The Barony of Falling Leaves

Nestled in a small corner of up-state New York, an hour's drive away from the hustle and the bustle, infused in the beauty of nature exists a place where people can get away from it all: a place where the magic happens. The mortals of the area know it as an expensive resort know as Whispered Wind, a resort for those living in luxury, where they can enjoy all of the amenities of home in a calm relaxed atmosphere. To the fae, it, the surrounding wilds, and the local town, all constitute the Barony of Falling Leaves, a barony steeped in a bloody history and ruled at the hands of a long series of changing lords, and now controlled by the Nocker Baron Tillinghast.

Wilderness

While the woods directly surrounding the resort are of a more tame, cultivated sort, moving around a mile outwards the woods become more primal, untouched by development. There are a handful of trails carved out by the more courageous guests at the resort, as well as those made by the fae that dwell in the woods. Travelling west, the terrain goes from flat to hilly to the edge of the mountains. Numerous streams run through the region, and a large stream separates the hilly area from the flat-lands.

Heidelmar Springs

The closest thing to civilization in the area, Heidelmar Springs was a stop for the train line heading north, but seems to have not changed at all since it was founded. The locals cultivate a quaint atmosphere, as the main source of income for the town are the resort guests and other tourists. While the guests and tourists are largely regional affairs, they generate enough income to support the town for the rest of the year, thus leading to them having little other contact with the outside world. One of the most striking elements of the town's lack of development is the absence of any cell phone towers in the region, making the area a dead zone for almost every provider. Of course, most of the guests see this as a boon in helping to get away from the stress of their jobs.

Whispered Wind

The resort is the beating heart of the region, for both mortals and the fae. The resort is centered around a large lake, with housing on the north side and attractions on the south, to encourage people to walk back and forth. While the resort slows down during the colder months, a skeleton staff is kept on year round to tend to those guests that come during off-peak season. The kitchen is always well stocked and the chef is a master of his art, preparing dinner every night in the main hall. There is also a large indoor swimming pool and various sports courts for the more active individuals and massage tables and several well stocked libraries for the less active.

Falling Leaves

The entire region is infused with the energies emanating from the balefire, around which the main hall of the resort was built around. The woods are more lush to fae eyes, the town's quaint charm takes on a vibrant energy, and chimera flit around the entire region. Several of the lodges in the resort were designed specifically to be occupied by fae and offer further amenities catered to each kith. The libraries are large to the access of the fae, containing many voluminous tomes of lore. The Court is gathered every week into the main hall after all the rest of the guests have slumbered off into sleep, and the room is infused with glamour, becoming a grandiose ball room, giving the fae room to stretch and socialize more freely.

Fae of Note

Baron Tillinghast

Tillinghast is a twisted thing, gnarled and nearly broken, with a prominent clockwork arm, a nocker in the wracks of grump hood. In his prime, he led an army of clockwork soldiers to unite the broken barony under his rule, but now he is lost to his tinkering, leaving Brendon to tend to the day to day affairs of the Court, including presiding over the affairs of the weekly Courts.

Sir Brendon

Sir Brendon is the Reeve for the freehold, and the de facto leader. He is a noble and gracious sidhe, listening fairly to all sides of an issue before making his decisions and passing down his laws. He has a light and graceful form, considered by some to be rather effeminate, especially considering how immaculate his attire and appearance is at all times.

Mad Tom

Tom is an old, drunk satyr. Where he came from, no one is really sure. Some say he was an old comrade of Tillinghast during the unification war, whilst other say that he is an even older fae, recently returned to offer his wisdom to the Barony. He serves as the seer and is one of the most powerful soothsayers in the world, though only when he is at exactly the right level of drunkenness.

Sir Elegan

Elegan is positively huge for a sidhe, comparable to some of the smaller trolls in terms of height and bulk, but the delicate scars on his face do little to detract from his kith's natural beauty. He is typically seen in clockwork armor fashioned by the Baron which further enhances his natural strength and aids him in his duty as Thane, enforcing the edicts of the Baron and Reeve with a brutal efficiency.

((If anyone wants to make any personal rooms within the setting, just run them by me first, ditto for any NPCs. If your PCs are established in the region, you can contact me for more information. Also, I'd like it if any participating players could post here commonly available information about your PCs, that way we can get rolling with this.))

The Forest Nymph .. Or Ghille Dhu to the changeling who knew to call them that. A few would mention seeing a young girl in the deeper sections of the forest, less would tell of hearing an enchanting voice singing. The regular guests of the resort would sometimes venture out trying to find the lady of the forest but would always return without success. None of the local changelings seemed to know her name only that she may still be deep within the forest.




http://konekoart.webs.com/sharcloak.jpg (link if the image isn't working..)

http://sharadamiller.webs.com/ Character URL

Maeve Wild

The piskie who looks after the children. She works at the resort, has unnatural turquoise eyes, and an English accent.




http://maevewild.moonfruit.com/

Mr. Morgan

In the streets of Heidelmar Springs, nestled within a quaint building, lies the bookstore Between the Lines. A moderate sized place, it is owned by the Boggan known only as Mr. Morgan. Having been there for many years, he is somewhat of a fixture in the town. He's been known to make several visits a month to the resort, to talk to old friends, make deliveries to good customers, and in general enjoy life.

The way to Mr. Morgans heart has always been through his pipe and his stomach.

Kyle is a local fixture working odd jobs whenever he can and holding town two permenant gigs (Local grocery store and working for the groundskeeper at the resort as well as taking on any menial jobs like taking out the garbage, cleaning bathrooms, ect he also does dishwasher and short order cook stints at alot of the local resteraunts in the resorts off seasons) Always working kyle is constantly around but actively sepperated from the attraction of the resort by the nature of his duties. But most assume he wouldnt have it any other way though. For the most part he is an outsider and almost no one knows how he arrived. he works so he can attends college via nearby community school and online classes.

Ginger Carswell takes a brief moment from her work to off a proper introduction of herself:

Ya, I'm a bad bitch, and I know it. Don't worry, you don't have to tell me, sugar. What? You want politeness from me? Pfft. Get real, I can show you some real nocker politeness right here in my shorts, hun. Oh, come on, don't cry. I hate all the fucking snot getting everywhere. Just walk past some mollywaddle crying and next thing you know, there's boogers everywhere. Whadiyamean 'Don't use profanity'?! This here's a furking introduckfuckingduction. Eh, piss on yah, pantymarkin' tinytits. *Stomps off*

From the subjective view of an outsider:

Ginger Carswell is a rude, crude, sewer mouthed ingrate with the patience of a mouse. However, she is also an exceptionally intelligent and creative woman who strives to make things people direly need and can use in the coming war. (She's convinced a big one is one the way.) Her armor smithing and decorative leather attributes to much of her income. One way to win over her devotion and fondness is to give her anything clockwork (Currently working or not.) and sit back and leave her alone to her small moments of nockerly bliss as she fidgets with it.

Simon the Tailor.

A very nice, quiet, polite (well, most of the time) young man who's often painfully shy. When he's not gossiping about other people or being horrifically embarassed and scarred for life, he's a tailor by trade. Alterations, imitations, and original designs, in all traditional and modern fabrics, and he dabbles in leather (although if you want armor, Ginger might be who you want to talk to) and is a pretty decent cobbler to boot (badumCHA!).

Aaron O'Doul

A rakish-mostly irish fellow with an insatiable appetite and an unusual penchant for unusual foods. He is a (self proclaimed) gourmand of sorts, scouring the near dreaming often for unique little tidbits to add to recipes, as well as making attempts at shattering the status quo of taste in food, though he often ends up being the only one who can devour his creations. To the humans, his vicious, often controlled comments and directions help improve the restaurant industry one place at a time, but occasionally, the temper boils through and utensils get hurled, sometimes you have to eat the evidence....

To the Fae, this Redcap is as menacing at a glance like others. He looks like a butcher that came out from the back, though most of the stains on his leather apron and long gloves (or the cleaver Gryzwuuld) come from his chimerical alchemy exploits (attempts, some would say; disasters, others still) rather than opening up other Fae. He'd much rather feed them.

(Of note, figured I'd belatedly mention some of his other social flaws here, for everyone to read.)

Disturbing rumors mill about Aaron's past, or even his presence here in the barony, due to his striking resemblence (Mistaken Identity) to William Bluddy, The Nameless Hunger; a bloody and vindictive Redcap surrounded by an endless pile of rumor and legend attesting to his brutality, starting with the consumption of his own faerie name so it could never be used against him, at a mere eleven years old. Unseelie redcaps rally behind William Bluddy's wicked legacy as inspiration, and even the Shadow Court shudders in recollection of his extravagant 'refusal' to join them, though they've had time to recover from the losses, and plenty of time to clean up the valley of blood. He stood apart from Court or King, preferring the darkest part of his savage heart as his own personal kingdom, and began the Bluddy March - quite possibly the only event in the history of the fair folk where 'Many Redcaps, for a short time, walked under one black banner, droning their approach with the marching shrill of the bagpipe and pounding feet, faces smeared with soot and biolumin mushroom, skin woad-painted and skulls tied to their belts that shook with each heavy step, clacking a marching beat that echoed for miles'. Nobody knows why the Bluddy March stopped so suddenly, but it died out swiftly, and dissipated like mist in the noon sun.

While Aaron insists often, and ferociously, (probably due to being harassed on it a lot) that he is -not- Will Bluddy, and that though he has his own bitter past, he's not that much of a monster. However, the last few vague legends before Bluddy walked off the earth and Aaron reared his head do mention his signature weapon, a 'wicked blade that roared like a lion and billowed pillars of black smoke, and had an appetite as wicked as his own, chewing through flesh like butter'. While Aaron makes no secret that he wields some manner of ghoulish FUBAR-powered chimerical chainsaw, this couldn't possibly be the same blade that Bluddy once wore with grisly pride, could it?

Major Sir Reginald Highcrown Mosley

Hero of the Sudan! Darling of Cairo! Scourge of the Lemurian Rabbit-priests! Officer, scholar, and explorer extraordinaire! Ever vigilant and ready to defend freedom and liberty from the Kaiser's nefarious minions!

A stern, elderly gentleman with the sort of hard, redfaced features that come from a lifetime of discipline, activity, and yelling. His balding salt-and-pepper hair is kept neatly trimmed in a very sensible crewcut. He wears the sort of sensible tweeds and sturdy boots that would've been the height of sensible hiking clothes in the 1920s, and carries a very well-made black umbrella.



His fae mien is every inch the Nocker though. His face is, if anything, even redder, complete with an unbelievably bushy set of eyebrows, and he now sports a rather large and impressive white Kitchener mustache. His hair, unusually for a Nocker, is still every bit as short and well-behaved as it is in his mortal seeming, although it's stark white instead of merely greying. To enchanted eyes he's dressed in an immaculate Victorian English infantry officer's uniform. Crisp red jacket with major's stripes, shiny brass buttons, shinier black boots, and a sturdy off-white pith helmet. He also has a distinctly non-regulation pair of shiny black bandoliers and and a utility belt, all festooned with loops and pockets stuffed with tools, small devices, spools of wire, and other useful little must-haves (including an ungentlemanly five hipflasks of brandy). He has a musket slung rather cavalierly over his shoulder, and belted to his hip he carries a cavalry saber with a bizarre clockwork mechanism built into the hilt.

Reg's current location is entirely unknown, possibly even to himself.