Welcome
The pink light of dawn breaks through the stone buildings of Faenriyes, spreading across dew-coated clovers and daisies. In the crisp air, letters form, glistening and iridescent.
“Welcome to the website of Faenriyes, the fantasy world of Lily Bellamy.”
What a strange message. What even is a “website?”
Objects are spread around, some on stone pedestals carved with draconic wings and some on a giant surface more tree trunk than table. It couldn’t hurt to check.
Which item will you look at first?
Characters
A translucent tablet that couldn’t have come from anywhere close. Rainbows shimmer across it when the light catches it, scattering and dancing across the cobblestone path. When touched, the tablet’s silky surface fills with text.
Displays information about the characters of the world of Faenriyes.
Some information appears quite private, of the type that none but that individual would know.
The Compendium
A text retrieved from the central gardens of Faenriyes. It sits on an ivy-wreathed pedestal, crowned with a vibrant flower of eternity. A not-subtle-at-all beam of light shines upon it, as if the gods themselves are saying, “Look here!”
Contains lore entries about the world.
They are written in a meticulous script and “illuminated” with drawings that must have been done by a child. Hopefully.
Newest Update
The crystalline tablet glitters to life with a chosen page. This entry seems to be especially fresh, as if it has been newly sparked into existence.
Nev’eirys, son of Neth’eirys.
Nev’eirys has sparked the imagination of his fellow citizens of Eirenos for decades. He looks like a mythical faenriin, but he refuses to use the magic they all have.
Featured Page
The crystalline tablet glitters to life with a chosen page. If the tablet were alive, it would probably be jumping up and down to show this page.
Attaelissa (but “Attel” is better; less stuffy).
A faenriin without a familiar isn’t much of a faenriin at all, are they? Sure, they’re better off than the Unblessed, but that’s like saying it’s better to be alive than a ghost.
A breeze fills the air, rustling the foliage and caressing skin and scales.
Voices dance through it. Perhaps listening will lead somewhere else.
Whispers from Faenriyes
