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Past Born a very dull "James Lant" into an equally dull money-bothered family, Piers was treated, upon coming of age, to the prospect of taking over the family business (a form of accountancy) and leading a fantastically dull life heading a fantastically dull job and married to an obnoxiously dull wife. It is not surprising, therefore, that the day before his birthday, Piers stole his inheritance and ran away, overseas. He travelled down the country from the North where he landed, gathering money, reputation and names, until he finally settled in Grantabrugge. Present Having made a name for himself in the somewhat disreputable social circles of Grantabrugge, Piers took his magpied wealth and set up camp as a "laundress", dealing in the two things he appreciated most: men and money. Moved by both restlessness and reputation (this time not his own) to the Wessex Arms, Piers is only just starting to sample exactly what it means to be a regular there. He holds common courtesy and manners in high regard, despite appearances, and if pissed off, oh man, does he ever hold a grudge. Has acquired a recent dislike of swogs and a Fae domain (the Barony of your mum) for a potentially hazardous price. Future Or "Piers's Notebook" :- Sex. - Mmmm, dark elves. :- More money. (see above) - Mmmoney. :- Find the bastard Dave the Swog-catcher. :- Inflict the terribles on him. - Will probably involve his testicles and a large mallet. :- Write more Gossip columns. :- Collect more names. - aquired: "Pisky Von Tinkle van". |
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Piers told lots of different stories about where he came from, but he was, in fact, born a light elf. He never felt at home, never felt welcome, and certainly never felt at peace with himself. Having grown majorly pissed off with his family's bigotry and rancour about other races, when his opportunity came, Piers buggered off. This opportunity was when the races melted. His family reassumed their position as light elves, and Piers, thumbing his nose, spurned his heritage and remained a true elf. He thought the expunging of magic from himself would make the strange creepy "This isn't my skin" feeling go away. It didn't. So we ran off and went to live in a wood. Having lived in the woods of South Cymru for a good while with a friendly werewolf, he decided that the woods weren't for him either (no mirrors, oh my goodness me!) and came to Grantabrugge, and began a life of shaggery and excellence. The crawly feeling remained. He tried to drown out the crawly, creepy "Not my skin" with prostitution, which he enjoyed, and supported himself well enough on. It didn't go away through that, either. So, Piers flirted briefly with religion, following Luca's guidance as a lay follower for a few months, hoping that would fulfill him. It didn't. So he went back to being filled, and thought very hard. His life was boring him. He didn't have any emotional attachments beyond friendship with only a precious few people (he could count the people he genuinely cared about on the hand that was missing a finger) and was getting fed up of being the passing toy of rich perverts. He had almost given up and started to wonder what would happen if he offered to be a test subject for Horace Wainscot's "Bedtime Drinks", when he met Crimson. Aha. He'd seen Fae before, but they were... aloof. They'd never connected with him, visa versa. But Crimson was different, straight-forward, cunning, and intriguing. Through Crimson, Piers met other Fae like him. Unseelie Fae; polite, gritty and with a heartfelt code of honour and playfulness. Piers's little brian-cogs began to clank into action. How on earth could he become one of those? He's changed race once, but that was accident. How could you change your race permenantly and purposefully? Over the course of about a year, some purposeful toil, some happy accident, Piers got where he wanted to be. He's now a Fae. A real one. And that itchy-skin feeling's gone away. And he lived happily ever after. The End. |
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Just out of interest, seeing as he was presumably something other than a True Elf until two years ago, what happened? (actually, I could see him being born human and then deciding elves were Interesting...) --Pufferfish : I genuinely hadn't given this thought. I think he may have been a Kender. I'll ask. :Erm... is that possible? --Entimix ::According to what we were told at the time of the 3ygb in question, you could turn into any of the six remaining basic races (humans, true elves, dwarves, true dragons, uruk, and vani, daedra having been destroyed) or anything you used to be or that one of your ancestors had once been (so elemental elves could choose any colour from their ancestry, kender and other corrupted races like durgar and orks could return to being that race, beastkin and their decendants could be restored, etc). This may have changed. Dragons all flew off to Atlantis with any Vani that turned up on their backs. --ChessyPig |
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/PiersMeme |
Piers told lots of different stories about where he came from, but he was, in fact, born a light elf. He never felt at home, never felt welcome, and certainly never felt at peace with himself. Having grown majorly pissed off with his family's bigotry and rancour about other races, when his opportunity came, Piers buggered off. This opportunity was when the races melted. His family reassumed their position as light elves, and Piers, thumbing his nose, spurned his heritage and remained a true elf. He thought the expunging of magic from himself would make the strange creepy "This isn't my skin" feeling go away. It didn't.
So we ran off and went to live in a wood. Having lived in the woods of South Cymru for a good while with a friendly werewolf, he decided that the woods weren't for him either (no mirrors, oh my goodness me!) and came to Grantabrugge, and began a life of shaggery and excellence.
The crawly feeling remained. He tried to drown out the crawly, creepy "Not my skin" with prostitution, which he enjoyed, and supported himself well enough on. It didn't go away through that, either. So, Piers flirted briefly with religion, following Luca's guidance as a lay follower for a few months, hoping that would fulfill him. It didn't.
So he went back to being filled, and thought very hard. His life was boring him. He didn't have any emotional attachments beyond friendship with only a precious few people (he could count the people he genuinely cared about on the hand that was missing a finger) and was getting fed up of being the passing toy of rich perverts. He had almost given up and started to wonder what would happen if he offered to be a test subject for Horace Wainscot's "Bedtime Drinks", when he met Crimson.
Aha.
He'd seen Fae before, but they were... aloof. They'd never connected with him, visa versa. But Crimson was different, straight-forward, cunning, and intriguing. Through Crimson, Piers met other Fae like him. Unseelie Fae; polite, gritty and with a heartfelt code of honour and playfulness.
Piers's little brian-cogs began to clank into action. How on earth could he become one of those? He's changed race once, but that was accident. How could you change your race permenantly and purposefully? Over the course of about a year, some purposeful toil, some happy accident, Piers got where he wanted to be.
He's now a Fae. A real one. And that itchy-skin feeling's gone away.
And he lived happily ever after.
The End.