Sooterkin
Civilization and Culture
History
The term "Sooterkin" first emerged in 17th and 18th century mortal discourse, originally as part of a slew of bizarre and slanderous claims—many rooted in anti-fey sentiment and misogynistic fearmongering. The name was tied to outlandish accusations: that cunning women and midwives birthed them, that they were demonic imps, or that they were the offspring of inappropriate unions between women and warmth. Such claims were absurd propaganda, often used to demonize fey witches and their bonded familiars.
And yet, despite the ridicule, the Sooterkin themselves found the name... charming. At least phonetically.
Prior to this, they had no formal name in mortal tongues. Among themselves, they were simply Bolthole Dwellers, Burrowkin, or in one old tongue, The Quiet-Nosed Folk. But in the early 19th century, the Council of Wise Whiskers—a particularly dignified body of elder Sooterkin—convened under a broken teacup on the edge of a crumbling hearthstone and voted unanimously that “Sooterkin” was indeed “cuter, and more marketable.” The name stuck.
In truth, Sooterkin are ancient—far older than their mortal naming. They have crept at the edges of fireside tales and mythic cycles since pre-Roman times, often lurking at the feet of druids, scribes, and seers, whispering secrets into the cracks of oak bark or nestled in pockets heavy with runes and dried herbs.
Though rarely at the center of Otherworld’s grand conflicts or noble intrigues, Sooterkin have been present in the margins of every major fae event for thousands of years. They are the quill-keepers, the stirrers of potions, the whisperers of warnings, and the comforters of lonely witches. Their quiet, unassuming nature makes them beloved by the small-hearted and deeply mistrusted by the grandiose.
They hold a particular disdain—and well-justified fear—for larger, predatory fey, especially faerie cats, hounds, and other such beasts, many of whom either refuse to distinguish them from mundane mice, or worse, pretend not to, out of cruelty. Sooterkin have learned to survive by staying clever, cautious, and impossibly hard to catch—a trait which only furthers their mystique.
In essence, while others write the songs and spill the blood, the Sooterkin remain hidden beneath floorboards and in folds of cloaks, observing, remembering, and occasionally biting the ankle of history when it forgets they were there.
And yet, despite the ridicule, the Sooterkin themselves found the name... charming. At least phonetically.
Prior to this, they had no formal name in mortal tongues. Among themselves, they were simply Bolthole Dwellers, Burrowkin, or in one old tongue, The Quiet-Nosed Folk. But in the early 19th century, the Council of Wise Whiskers—a particularly dignified body of elder Sooterkin—convened under a broken teacup on the edge of a crumbling hearthstone and voted unanimously that “Sooterkin” was indeed “cuter, and more marketable.” The name stuck.
In truth, Sooterkin are ancient—far older than their mortal naming. They have crept at the edges of fireside tales and mythic cycles since pre-Roman times, often lurking at the feet of druids, scribes, and seers, whispering secrets into the cracks of oak bark or nestled in pockets heavy with runes and dried herbs.
Though rarely at the center of Otherworld’s grand conflicts or noble intrigues, Sooterkin have been present in the margins of every major fae event for thousands of years. They are the quill-keepers, the stirrers of potions, the whisperers of warnings, and the comforters of lonely witches. Their quiet, unassuming nature makes them beloved by the small-hearted and deeply mistrusted by the grandiose.
They hold a particular disdain—and well-justified fear—for larger, predatory fey, especially faerie cats, hounds, and other such beasts, many of whom either refuse to distinguish them from mundane mice, or worse, pretend not to, out of cruelty. Sooterkin have learned to survive by staying clever, cautious, and impossibly hard to catch—a trait which only furthers their mystique.
In essence, while others write the songs and spill the blood, the Sooterkin remain hidden beneath floorboards and in folds of cloaks, observing, remembering, and occasionally biting the ankle of history when it forgets they were there.
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