Dark Holes in the World
He's Just A Little Guy - Intermission Bluebook
Ask any mortal to describe a pixie, and you’re likely to hear the same answer time and time again: A diminutive, elf-like creature, flitting about on delicate wings, like a butterfly, or perhaps a hummingbird. Magical pranksters, but good-natured and reclusive. They live in charming, cozy houses, carved into tree trunks and hollowed-out toadstools. Whenever a mortal child draws their first breath, the Fey Folk also rejoice at the arrival of a new pixie in their realm. A pixie hero fights for joy and laughter, and they carry tiny swords, which they name “Needle”, or “Bee-Sting”.
This is Summer Court propaganda — A partial truth at best, and one meant to uphold the aesthetic hegemony of the eladrin. It is an erasure of the vast and incredible biodiversity that exists in the Feywild. Magic suffuses the very fabric of this plane, it passes through the dark gutters of its cities as easily as it does through its pristine wilderness. In these pockets, where nature and civilization clash, this Weave gives birth to strange and wondrous creatures, which any self-respecting eladrin would demur to describe.
Jeebler Rindcheez is one such creature. If you saw Jeebler from afar (if he let you see him at all), you might easily mistake him for a very small child, dressed in a tattered cloak, furtively darting between hiding spots, with some stolen food or bauble in hand.
If you had the unfortunate idea to chase and corner him, this is what you might see, a few seconds before being poked in the eye with a tiny, un-named sword:
A scant foot tall, squat, with sharp teeth, bulbous compound eyes, and iridescent blue scales, Jeebler brings to mind a middle-aged goblin merged with a bluebottle fly in some artificer’s teleportation experiment gone awry, rather than the stereotypical storybook pixie. A patchwork of repurposed leather and quilted armor protects him, though it is torn open at the back to allow him to unfurl his large diaphanous wings. He has few social graces or guile, and when he thinks of a new jape or larceny, his face lights up with unnerving glee, and his wings beat and buzz erratically.
Jeebler’s arrival in the Gloaming Court was met with little fanfare — in fact, nobody noticed him at all when he first emerged from the dust and cobblestones in one of Astrazalian’s starlit alleyways. But when he saw the people milling about through the city streets for the first time, he immediately and instinctively understood his own place, and set to the mischief that pixies are known best for.
Perhaps most infuriating to the victims of Jeebler’s crimes is his apparent lack of motivation for doing them in the first place. One merchant reported returning from a business trip to find the entire stock of her bookstore replaced with fine musical instruments, and a scrawled note reading “ever thought about luthiery?”
In another incident, the night before a parade in honour of visiting dignitaries from the Green Fey, a clutch of Rust Monster eggs hatched in an armory containing the city guards’ dress uniforms, leading to several embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions. The Astrazalian guard never caught the ones responsible for this vandalism.
There are many other accounts over the last decade of people finding stolen property “replaced” the next day, with completely different objects, sometimes of lesser, sometimes of greater value, leaving more honest people the task of sorting out who owns what. While Jeebler would never take credit for any of these crimes, he is always happy to hear stories about these exploits spread around the taverns and dicehalls of the city.
So if you notice things start to go missing more often than usual, or unfamiliar objects appearing where they shouldn’t, you’re probably just becoming forgetful.
But it couldn’t hurt to leave a bowl of sour milk on the windowsill, just in case.