from The Ever-Fortuitous Chronicles of the Most Blessed Barony of Shining Waters : being a lengthy history of dark and brooding theme, suitable only for the entertainment of the most depraved and unmentionable of gothic minds, with addenda and explication by the authour. by Archemides Padopolous, pooka scribe.
Winter rolls in with inevitable force - the last Winter, and Endless Winter. In service to Winter, three knights of the High King himself come hence to pillage the land. Dark deeds and dark will have these three villains scouring crack and crevice, stealing rightful treasures from those who hold them. Sir Aeron Trueblade, eshu and Knight of Liam, servant to the Baroness Angered Liam, and rightful defender of this realm did sally forth to challenge these Unseelie Ravagers in our defense. Liam held as Liam does, and the Broken Sword of their honour stands re-forged through his actions. Bright and true his words, the trio did repent, and went their way chastened. Northarm has yet to discover his presence is unwanted here, and the brother of the much-missed Sumac dreams more of welfare than advanture in these cold nights. Yet, despite this grand and forceful duty to raise a child as his own, hard won and well deserved, he found his time and effort to blithely raise the Baroness from her deep illness, and return the lands to Spring. |
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[The following letter was delivered upon Goblin Parchment, and thus no permanent record survives. It details a quest undertaken by Halfdan Kinrowan ap Dougal, in companionship of the boggan Richard Sabre, in pursuant of rumours of the return to this world of the ancient Fomorians.
[After long and arduous quest, Halfdan submitted this report:] My Lady, my Liege, The Mists quickly sweep in to steal what they can of Memory. I write this with haste, trying to call events to the page before they are culled away. Thoughts of the Dreaming swiftly vanish with Morning's pale light, never to be seen again. Your messenger came with the dawn, striking upon my door, announcing that I was Summoned. His departure was made with haste, but at my sill I did discover that Missive, sealed with the crests of Fiona and Ailil. Reading, I Understood, and began to prepare to undertake that Arduous Journey which you had requested of your Humble Servant. It was a cold and bitter night, with a hungry wind, when I departed. To one side of the Gate stood the guide you provided - the Eshu of whom you had written - and to the other a mass of chimerical steel and armour which concealed a Boggan of my own acquaintance. The boggan spoke of the glory of those who stand as Squire to my House. This undertaking would test his mettle, spark his resolve. Sabre, the boggan is called. Sabre the Stern Hearted, Sabre the Lion. Sworn to silence of what he would see, he has joined the Ever-Swelling Ranks of the Guardians of Frail Bridges, that Secret Order of my own devising. Your Servants ever grow in number, Lady. The Eshu, who did not offer even a speaking-Name, spilled blood, chanted in a dark language, and the gates flew open. The Silver Road stretched out into the evening light, and we followed. The Path was long. I still remember much of our Journey, though the details begin to fade. Jagged ice filled the Road, crunched beneath my boot-heels, tore at cloaks and breath. Snow fell, and hail, beautiful as it sucked at our warmth. This Winter Road led deep into the Dreaming, where few had passed in Ages. Fire would not light here. At one point, I remember, we killed the ponies for food and warmth. The Road led ever on, through Mountains, through dales. Ever we were wary of departing the Path. Those who leave the Path are lost. Though I have forgotten almost more than ever I knew, this I could remember. Our Journey was long and hard. The Silver Road guarded from the worst, yet still many were the dark shadows of the Unseelie stretched across our Way. [to be continued...] |
This history is continued on page vii.
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