In the long, long ago, before the New Age dawned, when we had newly been chased under the Earth there lived a stag named Lleuad.
Lleuad’s pelt was as white as Gealach’s feathers. Some fawnlings believed that Lleuad’s coat was made of moonlight and that he had been blessed when he was born, for it shone shone so brightly that even in the dark of the Underplaces he wore no glowing paint.
Lleuad was a shaman and his magic was strong, and all who saw him knew in their hearts that he would become the Oracle. Fawnlings would come to Lleuad and beseech him to find them favour with the god who had so clearly blessed him - and if t
Major plots etc
7
Deceased Characters
126
Fawnlings
Major plots etc 7
The Tale of Lleuad by femalefred, literature
Literature
The Tale of Lleuad
In the long, long ago, before the New Age dawned, when we had newly been chased under the Earth there lived a stag named Lleuad.
Lleuad’s pelt was as white as Gealach’s feathers. Some fawnlings believed that Lleuad’s coat was made of moonlight and that he had been blessed when he was born, for it shone shone so brightly that even in the dark of the Underplaces he wore no glowing paint.
Lleuad was a shaman and his magic was strong, and all who saw him knew in their hearts that he would become the Oracle. Fawnlings would come to Lleuad and beseech him to find them favour with the god who had so clearly blessed him - and if t
Public Windborne Event | Autumn 759 | Part 2 by femalefred, literature
Literature
Public Windborne Event | Autumn 759 | Part 2
The Tempest
Featuring… everybody, pretty much!
Late Autumn, Year 759 of the New Age
Windborne, The Cape
Something was wrong, something was very wrong.. the wind was still tonight, no Autumn storms were leaping in off the ocean but Tzilan felt more anxious and strained than if there were. Where was the wind? And then suddenly, in the distance, voices.
“Mother?”
“The fawns, they’re taking our fawns!”
“No,” he gasped.
At once he turned and ran towards the place that the fawns had been sleeping and he found himself gathering the air about him. By instinct he was pulling the absent storm to hi
Public Windborne Event | Autumn 759 | Part 3 by femalefred, literature
Literature
Public Windborne Event | Autumn 759 | Part 3
Voice of Thunder
Featuring… everybody, pretty much!
Late Autumn, Year 759 of the New Age
Windborne, The Cape
The storm still raged.
He had not been able to stop it. He could not send it back. The wind had forsaken its promise, it refused to obey even him and so the storm still thundered over the Cape.
He had ruined it all.
“The don’t follow us anymore Captain!”
“RUN!”
“My children?! Where are you?”
His eyes were closed, trying to hide from the pain and memories but nothing could stop them, the figures twisting and screaming on a backdrop of bloody red.
A dark figure charging towards
Autumn, Year 759 of the New Age, The Capefeaturing - nearly every Adult Alliance Fawnling!
The Allied Splinter herds massed before him on the smoking black ground that had once been a meadow. His voice was the thunder and as they looked upon the stag - the stag who had caused the destruction and then had the cheek to call them back here - his mane and tail flickered and jumped as though they were stormclouds themselves. His eyes were lit by a strange light and when he stepped towards them, thunder sounded.
They were all here: the handful of fawns who had escaped the attackers, the soldiers who had at first run after them, the weeping mothers
Public Windborne Event | The Final Battle | Part 1 by femalefred, literature
Literature
Public Windborne Event | The Final Battle | Part 1
Endgame
featuring Tzilan, Étain, Ket and nearly everyone else in Windborne!
Winter, Year 760 of the New Age, Windborne, the edge of Gumtree Hollow
The morning was quiet and the wind was still - strange, for a day in the depths of winter. The sky was clear where there should be a thick carpet of grey cloud and there was no movement in the treetops or the grasses. There should be rain and thunder, the trees should be shaking themselves to pieces, and yet there was nothing. Only the sound of marching hooves.
The Alliance, a group held together by the thinnest of agreements, was marching. There were no fawns with them; this was not a migr