Once upon a time, the Rad were led by an ancient and respected leader. This, however, is a long time ago.
The leader withered and was forgotten. Meanwhile, the mortals that dreamt the Rad into existence have been torn apart in the human realm and great unrest has been woven into the stories they tell.
The Rad are no longer a united court but more of a restless, chaotic mob with a power vacuum that is bound to be filled eventually.
They thrive on each other's passions and their lust for uproar, as well as their ancient ties to each other. But ever since The Stag, the ancient leader, left the throne, there has been no one quite large enough to fill their shoes.
When the first underground was booming, the first heads brimming with hard
beats and passionate ideas, we were there.
We are what is left of tricksters and jokes, now speckled with radical
notions and a drive to burn.
Burn for a dream, for a future, for the next drag on a cigarette a few minutes before dawn.
Our stories are those of mischief and pranks and with a chuckle in our voice,
we greet the age of change like a welcome storm after a long summer draught.
British Isles
Folklore
Mischief, Punk, Politics, Dreams
The Rad are a fickle bunch of tricksters and dreamers,
the forever young and playful.
Wherever the Fae party, the Rad are there to crowd the dancefloor, provide questionable substances to the masses
and start a riot if the music is too low or too shitty or simply
because they haven't started a riot in quite a while. The stories
of the Rad have survived the ages due to an intruiging combination
of charm and stubbornness.
But most importantly, they thrive by
intertwining repeatedly with the
mortal realm: The Rad do not hate nor
love the mortals as other Kin tend to do.
Instead, they consider humankind with the curiosity of a young god trying to understand their subjects - often members of the Kin wander and mingle in the mortal world, spending whole decades amongst the mundane and accompanying them throughout the turbulences of human history. The Rad equally love to mess with the mortals, as much as they love to seduce them and lead them into their Otherworld and
dance them to insanity and beyond,
filling their lungs filled with smoke and
their eyes with the shine of some substance
barely meant for the fickle mortal minds.
Often, the mortals become subject to the Rad's ridiculous need for competition:
Who can can get this politician high?
Who can break the most hearts before the night ends?
Who can haunt a bar and make it the most booming success of the city?
The Rad live for a good challenge and are thus eternally racing from one high to the next, never stopping to look back at the damage they leave in their wake.
