Welcome to the realm of the fae.

Delightful is the land beyond all dreams,
Fairer than aught thine eyes have ever seen.
There all the year the fruit is on the tree,
And all the year the bloom is on the flower.

There with wild honey drip the forest trees;
The stores of wine and mead shall never fail.
Nor pain nor sickness knows the dweller there,
Death and decay come near him never more.

The feast shall cloy not, nor the chase shall tire,
Nor music cease for ever through the hall;
The gold and jewels of the Land of Youth
Outshine all splendors ever dreamed by man.

A crown of sovereignty thy brow shall wear,
And by thy side a magic blade shall hang,
And thou shalt be lord of all the Land of Youth,
And lord of Niam of the Head of Gold."

Tir Nan Og, the Land of the Ever-Young, lies to the West, seen by humans through a chill sea mist, a land of eternal Springtime, where all is peace and happiness. No map made by human hands could guide you there...it is only by the will of the faerie folk that one may enter that enchanted domain. The Irish call them Tuatha de Danann, the children of the Goddess Danu: protected by her powerful Magick and given the Blessed Isle on which to live, they represent to humankind the epitome of Beauty, Perfection, and Joy. No ploughing, no work is needed to make a living in Tir Nan Og: the faerie make love, have feasts, hunt and even play at war with one another--those that die one day are resurrected the next morning to join in the fun again. Occasionally, they grow curious about the humans who live on the other side of the Great Mist, or need to strengthen themselves with a fresh and vigorous human bloodline--and that is when they step out of their dark forests, through the silvery mist to be called into Legend...

The High King of the Tuatha de Danann is Fin Bheara, crafty and courageous Faerie Lord, with a gift for the game of Chess, great skill at running the Hunt, and an eye for Beauty. One long tale tells of his kidnapping of the Bride Ethna, the lovely wife of a human King, right on the evening of the Wedding. He is also considered a King of the Dead, dressed all in black, and the owner of a stable of fine ebony horses, who run as swift as the wind and never tire. Occasionally he will lend one to a mortal in need, such as the Kirwans of Galway--of course, he *always* expects a favour in return! The Faerie mound where he live is Knockma, and woe to any mortal who enters and is foolish enough to eat at the Faerie Feast there--he would be trapped forever...

The Fir Darrig, which means "Red Man" is a faerie imminently fond of practical jokes, especially gruesome ones, and usually appears as a rather squat, very wrinkled old man in a ragged red coat and hat, long, coarse grey hair and smoking a blackthorn pipe. He is sometimes thought to have been an unlucky former human who had wandered into the fairy hills by chance, and would often try to give advice to those who were about to make the same mistake.

He loves to startle folks by knocking on their door in the dead of night and asking to warm himself by the fire--it is VERY bad luck to refuse him: the result could be anything from cattle with the Pox, to the finding of a hideous changeling in the baby's crib the next morning. If cozened and given something good to eat (they prefer milk and sweetmeats), then one could find gold on the table, or ask a wish for one's family: to take a Wish, though, is not often wise, as the Fir Darrig's weird sense of humor could turn the words of your wish into something less than desirable.
The Merrows are Irish faerie mermaids: gentle and very beautiful. They are a dreaded sight at sea, though, for their presence foretells the advent of great storms. The merrows often have great knowledge of the healing powers of herbs and plants, and can cure most any illness. Because of this, those who live by the ocean can ask a special boon of them for a sick child--they have a fondness for human children. Sometimes, however, if the child is a handsome male, the Merrows would consider the boy to be their own, and seduce him when him reached young manhood. The children of these matches, while slim and fair as their faerie mothers, often had scales covering the skin or fishes tails.

At times, when coming ashore, they appeared as small, white, hornless cattle, lowing in a musical voice. When in the shape of beautiful women, they wear caps with long, red feathers: if you steal these caps, they cannot return to the sea. The male merrows, while jovial and generably amiable, are quite ugly, with pig noses and squinty eyes.
The Lepracaun is probably the most well-recognized of the Irish Faerie Folk, his name said to have been derived from "leith bhrogan", the "one-shoe-maker", because he is generally seen working on a single shoe at a time. Being an Earth spirit, like the Gnome, and solitary by nature, he knows where the Earth's treasures lie hidden. One of his favorite tricks is, having given a hint of the location of the gold or jewels, he genially offers one a pinch of his finest snuff--then blows it into one's face, as he disappears into the woods, laughing maniacally.

Some lepracauns have a taste for Irish whiskey, and could be found in the cellars of prosperous farmers, carousing with the local brownies, dancing a jig or playing a sailor's hornpipe. It is best, at such times, to let them alone to have their fun--rather suffer a sleepless night than a Lepracaun's drunken curse!

The Roanes are the Gaelic Seal people, the gentlest of all the faerie folk. They are said to have been humans not evil enough for Hell, yet not pure enough to enter Heaven, and so were banished to the Sea. The seal-folk have a natural human form,and live underwater or on lonely skerries, putting on seal-skins to enable them to pass through the waters from one region of air to another. Though generally kind to humans, they will avenge the death of one of their own by raising great storms, and thus sinking the boats of the seal-catchers.

Both male and female Roanes are meltingly beautiful, with large, dark eyes and liquid movements that never fail to catch the attentions of amorous humans. They are not always constant lovers, though, and long for the sea, seeking any chance to return to it. There are many tales of men taking a Roane bride by capturing her on land, and taking possession of her discarded seal-skin.
The Glaistig has many different attributes, depending in which part of Ireland-or Scotland-you find her. She is often described as having a beautiful female form, with the legs of a goat. The Glaistig is a Water spirit, always living in close proximity to rivers, waterfalls, and streams. In some incarnations she is like the Banshee, mourning the death of her favourite humans. Her nature is basically benign, and she is very fond of children and old people, and partial to pregnant women. The Glaistig frequently have been seen herding cattle, caring for them secretly at night, and blessing them with abundant milk: for this favor, she is to be given libations of milk and honey.

Faeries, often perverse, will take on unexpected forms--and so she is sometimes seen as a murderous seductress, preying on unwary males who venture near her protected brooks and waterfalls. In this form she is vampiric, like the Lhiannon-Sidhe, but darker, draining the life energies of her human lover, and leaving him pale and lifeless on the shore of her haunted woodland stream.