Kykr to refer to everyone who is a part of the Circle of Feá Niehm and part of the greater collective of Fay species. The Fay species and the Kykr have been at open war for as long as anyone can remember and it all started with the the Vindral banishment from the Winterweald. The Fay have since been at odds with the civilised world of the Kykr, but do not often come out of their seclusion in the forests, caverns and mountain homes. There are fayfolk everywhere on Arjin. From the fairies who dance in the evening mists on the fields to the rock trolls who roam the mountains, the Fay are the original inhabitants of the world and they will not easily be subdued, nor forget the blood that has been spilt. The Fay is not one species, nor are they one united folk. There are a multitude of different Fay and they keep to their own kind and there's an intricate web of predators and prey within the world of Fay. They all answer to the Fay King, but he rules with the law of nature. One species feeding upon another is not a war crime, it is simply nature and if the prey wishes to survive, they must adapt to fight their predator. The Fay do however find themselves united by necessity against the Kykr, who pose a greater threat than any predator to them. A thousand of year of hatred has built against them, for many wars were fought in the mists of time, driving the Fay further into their seclusion and away from their homes. They are not above terrorizing, attacking, killing and kidnapping those who live close to their lands and the predators would rather feed on Kykr, than on other Fay. They're cruel and inventive in their torture of their enemies. Some Fay, like the Rau and Silfr, are carnivorous and feed upon anyone who they can snare, lure or hunt down.
Fay and IronAll the Fay races are strongly allergic to iron and by extension steel. Any iron that comes in contact with their bare skin will cause a painful, burning sensation, as if the iron was red hot. Prolonged exposure will actually cause damage to the skin of the creature. Long enough exposure to iron will have the same effect as depriving a Fay of their link to magic. It also acts as an inhibitor for their magic. If a Fay is in contact with iron, they cannot use their magic.
Fjalar clasped his hands behind his back as he heard the door open behind him. "Come with me!" He turned around and saw the Warden standing in the doorway. Fjalar nodded and followed the man out the door. They passed through the official areas of the building before entering the keep proper. The Warden didn't speak as they walked and Fjalar felt his hands getting sweatier by the minute. He was young and being offered a position in the castle guard at his age was quite an honor, and he didn't want to make the Warden think ill of him. They came to a large, sturdy, iron-reinforced door and the Warden handed Fjalar a keychain. "This is the door to the dungeon. Most of your time will be spent down here, keeping an eye on the prisoners. Are you ready, boy?" the Warden said. Fjalar nodded and put the large, iron key into the lock and opened the door. They traversed down several flights of very narrow stone steps. The air became cold and moist. A smell of mold and sweat filled Fjalar's nose as they journeyed deeper into the castle dungeon. The dim light from the Warden's lantern barely lit the steps in front of them. Eventually they reached the bottom of the stairs and yet another sturdy, wooden door. Fjalar looked towards the Warden, who nodded. Fjalar opened the door and stepped through. "In here you will find those who are the scum of our society. Those our lord have found to be so beyond help that there has been no other option than to lock them up, perhaps forever." The Warden walked up to one of the doors lining the tight corridor they stood in. "Particularly this one" he said with an undertone of anger and distaste in his voice. Fjalar walked up to the door and peered through the barred little opening. Inside the cell, lying on the filthy, straw-covered floor, was a small Vindral girl. She was emaciated and thin. Fjalar could count her ribs through her filthy tunic. As he looked on, she raised her head and looked towards him. Her face was a mask of pain, exhaustion and torment. She had been crying. She yelped with pain, as her movement had made her leg come into contact with the iron ring around her ankle. It was scarred and red, as if the skin had been burned and scalded. Fjalar gasped as the realisation hit. This was no Vindral. It was a Fay.While not all Fay are capable of using magic, most of them are and all of them are dependent upon magical energies to survive. If they are not regularly allowed to rest in their Fay home (usually a glade) or spend time near a ley line, they will gradually weaken. They become emaciated and eventually they wither and die. All Fay require the nurturing strength of Fay magic energies, as surely as they require food and sleep. Without it, they will wither away within weeks.