Changeling
from pagese discovered amongst the lost papers of the Barony, a mildewed vellum stack of some chimerical hide forgotten beneath a stone...

Detailed musings for Further Generations or my dear friends in the Event of My Untimely Demise, from the Pen of Grimthistle De Le Ne`erPlume of Darklingvale, formerly of Luna Noir, in service to Baroness Angorhaad Griffiths ap Liam of the Barony of Shining Waters. Half a moon until Winter takes my eyes by previous estimation:

I have decided to continue my musings as aye have done in my youthe. The Void that rends my ghastly allies unmet strikes a fear unknown to aye, and too much happens to be forgotten in these times. Particularly in recent days. More and more dreams come to me of Luna Noir, which do rend my heart asunder. I thought so few pieces left, but the horror of Spittle's Curse haunts me in memory, if no longer in will. Every new image of my belov'd Brambleheart is paine when it should be pleasure, every new thing in this lande of many ships find some way to remind me of the darkened trees and willowes of Luna Noir in some way, and beget me with woe of my own heart. I must strive on, and be strong, for my nobilty has been returned to me. I did not take it by force, nay, 'twas thruste upon me by those in direst need of a leader. Twas I, they said, and I know it to be truth, and thus could not deny. Fealty's asworn, and oaths of my protection from those who would usurp my noblest of causes. My woe must be hidden, burrowed into Grim's cavitous torse, a treasure to never be found lest Dan release it to be wicked. I keep it hidden behind the intrigues of courtly affairs. My mind clenched in the twix and twoh of love, power and lies, I fend off the horrore of my tears along with that of the Void, along with that of upcoming destruction.

Interesting affairs art afoote. The Baron Northarm makes his return to M'Ladies Barony, and does so with grand announcement half moon past. The fair of skin react as if he has committed an terrible crime, and some whisper that his return means innocence. Obviously, there are secrets to be found, and they will come to us for them. I must send forth my subjects to retrieve, and conduct my own reconnaissance, of course. He will be the key to strength of Darklingvale. Or at very least, gain favor with my gracious Baroness, which is well enjoyed when received. Another token was given to me by m'Lady at our last meeting. It shall be protected as the rest. I fear with Lily's depature, of which she speaks little, (I dare not pry...to press both my Lady and my kin? Never I!) and Trueblades absence, she is need of support in the direst way, and is more deserving than any I remember in Luna Noir. Perhaps it is my inexperience with her kind that leads me so, but her actions do not connect to her fair visage in my mind, and it is those actions I revere. I speak not of her silver eyes or starlit hair, I speak of her kind words and wisdom. I speak not of her angelic voice, but of the what it speaks. I speak not of her slender form, but of the grace with which she carries it. I pray she need never need read this, but some day knows these words.
I knew her a kindred spirit after the affairs of last gather. T' seems my decision to deny Gustav the Black, Speaker of Lies and Kinslayer, the Sworde of Drowned Honor caused quite a stir. Twas grand indeed to watch Halfdane and Gustav scurry as spiders in a bathtub whence the shower starts. I of course, confessed to m'lady my deed and intent posthaste, but by such time Halfdane had already declared a Great Game afoote, and the winner received the prize. m'Lady and I agreed that we should let the game run, with much amusement to I and I do believe her as well. We had gone on a great quest to meet the Merfolk, underkin of another kind, ones that I had encountered not in all my years. They had dire issues in their lands, and Adrianna, the Selkie did rant and rage for the Game delayed the mission. She played most vehemently of all in order to end the game, using her magick to find the culprit, aye. She chastised me greatly for retrieving the blade and causing the issue, blaming aye, aye, for the deaths of thousands. Twas not my game. Perhaps aye should have ended it earlier, but Halfdanes magick did require a game be played, and one so short would have been no game at all. I did also scout Gustav's reaction during the game, as not to be slaine. Selfish aye, I suppose. Adrianna did claim the prize, and was about to be awarded. I did protest, as she knew not the blades location, a piece essential to the game. It was a simple matter for me to claim it. A goode thing too, for I Gustav had shown her favour that I saw, aye, he did not seem to be one to care for Merfolk, so I believe that favour still. Not to his hands, to make a spoil of a war fought without morality. I care not for the blade, but the principle. My ideals will help the merfolk, their plight is dire, so Adrianna will come to know my good intentions in tyme. I fear however, my intentions will run foul. Spring approaches, and I feel the frost reach towards my heart. Pure snow it is, but very colde. And in our midst a redcap. A damned, filthy redcap. I fear my wrath for Spittle will t'wards him. Not un deservedly so, according recent reactions. He did charge Halfdane, something I did not protest of, but claimed he spoke for commoners. Darkingvale he has not! Allies he has not! Yet he would speak for Tabitha, he would speak for Dreigh, he would speak for Archemedes, he would speak for Khass, he would speak for aye!? The Baroness did warrant him well. If he does not like the way the nobles act, he should do as I do and attempt to better them, not chastise them. It infuriates them more and is abettering for the soul. Examples met and matched. His way better? Nay, give me a thousande Halfdanes and Gustavs for one redcap. I whisper a prayer to the tydes of Dan that m'lady wishes him dead. One whisper to aye from she, and it shall be so. I shall write again when there is more to tell....

[Writ upon Goblin Parchment, the following is from the library of Caer Frost, in the "X collection."]

My Lady, My Liege.
I write in haste, for I set soon upon the road to you, that I might carry news in quiet voice. Much transpired here of late upon the edge of the World.
Those I watch act as expected. The tests I set before them with words and deeds garner the predicted results. Gustav the Oathbroken of House Gwydion baits his own trap, 'though shall prove useful methinks in the end, despite My Lady's reservations; and the Lady Angherad ap Liam proves more able than she herself understands or knows. Little seems to have been done of late per your pronouncements, however: None here yet seem fit or intent to try for the prize. It seems your new Champion shall not rise from amongst this number.
Of note, the Desease from the South edges its infectious way Northward. I speak of course of the Tide of Uprising Sentiment which your Enemies have levelled against the Nobility, striving to incite the Kingdoms of the Empire to Rebellion and War. Opportunity arose when a newcomer to the Barony (a Redcap, Milady) gave me pretext to be Assaulted by Himself on utterly Unjustified Grounds. General sentiment swung against him. He stabbed your Servant thrice, while I lay neither sword-point nor Glamour upon him. Few are those who retain any belief that I cannot defend myself should I wish to harm another. The villainy lay full upon his shoulders.
I shall play him, My Lady, and make of him the Straw Target. Let all see the brash foolishness of those who level their lances against the Crown.
More of note, it seems the new Count Gustav Oathbroken ap Gwydion has made enemies or hostilies amongst the Nunnehi in this County. By general discussion, it would appear that they have had run-in with a Fire Wyrm at some point in their History here. Gustav's habit of Winging across the Dreaming Night in other guise would appear not to sit well with them.
There is likely yet to be blood.
Of yet more import is this - those beneath the Sea.
One Selkie here has, it seems, been approached by those claiming to the Lords from amongst the Lost Kith of the Merfolk. They claim to be at War with the Dreaming Mortals of these your Shores, and wishing Aid. The Count Gwydion Gustav the Oathbroken swore to assist them, and more importantly for present the Baroness Liam of Shining Waters gave her assent as well. I ride swift to learn what more I can of these "Merfolk" and to bring you what knowledge I have.
I hear my Herald at the door. I shall see you before the Moon is Fresh Anew.
As ever yours,
Humbly,
Sir Halfdan ap Kinrowan ap Dougal,
Knight of the Queen's Own, in Her Majesty's Secret Service.

[From the papers of Countess Miriam ap Eiluned, herald to Caer Frost.]

My Lady,

I depart upon that most secret effort which needs be undertaken. I leave in my stead my Squire and herald, a young green of the Treefolk, in hopes that she may serve to aid the stability of your Baroness Angheradh ap Liam there. The County of Drowned Honour is upon the edge of the blade, but has not yet been severed. Gustav the Black ever seeks to do His Own Will, despite. I fear that he has not yet learned, and his placement as Count might not yet win the day.
I have instructed the Baroness Angheradh to watch him well, and informed her of my designs and my absence. I trust only that she shall do nothing foolish.
I have the names of those I am to contact on my arrival, and all goes as planned.
SHaKaD

[Journals of Q.E.D. Fyne, MD, Phd, Theoretical Phrenologist, v.5471]

... and half. With the disappearance of both Gustav the Black of Gwydion and the Baroness (off on some fool's errand to "rescue" a missing Baron), the Barony spirals into Chaos. County dissolved by Ducal decree, a shame to the Kingdom. The Lady Dido of Fiona has been left "regent" by Angherad. The eshu holds her in hand. There has been no word for near a full year from the Court across the waters. It is time to begin to garner my forces. Let these babbling fools concern themselves with Courtly matters. Winter comes - see these Seelie nobles panic about like rats in a cage! We shall see who is mad! Soon I think the nobility here will fall - that will make the eshu happy, and cement my position here. I am informed that another nocker has arrived from beyond these borders. All goes according to plan...

[Note found in a bottle off the coast of Gibraltar.]

Why can I not remember? Find this message. Find me, wherever you have gone. Remember. Here I sit, at the edge of the World, and all has gone dark, and the stars do not shine. Where is the beauty we saw, the joy when the first Gates opened up again? Even when the Gods returned and demanded their due (fresh borne babes my ass), even then could we supress the grandeur we knew from seeing the Open Roads once more? Perhaps when War was done I should not have taken my brothers and followed that Path, for here we stand now but a ragged band of half-a-dozen. Broken and bitter at the edge of the World, I will throw this note over the side and hope that someday, somewhere, it will find you, that you will find me. Fools! Bittered away all for which we fought and more - squabbling like Dreamers over shattered glass. Even the Gods leave again; this Black god has taken his consort and run off into his Dreams, abandoning those to whom he swore. Does one God's word mean nothing anymore? They cut their families to the Heart, here. One Father left to starve in a golden cage, never singing only crying that his heart should break. Were we so cruel? Has Winter come so soon? And the Dream lost, shattered, broken by I know not what that pursues me down its totured and frozen roads of bitter ashes? From what have we come running, my Brothers and I, if not the end? How could I stave off Bedlam Madness lost in my Dreams when these here in the Autumn of the World succomb? Remember. Can you help me to remember?

The tale Continues.

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