Prologue  

Snippet of a lengthy essay on the origins of Pariahs and the planar boundaries of Faerie by Llewellyn F'iere Jannuarie, Most Distinguished Head Librarian of the Seelie Court.




            To understand the ones known as the Human-touched, Pariahs or simply Mutants, you must understand the relationship between the  Material realm and Faerie. Despite their power and being countless seasons older than humans, the Fae are nevertheless closely connected to them. After so long the two planes being interconnected, the Material has altered aspects of the unfathomably mutable Faerie in strange ways. Mannerisms alien to the Folk such as the want of  love, the acquisition of wealth, power and property, and the desire to commingle with others are but a few of the signs, along with physical changes like walking on two instead of four legs (if the original “forme” was indeed quadrupedal to begin with), speech patterns, and even a more human-like facial structure in some instances.
             Obviously, these variable physical mutations only really occur with the Beasts, or Creatures-that-be. As infinitely diverse as the human cultures that tell stories about them, they range in form and appearance from the monstrous Dragons to the mysterious Shedu. And it is because of how the humans fear, respect and worship them that they can in the rare chance become a Pariah. These Beasts, along with the Cryptids and spirits, are a part of Fae but are not  Fae themselves...

{snip}
 
             ...As a result of the tight-knit relationship between the Material and the Land of the Young, in some years past enterprising individuals from both sides found it was mutually beneficial to open up trade in earnest, especially in those known as the changelings. Human “slaves” indentured by the Fae, they came across the border in droves. They were viewed as  cheap, hard workers, and endlessly fascinating to the denizens of Faerie. The humans living in Faerie, though possibly better off there than the unforgiving sprawls of their native Material (in isolated cases), usually could not hope for something better than middle income. If they were cunning and lucky.
            This went on for some time before the Seelie Queen Titania, fearing for the sovereignty of her Land, had the borders closed. However, she did not expressly abolish the practice completely, for she is not a human and therefore does not make laws the way humans did. Instead, Queen Mab and her Unseelie Court took up the trade, in the process creating a flourishing underground that exists to this day. And for some, the best way to carve a prosperous niche in the Land of Promise is to take advantage of what the Unseelie have to offer...



Friday, 12:15 pm. N.Y.C.
Date: Sometime in the “Modern” era...



            A soft rain drifted along the pavement as Hunter Villegas walked up the stairs to his condo in Queens, shaking out his raincoat above the mat outside before entering and turning on the lights. He made sure to flip on the TV while he changed into his bathrobe and brew himself some coffee.
           “Shit, what a day. At least I'm off for the week. Let's hope that fool Coby has the club well in hand while I'm gone.” Villegas said to the empty space as he sipped his drink and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch as a news story came to life on the screen. He reached for the remote to change it but stopped and looked, an errant image snagging his curiosity. The report was live via news helicopter, showing what once was a square two-story building utterly engulfed in flames. The scrolling words on the bottom of the screen repeated the liturgy ''Local underground club target for terrorist-esque attacks by 2 rival gangs. Building completely caught in flames in less than 5 minutes. Death count at thirty and climbing...''
            Hunter Villegas felt the core of his stomach grow cold and his face pale. He happened to be the owner of that nightclub, the Lion's Den. It was just down the street from his condo, and he had left   twenty minutes earlier than usual, at 11:30 pm. According to the report, the attack happened at 11:49 pm. Just about the time he would be getting ready to leave normally.
            “Fuck me...” he breathed, “It can't be her. That's not her style.” Even still, he couldn't move his eyes away from the television or bring himself to set his mug down. He could deal with most things,  but if it was indeed the work of  her agents, he didn't have many places to hide. After all these years, he was getting the feeling that They were finally coming for him.