Dullahan

Courting Rebellion

All spirits are born from mortal want - similarly to how gods (most of them, anyways) rise from mortal hope. Pixies slip from in between flower petals when a child laughs, and when a wizard ponders how to gain more power a familiar spirit seeps from her shadow. And Dullahan crawl up from between the cracks in pavement when the impoverished overthrow the ruling class.

Once, they were a court of low fey who wished to upturn the power structure. They fashioned a guillotine and intended to dispose of the highest-ups on their home plane with it. They were eventually discovered, and their own tool used against them. Most died, of course. But it's said that some waited for the rabble to run off, collected their heads from off the ground, and fled onto the Material Plane. Now only the foolhardy speak of them, with the epithet of the Headless Court.

They're usually found in abandoned buildings. The old church in the woods that's only used for its graveyard nowadays. On top of a stretch of aqueduct left behind by an ancient civilization. The room at the end of the hall in your tenement building. These are where they hold their court, spinning their great wheels (also used as coat racks, but for heads) and dancing. The guillotine, blade polished to a mirror shine, sits in the center of the space - which seems much bigger on the inside. They are waiting. Waiting for you!

Jevil is a Dullahan.

Because everyone knows the Headless Court has helped with all the world's greatest revolutions. The Lightclaimers, the Tenth Empire, the Alquari - all danced with the Dullahan, and they were the builders of nations for it. The foundations of which were laid, of course, with skulls.

And when you come, they will whisper their words, sweet as honey mead, bitter as wine-turned-vinegar. They will tell you that history is a cycle. A society is born, and the ambitious corrupt it, placing themselves as the ruling class. They plunder the labor from the poor, who then rise up to put them to the sword. And a new society is born - one turn closer to perfection. But the wheel has stagnated - won't you give it a nudge? Look how it glitters in the moonlight. It's waiting for you, dear.

Inevitably, someone does nudge it. The wheel of history turns, and there is much rejoicing. The rest of the night is spent in revelry, wild dancing and ball-games with the laughing heads of the Good Folk. And when morning comes, the spinner wakes up alone. And gets to work.

Start your revolution. Make it successful. The more join your cause, the more new Dullahan are born. Bring a noble back to the abandoned room every fourth Rimhrset, and we'll liberate them of their head for you. There will be more rejoicing, and all your new friends are welcome, too!

And if you come empty handed?

Not to worry, dear. Your own head is quite pretty. It will make a fine substitute.