Note: these are written purely for fun. There are no plans to integrate any of these onto the wiki, nor should they be considered canon. Do not source anything you read on this page.
The utter contempt for the weak that this weapon emanates is unfathomable. The blood it draws from your palms almost feels like a test. Were you a touch more sensitive, it may very well have been the death of you. It's a good thing you're made of sterner stuff.
Aren't you?
“Many peoples across many worlds believe that the strong should rule the weak. The Fae, on the other hand, adhere to a simpler adage: the strong should eradicate the weak. It is an unsubtle distinction for an unsubtle people, but it is nevertheless an important one; for the weak have no place in any world the Fae call home.
In an ironic twist of fate, the Dran tend to agree.”
Of all the weapons that mar Yaesha's bloody history, the Staff of the Red Doe is perhaps the most unorthodox. The power it possesses, like the Doe herself, is subtle and unclear—thus, its meaning is defined not by those who wield it, but rather those whom it is wielded against. Some see a symbol of hope; others, the mark of weakness; some see a thinly-veiled threat... and others see nothing at all.
They are all wrong. It is none of these things.
It is a promise.
“Mortals are curious creatures. Mistaking mercy for weakness is a grave error, and yet it is an error they have made time and time again. Only the wisest among them, those precious few gifted by the Doe, ever realize the truth.
It is not the darkness you should fear, sweet beast, but rather the light that casts it.”
Across the worlds, splitting the atom is considered a crowning achievement of innovation. All races stand in awe at its destructive power and revel in the possibilities it presents—all except for one.
Among the Drzyr, such a feat holds no prestige. It is a tool like any other.
“When I was a young man, splitting the atom was considered the apex of warfare. Nothing in this world, or any other, could withstand that kind of power; of that, we were certain.
Unlike his son, Mudtooth tends to seek meaning in the old rather than the new. Among his favorite nuggets of old-world wisdom is the motto of history's deadliest—and quietest—killers: "one shot, one kill."
“Sometimes, less is more. When you're up to your neck in deadwood, you'd do well to remember that... if'n your eyes are sharp, and your hands are steady, that is.”
Most warriors, no matter how fierce, adhere to a code of honor. Be it a vow to never harm the innocent, or the refusal to kick a foe while they're down, there is always a line that a warrior will not cross. The rules we place upon ourselves are the only thing that separate us from the beasts.
Whoever created this clearly did not care about such sentiments.
“If there is any one throughline that connects all Fae, it is their love of bloodshed. Even I feel the call from time to time, though I am loath to dirty my hands.
Among the Fae, an aversion to violence is synonymous with weakness. Yet they are dead, and I am not. How curious.”
