My Liege,

I have arrived as instructed in this Barony full of Hope and Promise. Many Kithain have gathered here since the Land grew Safe. Seelie and Unseelie, Noble and Commoner alike. Each comes bearing the Promise of the Future in their hearts. They gathered together this evening past, to celebrate the coronation of the Baron August ap Dougal to the Seat of Shining Waters.

Expectation sat upon the room like a warm blanket. Pooka were there, and Sluagh, and Sidhe... Kithain of every colour and stripe. The pronouncement was made in Her Majesty's name, granting demesne of this Barony to the Lord August of House Dougal. A hush fell upon the crowd.

Through the great, sorcerous windows which flanked the hall, a peaceful ocean washed clean the past. The Baron August of House Dougal walked firmly to the throne. The throne itself is mounted high in the room, as is only right, facing all who enter. Of dark stone, it brings the strength of the very earth itself.

Baron August mounted the dais, stood before the Throne, and greeted his people. Honesty and wisdom shone from his eyes. His first words were encouraging, an exhortation for the future.

Then he renounced the Throne. Sternly, quietly, with a voice like age itself, he spake that he was Tired, and Worn, and that the Snows of Winter rested as a cloak heavily upon his shoulders. Frost ate at his bones. He could not stay.

He placed a mighty geasa upon the Throne - that "None should hold this throne save the most worthy." He held high his sword, and lay it down atop the stone. "None shall keep this sword save the rightful ruler." Then, exhorting that none may follow him, he departed upon a Great Quest, to return his eyes to Spring, and his heart to lighter days. I fear that I have seen the last of this Noble Warrior.

He had not but left the room, when a Redcap lurched across the chamber. Were I faster, did not my wound so plague my speed, I should have caught him. But I did not. The Unseelie villain placed a curse upon that sword, his dark glamour biting deep into the blade. Were I younger, my Liege, I would have stopped him, but I fear that I am not.

Minutes passed in shock. Outside, the Waters were no longer calm, but rocked and swelled with the Storm of the Baron's Departure. This land is once more without a Liege. The very elements themselves bleed crimson for it.

At the last, an old Pooka hunched forward near the Throne. He looked to mean no ill, and I know enough not to try to drag Truth from a Pooka's lips. Feathered and squinting it called out Who would claim this sword, this Cursed Sword? A blessing it bestowed, for it seems there are two Seers amongst these commoners. The redcap cursed, and the pooka blessed. a heavy burden to whomever claims that Throne.

I can pray only that Sword is carried by one whose heart is large enough, whose wisdom can lead where August ap Dougal could not. The Winter beats hard upon this Barony now, my Liege. Death follows Winter, and Monsters crowd the night.

Ever in your service,

Sir Halfdane Kinrowan ap Dougal, Knight of the Queen's Own, in Her Majesty's Secret Service.

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.

With woeful Baron August gone to seek his doom amongst the Distant Shores, many wonder who will take up the Baronial Labour. Until someone does so, the Sidhe Halfdane ap Dougal, of Her Majesty's Secret Service, preserves order amidst grave chaos, and done with utmost secresy and discretion. Then a new Sidhe arrives... one of great fame and reknown. Gustav of Gwydion is said to have killed his own Mentor with a sword of cold iron, and all know his guilt in the truth of this claim. When he enters the room, with a red mask and a black cloak, many feel the presence of iron under his cloak, his keen intent, his dark desire to lay waste by iron to all present. He says little, and is shunned by all, though all hold his respect in their hearts beside their fears. His only companion is a Redcap, a creature many Sidhe kill on general principle. Unable to convince his Lord to take the Throne (the Sidhe Gustav seems uninterested, or perhaps knows that he would not be able to keep it because by force of arms), the Redcap strides towards the Throne. The silent Sidhe of House Liam steps before him and refuses to allow him to ascend the steps, claiming no commoner should stand so close, and no Unseelie likewise. Instead, she takes the Throne herself, to the accolades of all. It remains to be seen if she can keep it from those others who covet the power, or if she too, like all sidhe, shall fall to the corruption inherent in power...

[Editorial note by Gentleman Witherspoon, Nocker to House Dougal: The intent of the "chochem" Pooka scribe here is largely clear, 'though as a Farshtinkener Pooka his schpiel must ever be questioned. What Schmitzig Mayven Noble allowed this Goyem to write the Baronial Histories? There MUST be a better source than this... I will attempt to corral some personal correspondence from the citizenry of the Barony - blasted Badhkin...]