Peacock Lord
Peacock Lord

Peacock Lord

(Planar animal lord [he/him] / Sensate / N)

“The Peacock Lord? He’s a colourful cutter, alright. One of my best customers, actually. Always in here flashing his jink around, always after the latest Arcadian silks and Elysian velvets. Dresses like a fancy bird too — that’s why they call him the Peacock Lord I think. Thin chap, he is, slight of frame, but by the Lady herself he’s handsome. Highly sought after in the Golden Lord circles, you know — we get more than one noble lady customer asking after him too. Probably the lure of the money and looks — a bit of a winning combination in their circles, see. No, I haven’t the slightest idea where he gets the money from, but it certainly ain’t my place to ask. Probably a bit of a rogue too, if you ask me. But I didn’t say that, right?”

— Noilis Lightoak, dresser at HighUp, exclusive (and expensive) Lady’s Ward fashion house

“There’s a bit of a tragic story behind that one, I reckon. There usually is behind the brightest ones, eh? Well, he ain’t called the Peacock Lord for nothing, cutter. Sure enough, chant goes he actually was one of those animal high-ups on the Beastlands. That is, until he got deposed. Rather than hang around the wilderness looking pretty, the blood came to Sigil, where his colours shone like the most vibrant flowers, and hasn’t left since.

“Why was he deposed? Good question. Most of the Animal Lords stay on their perch until they’re put in the dead-book some way or other, and that doesn’t happen often. They’re nearly powers after all. No, the Peacock Lord was exiled by his charges, the peacocks themselves. Now those beaky cutters won’t answer questions about their affairs, but I’ll bet I know what it was. See, the Peacock Lord was just too vain. His nest, they say, was bedecked with the trappings of civilisation; mirrors, expensive clothing and scents, and fine objets d’art.

“Well, a race can’t give up its quintessential leader lightly, and merely shunning the primal nature of the Beastlands wasn’t enough. No, the Peacock Lord harboured a deeper secret than that, see. Fact is, he ain’t such a lady’s man as everyone presumes — see, the cutter prefers the company of peacocks to peahens if you tumble to my meaning. For sure, it’s not like that’s a big issue in a burg like the Cage, but out of town in a backwater like the Beastlands, when a basher ain’t normal, he ain’t wanted, it seems.

“Whether the Peacock Lord is in exile or just chooses to remain in the Cage is dark; there’s little point in trying to second-guess the blood because he’s as sharp as a heron’s beak. The cutter understands the noble life better than almost any gold lord, and plays the etiquette game to perfection. Consequently, he’s a darling of the rich and famous. Some say a party ain’t a proper party unless the Peacock Lord’s in attendance, berk. I wonder where he gets the strength for the endless sleepless nights meself.”

— Voilá!, tout and mimir recorder

“The dark on the Peacock Lord? I couldn’t tell you all that much that isn’t fairly common knowledge already, mate. Actually, tell a lie. The canny berk’s found himself a new lover, I heard the other day. Who? Aw, now, give a girl a chance! It’s all the gossip I have so at least let me build it up a little! Anyway, I was chatting to Tripicus, and the disapproving old bear let it slip that he’d bumped into the Peacock Lord the other day.

“No! Of course it’s not the ursinal! Now that really would be barkle worth paying for! No, cutter, the ‘Lord was arm in wing with Jovius, the deva blood. Yeah, the friend of Laurelli the Trumpet. Oh, I thought those two were a bit of an item too, but it seems I was sorely mistaken.

“Anyway, Tripicus tutted and pshawed about it, the narrow-minded old stick that he is, but I think it’s sweet. About time the Peacock Lord had some decent luck, I say, the poor fellow. Must be such a hard life he leads. Hmmm. Did that sound sarcastic? Probably just because I’m green as Baator steel. No! Not because of Jovius. He’s welcome to that berk. Did I ever tell you of the time when he…? No? Probably a good thing, that.

“Oops, there’s Shemeshka. Better dash…the old scrote’s still being funny with me over that message for the Horde Lord. Best scarper. ‘Grace!”

— Kylie, tout and message bearer

“Oh, there’s more to the Peacock Lord than his dandy-about-town image belies, mark my words. Of course, I can’t prove a word of it, but I happen to know he’s defected from his animal lordship to work for a higher power. The goddess of joy and happiness, Lliira, wanted a new proxy to replace one she’d lost during the so-called Time of Troubles on that little prime world Toril, and it seems her agent headhunted this blood.

“It probably wasn’t an easy decision to leave his noble lifestyle behind, but my guess is the basher was getting itchy feet anyway; the Beastlands ain’t exactly the most fashionable street on the Great Road. So leave he did, and now he operates out of the Cage, sending reports back to his divine mistress. ‘Course, it ain’t common knowledge of his proxydom, because must bashers’ll think twice before inviting someone quite so important to a humble party in case the thing flopped and word got back to Lliira. Now that would be a faux pas on a grand scale!”

Magnum Opus, medusa curator of the Musée Arcane

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Source: Jon Winter-Holt,

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