Since the Time of Legends, before the Shattering, even before the Time of Druids, the Pixies inhabited the realm of Kerniu in the Southwest of Albion. A realm that would later become the three counties of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset.
The Pixies and Nockers were the sole kithain of Kerniu, first welcoming the Goblin kith to their homeland at the Time of Druids. Life was tranquil till the times of ill that accompanied the Roman Conquest...
Accompanying the Roman forces, were the Fatae; expansionist kith of Italian heritage. A War of kithain was on the horizon... Entering Kerniu without permission, the Fatae failed to reach an accord with the resident kith, and the Pixies, fearing a takeover, initiated conflict with the Fatae, aided by the Nockers and the Goblin newcomers. The War was brutal, but the Pixies were relentless, driving the Fatae east, beyond their borders. Under the ministrations and diplomacy of the Sidhe, the Fatae were forced by Oath, never again to enter the lands of the Pixies, and despite the long-lasting truce that occured, bad-blood between the two kith is strongly evident.
Despite the fearless and savage reputation they earned during the War, Pixies are a surprisingly happy and relaxed kith, fond of moonlit parties involving lots of dancing and scrumpy (cider). Indeed, they are prone to mischief and pranks, much to the consternation of local mortals.
Having spread with European expansion, the Pixies have found themselves in many strange new lands, adapting well, but refusing to drop their beloved traditions. Of course, they are typically loathe to leave the land of their birth, a fact much akin to the behaviour of many Cornish rural folk.
Pixies are a distinctive kith, fair of skin, with narrow green eyes, turned-up noses, and impish grins. Slender of build, their hair is flame-red and their ears pointed. Standing 2-3" shorter than average in their mortal seemings, they are a further 2-3" shorter again in their Fae seemings. In distant times when they were full-blooded Fae the Pixies were no taller than a man's hand, but having the ability to grow to human adult size, enabled them to mix their blood with man during the harsh time of the Shattering. Sadly, after many generations as changelings they are now 'human' sized permanently, no longer able to resume their former tiny stature.
Originally favouring green garments to better camouflage themselves in the wilds, they maintain a strong fondness for green to this day. Those still native to the Westcountry speak with a distinctive accent called a burr. Many foolish people believe this indicates a lack of intellect. Pixies take great delight in outwitting the wassocks (Westcountry slang for idiot/fool/dickhead etc. pronounced 'wazzocks') who underestimate them. underestimate them.
Childling Pixies (called Urchins) exude playful exuberance, reveling in dance and play. All kinds of mischief occupy their time, and they love playing amid fields of green. They really are ragamuffins, usually dirty, with twigs and leaves twined in their hair.
Wilder Pixies are lovable rogues, often acquiring a taste for traditional Westcountry fare such as Scrumpy (cider), Oggies (Pasties), and clotted cream. They are passionate and playful, but quick to fight a perceived injustice or slight.
Grump Pixies age well, mellowing over time. They bring a much needed air of moderation to the Urchins and Wilders. Lacking the vitality of youth, they act as beloved elders, spending much of their time in rural inns and pubs, drinking scrumpy and musing about the 'good old days' of their youth.
Traditionally Pixies led a vagabond life, but, over time, their changeling nature has driven them into mortal life. Rural pursuits have the most appeal, including farming, performing in local rural bands, tending inns, and even joining toops of Morris Dancers. Pixies are among those few that still support Cornish independence and revival of old traditions.
Nature
'edge 'og: Pixies may transform themselves into hedgehogs when totally alone. Exactly like the Pooka birthright, it costs 1 Glamour to transform, but none to revert.
Pixie-led: A famed Pixie ability, they can utterly befuddle a target, causing him to lose all his bearings and sense of direction, leaving him wandering aimlessly, muttering to themselves. The Pixie spends 1 Glamour point and rolls Manipulation + Enigmas, difficulty of the targets Willpower or Banality (whichever is higher). While 'Pixie-led' the target suffers a -1 Impairment and can't find his way to or from anywhere. The effect lasts for 5 minutes per success.
Fun, fun, fun!: Pixies sadly lack complete control of their passions, much like the Fatae (although you'd do best to avoid making this comparison near either of them). They suffer a +1 Difficulty on all Willpower rolls.
The Twisted Coat: Due to an ancient Oath, the 'Pixie-led' birthright will not work on targets who wear their jacket, coat etc. inside-out or back-to-front. The birthright simply fails if attempted but still consumes the Glamour point.
Oi! Ye' gurt big wassock! Hahahah!
Adh-Sidhe: Oi don't envy yer burden matey.
As well you don't my little friend. It's a thankless task.
Bean-Sidhe: Thar now. Wipe those tears an' come dance wiv' me.
(sniff) Thankyou.
Bendith y Mamau: That thar's a good fiddle innit!
Slow down! I can't keep up with the dance!
Boggan: The best oggie Oi ever did taste. Luvverly!
(blush) These 'oggies' are delicious aren't they.
Eshu: That's a good 'un! Ow's about another then matey?
Lishen...arre yoo sure this 'scrumpy' is only applejuish...?
Fatae: Bugger off 'afore Oi wallop yer!
You dare to threaten m...Ow!
Goblin: Oi think he thar deserves a good prankin' You wiv' me?
One hundred percent. Just give me a moment to pick up this squashed slug...
Leprechaun: That's me best Scrumpy ya' greedy wassock!
Burp. Feck off!
Nocker: Oi ye old fart! C'mon out an' 'ave some Scrumpy!
Bugger off ye annoyin' wassock!
Pooka: Heh heh. That was a foine bit of trickery. Ho Ho.
(chuckle) It was awful. (chortle)
Redcap: Oi! Go steady, guzzleguts!
(munch) S'rry bu' s'gd (chomp)
Satyr: That's what Oi call music!
Dance for all your worth my friend!
Selkie: Brrr...must be cold off the coast?
Yes. The weathers turning for the worse.
Sidhe: Oi don't care who ye are! Bugger off!
The indignity of it!
Sluagh: Oi really don't know what to make of yer?
Good...
Troll: Now sit down 'ere an' 'ave another brew me ol' matey.
My thanks.
