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 Aeshma, pied piper


The Pied Piper // original -- grandfathered into Sleeping Beauty

The Pied Piper

Portrayed By Adam Lambert

Created By: Felix
Gender: Nonbinary
Age: 3480
Species: Fae
Position: Mercenary of Xehacora
See Also:
Felix (player page)
Fae< (species)br> Maleficent (former employer)
Sadhbh (not yet made, Faemiliar)
Aeshma, also known in some parts of the world as the Pied Piper, is a fae older than Allutheria. He was a part of Ga'leah when the world was young, crafted by the gods and given to the fae as a plaything. He fought against the gods, before his banishment to Allutheria--and despite his resentment and hatred of his new home, he always felt allegiance and gratitude to the goddess who had saved them from death. Aeshma began to work for the Order of Fate, realizing the opportunity he now had to leave the fairyland prison. His loyalty was never that strong, and when it struck him that he could in fact leave--he did so.

It was as a fae in Ga'leah that Aeshma began to make his name as the Pied Piper, a mercenary with magics and an enchanting pipe that seemed almost otherworldly. Perhaps most famously, the piper had rid a town of rats--only to be refused payment. But Aeshma took his own payment; by enthralling the town's children, and selling them off to Jareth, the Goblin King in Allutheria. Morals were never his strong suit--and when Maleficient, queen of Xehacora--and formerly the savior of the fae--requested his service--Aeshma gave it gladly, to assist her goals in overthrowing the gods.

His Body


Aeshma is fae, and as such, his appearance is in flux. He has magic at his fingertips, and while all fae are capable of crafting illusion, the art of disguise and of fooling the eye, for his own form and others, is what he feels is his calling. He tends to appear as the same basic shape, but with little embellishments here and there, depending on the situation. Taking the form of another entirely is done only when necessary for safety--though fond of creating illusion, Aeshma is also an arrogant and narcissistic being, with a love for his own features.

He is around 5'10'', normally, with pale and slightly freckled skin. His eyes are hooded and dark-lined, with the same dark brows arching in amusement or anger. His eyes are most often gol, though the color shifts readily. He is built broad, with more bulk perhaps than you might expect of such a slippery fellow. He clearly puts care into his clothing, often dark or else colorful patterns, from rich scarlet to deep plum shades.


His voice is calm and clear, with an almost sing-song lilt to it. He is expressive and never monotonous--his voice is one you feel you must listen to, just to see what he'll say next. He is teasing and sly, but can often sound quite sweet, caring and genuine--he never is.


Aeshma moves carefully, sensuously. Everything he does is as if in performance--a hand gesture, his gait. The sway of his hips or the tilt of his head, all is for the dramatic effect, and yet very little of it is intentionally so; it is simply instinct for the fae at this point.

Personal Effects

He has a few trinkets always to be found on his person, the most obvious of course being his pipe. Rich red wood, engraved with text--the word 'revenge'. He had crafted the pipe himself, and it always is at his hip, ready to be played. The piper wears quite a lot of trinkets and jewelry, notably bracelets of wooden varnished beads. Rings--simple bands of gold and silver, often studded with a blue or purple or green gemstone. His ears are pierced with silver rings and he wears a few necklaces--from pendants holding folk charms to well-crafted gemstones. Aeshma enjoys collecting trinkets, jewelry, and the like from the places he travels.

His Story

His Beginning

Aeshma. A name that should be spoken with a hush, if ever at all--the fae, old enough to have seen the battle, to have fought against the pantheon in his childish fear and arrogance, was never entranced by the charms of Allutheria, his paradise prison--never content to live on and let things be as they were.


It was a beautiful world in which he came into being; a sense of belonging and home and pride, in himself, in his beauty and the fantasy of everything around him, filled his soul to the brim--new life could hardly be contained, and with the power he, like the rest of his kind, were given, and the lack of hard dangers and grueling survival, with benevolent masters and a life in Eden--nothing was learned. All was joy, yet nothing came of it. Imagine a child, growing up, yet always, always contained, always provided for and cared for, given everything it wants--yet the child only grows in power, as it matures.
Aeshma was a child, who wanted more, as all children do. He saw the light that the gods held, the power within the pantheon, and, though nearing maturity, still thought only selfishly, in terms a human toddler could understand. He was not the only one, and easily caught up in the anger, the hurt and the selfish greed that was all they could ever know, with no guidance and no goal but their own pleasure.

And so he fought. He was torn by this, the first notion of violence and unhappiness deep seated in his being, with such a need for what others had and every time, beaten back by those more powerful--foolish and driven by anger, the fae was torn from a peaceful, blissful life and shoved into a war-torn and hateful one, the effects of which have only continued to grow throughout his life.

His Adulthood

Aeshma was imprisoned, in Allutheria. That was how he had always felt; trapped because he was too powerful, too strong for the Pantheon to deal with. He and his brethren were caged for no crime but that which the gods themselves had ordained--he felt wronged, and could not see beauty in what the fae created of Allutheria; only a shambles, making do with what they had after having everything torn from them. Such frivolities and pastimes were merely distractions, attempts to pacify themselves while the world moved on--trying to forget the clearly horrendous mistake it had made in creating them. Him.
Though he could stomach the void, amuse himself, distract himself, Aeshma never became truly assimilated, consumed with his resentment and still burning greed for the world of humanity. He lived isolated, occupying himself with himself, with his home, and with his thoughts. Those fae he'd known when he was young, who he might have called friends, he forgot, or else avoided. The courts never gained support from Aeshma, as he thought them a farce, disgustingly naive and content--placid sheep in their pen; which were his thoughts on just about everyone in Allutheria, himself excluded. Did he truly believe all of his race were content in Allutheria?
Yes, to put it simply. He could not see their anger or their efforts, not at first--feeling like the only wakened one in a city of dreamers, his arrogance surpassed even plenty of the fae, blinding him to the companionship he could very well have rejoiced in, rebelled with instead of against--and eventually, that did happen, far later than it should have--and Aeshma's bitterness only grew.

When the Order of Fate came into being, Aeshma had already been hard at work, destroying the bonds of reality between Allutheria and humanity, and he had known--dreaded, in fact, the fae's reactions. That they would regulate their own freedom, only to preserve some cowardly truce with the gods that had caused all this, and in this he was outspoken--and it was only his age and power that kept him alive; and to an extent, his intelligence, which, while not strong enough to hold back his anger and rash words, was enough to apologize for them after the fact; and to make brilliant amends--for his magic was strong, and he certainly could be of use to those who wished him. It was in this dangerous lifestyle, arguing with the very people he'd only moments later, do anything for to keep his skin safe, that Aeshma began to realize how little he cared for any of them. His loyalties...were not to Allutheria. He felt a sense of duty, to the fae as whole--to let them out. To let them free, without bounds, onto the world that was rightfully theirs--but he despised them for letting this be their life.

This was not their life.

But the fae, who had taken to calling himself a demon in light of his absolute hatred of the gods--had one place in his heart not solely for loyalty--but for admiration, and in some odd sense, love; though far be it from him to ever feel, romantic or even sexual. Adora, the goddess--he knew she had blamed the gods, as he had. He knew it was because of her they were alive--and despite his resentment of their 'prison', he could not deny his gratitude towards her for his life. She did not know him, nor he she, personally-- but as the land of Xehacora came within reach--and thus, the whole of the human world--his thoughts turned to her. He wanted to meet her--thank her. And..perhaps....be free of Allutheria. For good. He felt no bondage of loyalty to anyone but she who had risked life and limb for him and for his kind. For she who had been so mistreated--though he was not aware, perhaps, of the extent to which she had been punished for crimes he was not even aware of--not until later.

He had begun to see it, in his caged home--the blight's influence. He'd seen it--confronted with a portal near what would be Yarrow, on the outside--he'd seen fae, twisted and changed; and it was that which scared him from entering the portal out of fear of what lay on the other side. His isolation had led to him being ignorant of much of the goings on, out there; and this first, very real encounter was eye opening for him.

He had needed to leave. He knew that much--his world was not with that of the fae, not with those who chose to remain when there was still a way out. Not while the Blight took over, not while he still had life in his body. Throughout his long, miserable life in Allutheria, he had isolated himself, while still constantly working for the Order out of sheer necessity; to remain in good graces, he could make up for his obvious hatred by providing service, until that day when he could no longer take it. The blight was coming ever faster and it felt his time was running out.

He wasn't going to let it.
So Aeshma left. One day, he simply left, as if on a mission--but he tossed his head, smiled--for the first time, letting his responsibilities fall away and not focus on the task at hand--because what task was there? None. No longer did he need to hide the wonders of the world from everyone, lock them up--just like he, the fae were locked up. Well, not anymore. His freedom was assured--he'd like to see the gods, in their sorry state, try to put him back, as the fabric of Allutheria was crumbling. He began to wander; with no purpose, he enjoyed his newfound freedom more than he'd enjoyed anything--he'd come close to dying at the hands of the walking starvation, and he had to rely on his wits and his power to survive--not a difficult task, with power such as his own, but still so refreshing. So new. His hatred of the pantheon for taking this from him--it only grew, but instead of festering in a doomed, jaded fae, it sparked him to life and to delighted rage; he began to take ever more pleasure in openly despising the gods, in cursing their names. He took freelance work, for pay he would use his magic--and there were quite a lot who desired his magic, this day and age. He would take their money, their goods; whatever it was they had that he wanted, and often it was not something he needed in the slightest; he'd taken livestock and killed it, left it to rot, and how he'd loved it.

The fact was-- he was exhilarated, and giddy; and acting on impulse more than he had in his entire life, since the war between the pantheon and the fae. A newfound sense of sadism, driven more by curiosity and a lack of empathy--and then, later, by a sort of channel for his anger--than a pure desire to hurt that which he did--was quickly growing. But a new interest had begun to present itself to Aeshma; and that was music.

The Piper's Pipe

He'd crafted it himself, after he'd first heard one play, and began to realize the bewitching talent he possessed; laced with magic, his pipe entranced the listener, even himself--and his silver tongue, nimble fingers, quickly became known..with one escapade to a town in Xehacora. He knew where he was--that Maleficent ruled, here, but truthfully, all thoughts of meeting with her had faded, as his gratitude towards her had waned, his thoughts of righteous vengeance fading as he grew accustomed to his new life. That all changed, when he charmed the rats of Hamelin; and when he was refused payment. Rage was hardly what you'd call his reaction--in fact, he seemed almost to relish the silence with which he was met, as he asked for the agreed settlement. He let a cold smile slip, and he'd left.

And that night, Aeshma, Piper--who called himself a demon, a fae of the other world, led the children away, from screaming mothers and bellowing fathers. He kept himself shrouded, safe; untouchable, just as the children--until his palm made contact with the payment that Jareth, Goblin King had agreed upon. Some people remembered their debts.

Soon enough, he was called before her--queen of Xehacora, former Goddess, savior of the fae and--in Aeshma's eyes--nothing but power. He was awed, humbled; for the first time in his life, full of respect for the woman he knew he owed much--and had yet to repay. Her offer seemed too good to be true; and in a heartbeat, the fae took it, despite misgivings about the other gods taking part--he wanted to bring them down. The Pantheon would be no more--and if Maleficent betrayed him? If she refused him godhood? Then so be it. He would have helped to bring about the end of a tyranny, a tyranny he shuddered to live under, and he could be killed for it, or he could kill for it, or both. The Pied Piper had purpose, renewed.

Life in Xehacora--working for Maleficient.

Aeshma was fascinated with castle life, taking it upon himself to get quite...acquainted with the inhabitants. He would seek out the most powerful, the most frightening. Melusina among them--he had always had such a fascination for the dragon. Now--Maleficient had hired him, but for the most part, his job was still unstructured, with many freedoms. He would make 'visits' to certain homes or villages that were not properly...respecting their queen, and he would teach them a little lesson. Perhaps it was selling their children to the Goblin King. Once, they had been transformed into pigs. He liked that one. He liked collecting trinkets from each family he visited, each mayor he threatened and punished to the very limits of his creativity. Antiques and riches he would offer to his Queen, but he was just as likely to keep them for himself.

His favorites are the protective charms people wear--never doing any good to stop him. They are his trophies, of sorts, and he wears them. He's fond of showing off, talking about his stories and 'adventures' of causing destruction, mayhem, and heartbreak. He had the freedom from his queen--she trusted him to use his imagination.

The Solhara Blight

Aeshma was not involved in Solhara--and in fact, he began to withdraw from Ga'leah, when he realized the danger in venturing outside of Xehacora. He was almost thrilled by the havoc being wreaked, by the news of the Stormbringer--but he wasn't about to go out and get killed. He remained in Xehacora, biding his time and maintaining his loyalty to the Queen. During the final attempt to stop the Blight occurred, Aeshma was not thrown into the future, but rather lived through it. He did not knowingly contribute to the end of the Blight nor did he wish to--but living under Maleficent in those times, he began to realize the chafing reality of such a constricted world. Yes--he had food and water, and cared not that others were lacking. But not being able to roam such a paradise as he once could was disappointing, and bleak--and that was a fate he knew not how to live with.

The end of the Blight

But then the Blight ended--and now? Maleficent, his queen, is dead. Ga'leah is available to him once more. But his mind is not made up, nor his desires clear. The traces of the blight left on the land have left him unsettled, the voices in the Wastes pleading with him, haunting him. Remorse is not an emotion the fae is familiar with, but perhaps that is what he's experiencing. He's taken to his travelling ways once more, attempting to bide his time. Get to know the world he's a part of, and without a strict goal--the life of a wandering musician is an exciting one.

However, magic is despised in the land--and magic-users. Rather than his presence being feared by some and unknown by most--the world is looking for fae and witches, half-fae and all creatures who hold magic. Tales of those who can take one's magic away chill the bones of anyone used to wielding such power, and Aeshma is no exception. For once in his life--he is laying low.

His Mind


Aeshma is old. That being said, it seems in many ways his bent on revenge and power has corrupted him in ways that have kept him from maturing; his emotions are hot-blooded and he's rarely, if ever, capable of concealing true anger or passion of any sort. He knows how to fake a smile and how to lie, but once something more real takes root in his mind, it becomes far more external quickly. He often has trouble seeing the forest for the trees, and


Magical power ; Lack of empathy ; Intelligence ; Loyalty ; Independent ;


Lack of empathy ; Ignorance of Ga'leah ; Fear ; Recklessness ; Desperation ;
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