim their desire to claim the ruins. Whether a new independent court will spring up around the stones, or the Court of Stars claims it, depends on how much the Queen and her high lords are bound to loftier goals.
Watchful Woods: Several fey lords of the Green Wardens have banded together to grow woods close to Old Town, particularly ones near the coast into bastions against Deep One aggression. As this will bring the Green in close contact with mortals high and low, many of the more impulsive fey are cordially invited to keep their distance, though exceptions are made for those oathsworn to battle Far-Spawn.
A Tale as Old as Time: Muses of all kindred are gathering along the Rhyone to inspire the newly arriving mortals with new songs and poetry of lost love and star-crossed fates, the melody of so many minds gathered from all corners of Essos and beyond enchanting and intoxicating.
What do you do next?
[] Another perspective on Empire Day
-[] Joran of Dragonstone
-[] Yssla Royce
-[] 'Fair' Walda Frey
-[] Renly Storm (the Changeling)
-[] Thoros of Myr
-[] Write in
[] More reports on the doings of the last month (Rumor post)
[] Continue with Viserys
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Lamora is a Shadow Creature Vila Sorceress 6. She is one of the Shadow Fey set to join the inquisition towards the end of the year so she decided to fill her time traveling the Feywyld with Renly and company in the meantime since acting had gotten stale. Not yet edited. 
