           |
 The Aelfar are the Hunters, the masters of the Forest, the Wildwood, 'Annwn' as they call it. Legends of glamour, beauty and cruelty surround these enigmatic, mysterious and magical forest-dwellers. Tales of callous and coldhearted Sylvans who think only of themselves abound in the North of the world, around the seas which hold the Lirites and Najada and the farms and boatyards of the Aesir. There are countless tales of trickery and deceit, lies and intrigue, riddles and slavery and human sacrifice told to frighten children and make their older relatives shiver as well. And yet as many stories are told of inhuman beauty and wealth, tales of glory, daring and courage, deeds of magic and great power and rewards for bravery and generosity, and these stories protray the other half of the tale of the Aelflings. To themselves they are known as the Aelfar, beings of power corporeal and magical, capricious by nature and glorious to behold, the favoured children of the Gods and the absolute rulers of the heart of the Wildwood. To others, they are known mostly for the only time of the year most Aelfar contact the outside world, on a night of terror, a night of horror awash with blood. They speak of the Wild Hunt of the Aelfar, when warrior, horse and hound thirst for blood and will kill almost anything they find outside a dwelling; they speak of the cruelty in inhuman eyes and the awful baying of dreadful hounds as the Host descends, though few have ever seen the Aelfar Hunt and survived. There are many legends about these Sylvans, members of the most magical earthbound race on Aether. They are rumoured to be immortal, though this is merely an illusion, the Aelfar generally having timeless features which leave them looking little different at 25 and 55. It is claimed they cannot cross running water; this too is not true, but to cross a stream in one pace without apeasing Him is to call the attention and the ire of the Green Man, so most Aelfar will not do so. Horseshoes and mistletoe above a door are said to foil their entry, as is a lack of invitation; again, this is due to Aelfar superstition rather than any property horseshoes, mistletoe and doorways hold. They are said to be of inhuman stock, a race apart, bearing only a superficial resemblance to the Sylvans of the south; this also is untrue - the Aelfar are Sylvans shaped by a harsher climate and a harder world, for whom every day brings danger anew and every day is another battle in the war for survival. The Aelfar dwell in the far north, having limited contact with the Aesir who
inhabit the less-forested areas and the Atlanteans of the Decemvirate of
Lir, who dwell far beneath the seas. The Aelfar stronghold is the isles of
Albion, whose interior remains largely unknown to non-Aelfar peoples, though
the northern Sylvans have spread onto the continent, into the deep forests
of the hills and in the woodlands around the sea so favoured by Aesir ships.
They have little contact with the Najada, for both peoples are insular and
warlike and tend to avoid each other since neither can ever truly win
against the other when the surroundings they need to survive are so
different.
 
|