Snotty, sneaky, thieving Boggarts. No matter how much a kithain boggan claims they are unseelie, they can never match up to the nastiness of the true Thallain boggarts.
Exclusively male, there is no easy way to tell a boggan from boggart until said boggart has vacated your freehold with all your wealth, destroyed your reputation and left you incapable of patching things up with your wife.
Perhaps the most cunning of all thallain, keep a few real boggans about to tell the rotten from the good.
For the first time in a while, us boggans had a rep in firnost. I can remember a year or so back when I ran for the position, but had to chuck in the towel when family matters took over my concerns.
Now, the problem arose when young Summer, the wee lass that won the seat, got a bit antsy over how the way Firnost was run. In me own humble opinion, us boggans were born of dreams of hard work, honesty and good company.
I think the first stand young Summer took was on the local American fae, the Nunnehi (Scuse me spelling), and 'ow they weren't getting a fair deal in Firnost.
Now, to me, I see it this way; They have their freeholds, we got ours right? No problem there. Then we got accused of theivin their land. Now we got that same situation in my country, New Zealand, with the Maori and the Maori Fae. Me grandfather used to say "They can have their land back, so long as we can have the muskets and blankets back we trade 'fore it."
There was a flaw in Grandpa's thinking though; What about the conquered land? Well the answer to this came from me uncle in a little bistro on the southern Mediterranean coast: "God damn! That was hundreds of years ago! Who cares?! The past is deader than grandad!".
And I got to agree with that.
Anyways, Summer did a stint on defending her claim, then the locals tore her down. The thing is, boggans ain't made for politics. We help, build, craft, and yes, we gossip...but we ain't politicians. I better shut up 'bout that anyhow.
Since then folks 'ave tried hard enough. There was some lass, by the name of Lady Quickly - she did an okay job I guess, even if she didn't say no more than a mouse with a full belly in a haybarn. I can remember an old pal o' mine, Perkins - now there was a chap with 'is head screwed on right. Sad to say he up an' left gawd know 'ow long ago. Not seen hair nor hide for a good four years. Then there was that jumped up ball of grease, Scorcese. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm as Italian as the day is long, but this wop seemed to think he 'ad more connections with the mafia than I got hairs on my feet. All I got to say 'bout that is he lasted a term then jumped ship good an' proper. Maybe he got whacked - then again, maybe we ain't that lucky.
That said, there are a few faces that've stuck around longer than ravioli in a dishwasher: Lupe Morales, she's always around, less often than once upon a time, but hey, us boggans 'ave got work to do. Can't always be out gossipin with the Firnostians.