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"What mirth be this? A mortal, set to interfere in my play? Oh-ho! What sport! La, what a canny challenge. I've bested Kings and Grail Knights, and poured poison into the ears of slumbering poets and saints. Do you see our new playmate, my lovelies? My sweetlings? My pixie pets? How long will you last before ol' Tamlin drives ye mad! Mad as me! Mad as May! Mad, mad, mad! But here I am clucking away while your short little life is running down by the second! Silly head! Now, have at thee!"

-Tamlin, Fey Blackguard




    Tamlin was once one of the mysterious Fae who roamed the english isles thousands of years ago but the mercurial and carefree nature of fairy-kind oft leads down the path of dark temptation and Tamlin, over the centuries, succumbed to evil.

    He has pale skin and mad, white-green hair, sweeping up between pointed ears. He wears a doublet he tricked away from some King, now enchanted with magical runes of protection. He also has a pair of Pixie Boots, with fairy wings on the heels that allow him to fly. He has a green cloak, claimed from a slain elf, that allows him to hide in any shadow and he carries a black sword that he’s been cursed to never lay down.

    The Shroud, as it’s now called, was a silver blade once. But when the Fairy Queen discovered all the bodies of all the mortals he had been slaying with it, brought back to the Fey as trophies she was revolted. It was too much! Tamlin was cast out of the court of the good queen and exiled from the Fey. His sword turned black as his lips, then thorns bound it to him, wrist and hand. Its true name was struck from all memory and it became Tamlin’s Shroud.

    Now Tamlin wanders the mortal world, deceiving, corrupting, and killing. He wields magic of shadow and twisted nature. He has an alluring Fae voice which can be used to charm people and bend them to his will. He is attended by a host of lesser nixies, pixies, sprites, and imps that have wandered into his influence and turned into his malevolent servants. They act as his retainers, his courtiers, and his secret spies. Tamlin can also pluck these unfortunate little flits from the air in battle and throw them at his enemies, causing the fey-turned-missiles to explode in a kaleidoscope of magical energy on impact.

    Tamlin’s overall goal is to break his curse of banishment and return home... Or to rule the human world… Or to marry the most beautiful maiden in the land… Or to own all the gold everywhere… Or to turn Union City into an enchanted forest… Or to kill that damned Marid! It’s constantly changing.

    Tamlin’s mind wanders, and so, more than once, he has wandered off in the middle of some devilish scheme because he smelled coffee and decided to become Lord and Master of the local Java Jive or because he decided to chase a cat that he saw. But this makes Tamlin no less dangerous. He is ancient, his malevolence feeds him, and his magics are chaotic and unpredictable, not to mention the ever-deadly Shroud that forever carries in his left hand.

    Tamlin was drawn to Union City in the mid-twentieth century to steal an artifact from the Orange Eternal’s Weirdwood Mansion but he found the city a vortex of magical potential and stayed. He tried to turn all the Shadow Hoods of his new home into fairy forests, transforming the skyways into huge trees, the buildings into groves and copses, and the people into woodland creatures. Marid the Demoness tracked down Tamlin who mocked her and tried to turn her into a bear that he would use as a personal guard, but Marid’s Demonic Possession protected her from the fey. She blasted him with bedeviled bullets and Tamlin’s dark sword Shroud clashed against a hell-forged Bone Blade summoned by the Demoness. Marid defeated Tamlin, sending his scurrying through the shadows as the transmuted neighborhoods and citizens reverted to their original forms.

    Ever since this encounter Tamlin’s mind has, from time to time, wandered to Marid and obsessed on her destruction. He’s learned her secret identity, targeted her loved ones, tried to expose and humiliate her. This has led to a series of climactic and high-stakes battles between the two. Tamlin is lurking even now in the shadows of Union City, his twisted mind turning some dark plot, ready to strike when least expected and to leave chaos, loss, and corruption in his wake! 


Tamlin is a fairy trickster, a serial killer, a would-be Shakespearean trope, a wicked jester, and an insane king all in one. He talks to himself and to the mad little imps that constantly flit about and cling to him, monologuing, going on tangents, madly chattering or even reciting entire passages of long-forgotten epics and idylls. Tamlin is mercurial to say the least and he easily latches onto new schemes, new themes, and new obsessions, just as easily forgetting about even the most heart-felt grudge... But never forever. Those who have earned Tamlin's ire could be discarded for weeks, months, years, or decades, but with a change in the wind or a twinkling of a little fairy finger Tamlin might be back, just as intent and focused as ever. Tamlin is immortal, after all, and he has all the time in the world to make sure his mortal foes get their full measure of misery. 



Introduction: “Hail and ill met, mortal kind. You've crossed paths with the blackest cat this day. Your mirrors broken. Your milk's soured. Tamlin is the name, and the last one you'll be hearing.”

Exclamations: "Fie and Flit!” - “Shrieking shadows!”  - “Hehehhhhhe! Oh, now you die little man-beast. No more silly capes and adventures only graveworms and dirt for you!” 

On his legacy: “I've stalked across the short history of man like a creepy little spider come a huntin' amongst ye little folk. What care I for your songs o Tamlin? You won't be around long enough for anyone to care.”

On his outfit: “Ach, made with care and craft, they were. Nicer than nice. Made for braver, wiser, kinder folk than I. Men that gave em up each and every one of 'em to me, at the point of my ploy or my Shroud. Men dead and buried and gone and here am I, Tamlin, in all my fine finery. Say, that's a pretty little thing you're wearing there.

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