The Butcher of Gadobhra

Lord Hound had begun his busy day the in the realm of Alwyn, a minor Lord of Summer. His courier was sound asleep after a night of drinking and feasting. Lord Alwyn had not had such a huge reason to celebrate in some time, and the wine had poured freely. If either was awake and about by noon, the hound would be greatly surprised. He had much experience with both drunken lords and drunken pixies.

He himself had eaten his fill, danced with the court, and curled up for his usual two hours of sleep. Hounds of King Oberon's courier service were hearty beasts with many enchantments. Racing through the wilds all day and feasting all night only resulted in an extra yawn in the morning. The sun of Alwyn's realm leaped above the far hills ready to get to work, and so did the hound. There was much to do today. Things had been set in motion that he must investigate. Already a small rift in the realm had appeared. It would slowly grow into a full gate as Alwyn fed it more of his power, but for now it was big enough for a hound.

Unicorns were clustered around the small rift that was growing between Lord Alwyn’s pocket of Underhill and the mortal world, near to the town of Sedgewick. The small equines smelled the breeze coming from the glades and meadows of the world beyond the rift. The unicorns were hungry, as they always were and the scents were enticing to them.

A fine pair of unicorns was a boon to any fae realm. Alwyn's great-grandfather of the same name had enticed two of the creatures to enter his small realm. Unfortunately, they were a young mated pair just a little over a thousand years old and coming into their breeding years. They had immediately set to work increasing their small herd. With no natural predators they had bred every seven years, producing more and more of their kind until the small summer realm was overwhelmed with them. And while two unicorns were essential to a healthy pocket of Underhill, sixty-two of the lovely creatures were far too many for the local flora to sustain.

Normally a pair of unicorns would create a glade of perfectly cropped grass and a scattering of wildflowers inside a small orchard or forest. Alwyn's small realm had become more and more glade, and less and less wildland as the unicorn population increased. Eventually there was a lack of meadow to sustain them and the hungry herbivores devoured anything short of a large tree that wasn't protected. And still more unicorns were born.

Alwyn's father, and now Alwyn, had become beggared as the expense of importing fodder for the horned nuisances kept increasing. The agreement between the first pair and Alwyn’s ancestor stated he must protect all the unicorns in the realm, and see to their wellbeing. (Rumor had it that the Unicorns had been aided by a good lawyer in drawing up the contract that the Fae Lord hadn't read it closely. True or not, the story circulated around the great court, amusing everyone but the Lord Alwyn.) An appeal to the King each generation was ignored of course.

The hound was always annoyed with the unicorns who pestered him when his rider visited Lord Alwyn. He tried to avoid them, but they would whine and cry until someone asked if he would please go play with the silly ponies. He hated it, but he was a good dog. The last few years he had begun to take refuge in one of The Summer Lords studies. If anyone noticed a bit of hair on a sofa, they didn't complain.

He had avoided the unicorns this morning by quickly slipping through the rift into the mundane realm. His courier was supposed to scout the area, but the courier was also snoring and still drunk. A good hound could get the job done on his own. He was quite surprised by what he found. According to the notes on Lord Alwyn’s desk, this should have a mighty forest of oaks. Instead, it was a deforested area where even most of the stumps were gone.

The feel of humans and their axes bringing war to the oaks still echoed in the ether. He got the full story from a helpful pair of woodchucks and a nervous fox who not only informed him about how the oaks had left, but that they were on their way to a badger den to place wagers. The hound asked about the surrounding areas and the helpful (or fearful of becoming a snack) animals told him much about the area.

To the north and west of the village of Sedgewick was a small forest of Ironwood Hickories. Long under siege by the mighty army of the oaks, they now dwelt in peace, guarded in part by their new allies in the village. It was easy to find their once hidden glade. Just follow the trail of oak stumps.

Further from the village, and again North and to the West, dwelled the dryads of the Apples. More numerous, but not nearly as powerful as the Ironwoods, they fell under the dominance of the oaks, forced to send bushels of apples as tribute to the squirrel allies of the oaks. They too were now freed of the shackles of the tyrant trees and had agreements with both the Ironwood and human village.

Between the two glades were miles of once-oak, the mighty trees either fled, (slowly, even a mile a day is a fast pace for a treant and a flock of trees, or died where they stood. Victims of a war with strong humans and Princes of the Ironwoods armed with fell axes and saws. Nature was now conducting its harsh race to see what would fill in the area. Small saplings hoped to outgrow the bushes before their light was devoured. The grasses were doing their best to attract grazing animals who would mow down bush and saplings alike, giving the grasses the chance to create a meadow.

As was usual with any event, the badgers had started a betting pool. Bets were placed by all sorts of animals, the crows taking the bets to the badgers who set the odds and seemed to always come out ahead. It was 2-1 odds on the trees taking over in the long run, with the meadow not far behind. The bushes were the longshot at 10-1. Side bets were made on things like Pepper Farms, City Expansion, and Undead Rabbits affecting who won. The badgers took bets from anyone, no matter how odd, even the silly hound that barked loudly and tossed them a muddy coin pouch he'd claimed to have found by the road. The canine placed a bet of 1 gold, 4 silver, 9 copper, and a perfectly round pebble into the pool with the outcome of "Hungry Unicorns". The badgers gladly took his money and entered the hounds bet into the pool at odds of 567-1.

The hound was happy he had decided to tag along and see if mundane badgers were as powerful and smart as their fae cousins. It turned out they were not. and Lord Hound looked forward to a gaining a small chest of coins not far into the future.

The area had been easy to scout. He had raced back and forth, making memories to later construct a map for his courier's report. The large area was bordered to the Southeast by a road of stone and the small village who had received so many fae blessings. The other end of the road ended in a fell city that stunk like the Winter Court and the Slaughter Pens of Jotunheim. Directly east of the rift was a glade of Ironwood Hickory, and to the west, a grove of Apple Dryads.

Returning to the rift, he saw that it had grown slightly bigger and one of the unicorns had stumbled through. The beast was happily making a meal of the local vegetation. Seeing the hound, it ran off towards an apple grove in the distance. Good riddance thought the hound, if only all of them would come through. Turning that thought over and over in his head, he decided that this really was in the unicorn’s best interest. Lots of room to roam, and plenty to eat. Surely, no one would miss them.

After travelling back through the rift, Lord Hound had found many more of the creatures clustered around it, sniffing the air and getting up their courage to venture forth. It had taken only a small description of the area get the hungry unicorns jumping into the portal one by one. He had spent the rest of the morning herding all but the original two into the portal. The mated pair were bound by their agreement to stay in Alwyn's realm, even if there progeny were not. While sad to see them go, they would enjoy the solitude.

It was getting on into the afternoon when the hound decided enough was enough. He picked up his still sleeping Courier and tossed him into the duck pond. TwitterBerry came to the surface yelling and sputtering. He began to complain about the unfaithfulness of hounds and canines in general, when he saw the light from the pulsing rift. "Oh shit! When did that show up? We didn't expect it for another week! Damn, I've got to get his Lordship down here and get that thing under control!"

The size of the doorway to the Fae Mound from Alwyn's tiny realm in Underhill would have been controlled by its border. But with no frame or border constructed for the magical doorway, it was simply a jagged tear that would continue to grow as it gained power. Alwyn and TwitterBerry solved this problem by moving a gazebo made of silvered filigree to the rift, and anchoring the magical gate inside of it.

The gazebo had been in the family for a dozen generations, passed down along his mother’s side, one of the last heirlooms of her family that she possessed. He was sure to hear a few choice words from his mother about its current use. But only if she ever came home. She had decided on to pursue a passion to become a trapeze artist in a traveling circus. It was her dream as a child, and after her husband's death she had left Alwyn to begin his tenure as Summer Lord and went off chasing her imagination.

On the other side of the rift, things were not going according to any plan. Alwyn had selected what he had assumed to the perfect spot for his Fae Mound to appear, deep into a primordial oak forest, safe from prying mortal eyes. The last survey of the mortal lands had been just a century ago, and he hadn't expected much to have changed. Instead, the Fae Mound was surrounded by a full mile of empty meadow. Hungry unicorns pranced and capered, eating the mundane vegetation and creating a beautiful glade. The sheer amount of wild magic coming from the unicorns affected the rift, as did the natural magic of the nearby woodland glades, and the dark roots of Gadobhra that stretched everywhere.

The unicorns were shaggy and ungroomed. This led to many seeds from the Fae Realm gardens tagging along in their manes and tails. Those seeds now sprouted in different parts of the glade where the unicorns rolled on the ground and played games. Fae Realm plants were boring to the unicorns and went unmolested by them. They preferred the taste of the newer plants.

One seed in particular fell to the ground as a unicorn exited the rift. The small seed was trampled into the ground by a hoof, and began to take root. An hour later it was a four-foot-tall seedling. By the time Lord Hound had dunked TwitterBerry into the pound the tree was thirty feet tall and putting out branches adorned with glorious yellow and orange leaves. Alwyn’s grandfather had found this species of trees when he visited the mundane world, and was impressed by its bright foliage that so encompassed the colors of summer. He brought them back to his realm where the trees were slowly changed to grow taller and larger.

The tree grew to encompass the rift, and provided the boundary for it. The magic of the rift was now pouring into the tree and enhancing its spectacular growth spurt. By the time Lord Alwyn had finished anchoring the rift into the gazebo, the tree was over a hundred feet tall with a wide trunk over ten feet tall at its base. At this point, The Summer Lord might have still been able to control its growth. But overcome by a bit of mild exertion after a night of heavy drinking, TwitterBerry made the suggestion of some cool lemonade and a small nap until dinner. The Summer Lord agreed and they retired for the night, leaving the tree and the rift in the mundane world to chart their own fate.

For a magical tree of Faerie, this was an ideal spot. The soil had been tended by the oaks for centuries, and it had no competitors for sunlight, water, or the surrounding magic. The rift itself pulled mana to the tree. Slow, thick currents of dark mana were found deep in the earth by questing roots, and the leaves gathered sunlight and radiant mana as it fell from the sky. The tree continued to grow through the night until it reached maturity, attaining a height of over five hundred feet. Its growth slowed, and the rift settled into the tree’s roots, just beneath the ground, creating a hollow area where travelers from the Fae Realm would arrive. Luckily, all the unicorns had passed through the rift hours before, as there was no exit from the room.

The hound made his report to his courier, who in turn passed it on to the Summer Lord. They made plans to venture forth into the mundane world and to construct the other end of the rift the next day. A small feast was held. The hound was tired and simply stole a roasted pig from the kitchen when no one was watching carefully. He took a nap by the gazebo, happy that no unicorn would disturb him.

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