We are the Night People.
We have always been here, it seems. And perhaps we always shall be. But the world grows more complicated with each grain of sand through the hourglass of Old Man Time, and perhaps even we will one day be lost to that cascade. So, we tell our stories here.
In the deepest nights of Medieval Europe, we were the Ancient Lineages, who traced our origins to the monsters of the earliest days, when horrors roamed the world and humanity huddled beside flickering firelight, in vain hope that it might protect them from us.
In the rise of the Renaissance, we were the Midnight Princes, who haunted the dark places where the light of the new age did not touch. We were the vaunted nobility of the blackest nights, and those who were wise paid us court and homage.
In the Victorian Era, our identities were not so easily classified. All the people of the world wanted their own identities - how could we want any less? But in all cases, we were the Underground Folk, who made cities of our own beneath the cities of men.
And in the beautiful years between two mighty World Wars, we had our hey-day. We were no longer content to be bound by where we came from, but were intoxicated on the enthusiasm and hope of a new world - we were the Phantasia, a word that means both "things unreal" and "things of vision."
These are our stories. It is only fitting that someone should tell them. In today's world, we are all but gone. We do not seek one anothers' company, the way we did in times long past, but hide away from the world and the dangers that come when we gather together. But someone must tell them, and someone must remember them.
We have always been monsters, but there was a time when we were also magnificent.
The Night Folk is not a single chronicle. Instead, it is a collection of chronicles detailing a world of strange creatures and odd folk who dwell in the world that suspects they may exist, but does not truly want to know. They are the oddities, the freaks, the strangenesses in the world.