Aos-sí (Ees-shee)
Supernatural Being
Legends whisper that when twilight settles and the last light dances on the moss-covered stones, the Aos-sí stir. Neither fully mortal nor entirely divine, these beings walk the spaces in between—guardians of the old places, the quiet groves, and the windswept hills that remember the footsteps of gods. They emerge like dreams made flesh, radiant and silent, their presence a hush upon the air. In Tír na nÓg, where all paths lead to memory, the Aos-sí find not only sanctuary but purpose.
Their existence is tethered to harmony—of nature, of magic, of memory itself. They move with an unhurried grace, seemingly untouched by time’s erosion. Whether laughing beneath star-kissed branches or standing solemn watch over ancient cairns, they give the impression of beings sculpted not from flesh and bone, but from the lingering essence of song, sorrow, and sunrise. Everything they do is deliberate, shaped by centuries of knowing.
The Aos-sí do not wear their power loudly. It hums beneath their skin like a forgotten melody, emerging only when needed. They do not challenge the order of the world but preserve its balance—quietly mending broken boundaries between realms, or coaxing a withered bloom to life with a breath. Many in Tír na nÓg consider them kin to the land itself: not its rulers, but its reflections.
Despite their aloof nature, the Aos-sí are not cold. They form bonds that are deep and rare, slow to build but unbreakable once forged. Their affection is steady, marked by quiet gestures and long companionships. They are said to sing lullabies older than language and to mourn their dead with silence rather than tears. Time touches them differently, and so too does love.
They do not gather in cities, but in groves and starlit hollows. Even their homes seem grown rather than built—woven into root systems, coaxed from stone, or hidden behind veils of illusion. Visitors who come in peace may find themselves guided gently by unseen hands, while those who mean harm simply lose their way.
To meet an Aos-sí is to sense the world holding its breath. They are not the gods—but they are god-touched, and their stories echo across the fabric of Tír na nÓg like wind over water. They are not meant to be understood entirely. They are meant to be felt.
Aetherkin
Basic Information
Biological Traits
They are exceptionally long-lived, aging so slowly that a century may pass before a visible change occurs. They possess innate magical resonance—often attuned to natural forces like water, wind, or growth. Their regenerative ability enables recovery from most injuries over time.
Behaviour
Private, deliberate, and profoundly observant. The Aos-sí prefer indirect influence to confrontation. Their words are carefully chosen, and their silences often say more. When they act, it is rarely impulsive. They value equilibrium and detest chaos.
Additional Information
Perception and Sensory Capabilities
Their senses operate beyond the mortal spectrum. They can perceive emotional currents, shifts in magical fields, and echoes of past events imprinted on places. Their sight includes a sensitivity to starlight and shadow; their hearing can detect the heartbeat of the forest.
Civilization and Culture
Common Myths and Legends
The Aos-sí are the source of myriad myths across Earth’s Celtic regions—often mischaracterized as fairies, elves, or spirits. Folklore depicts them as tricksters, protectors, or tempters, depending on the tale. Their most consistent trait is their liminality: neither gods nor mortals, but the keepers of boundary spaces. Echoes of their essence can be seen in legends of fae courts, banshees, and sidhe mounds—though in Tír na nÓg, these depictions are seen more as distorted reflections than accurate accounts.
Aos-Si
height |
length |
weight |
|---|---|---|
1.83 m |
N/A |
77 kg |
Genetic Ancestor(s)
Scientific Name
Neacha; Sidheánach; Celticus aos-sí
Origin/Ancestry
Descended from the Tuatha Dé Danann of Irish mythology, considered as demigods or nature spirits.
