Padraig Rua

Irish Republic Established, Celebrations Nationwide Children of Lir, Symbolising Rebirth and Resurrection " After countless wars, after countless declarations of statehood, in near endless succession, Ireland has finally come upon a new beginning of peace and prosperity. The people of Ireland, traumatized by the German occupation, beaten into submission by their fascist ideology, their alien way of life, have retained their beliefs and ideals. They have nurtured them, and kept them safe and alive until the time came when the people of Ireland were free once again. Now these beliefs and ideals sprout forth from the garden of bounty which is Éire. Never again will our island fall to a continental power whose intentions are to subjugate and suppress our people. Never again will they foster the divisions which once scarred our nation. Never again will you suffer! My fellow Irishmen and Irishwomen, rejoice in this fact, for you are free forever! Long live the Republic. Long live the Gael. Long live Ireland!" The above speech was given earlier today by Conchúr Ó Dhonnaile, President of the Provisional Government of the Irish Republic, in Eyre Square Galway (now capital of Ireland). His words were received by an enthusiastic crowd of locals, and by those who traveled from the four corners of the Republic. With Ireland now free, President Ó Dhonnaile and his associates, Taoiseach Orlaith Ní Lochlainn and Tánaiste John Gerard Hynes, have made it their primary goal to organise a national election within the next few weeks. This election will decide the political status of the nation and begin the first steps in the slow redevelopment of the Republic, which was laid waste by past regimes of years gone by. The people of Ireland will elect those who reflect their desires and will do so without intimidation or fear. For this is a Republic. A state without corruption. A state with dreams.........

Proclamation of the Irish Republic Poblacht na hÉireann IRISHMEN AND IRISHWOMEN: In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and declares her freedom. Having resolutely waited for the right moment to reveal herself, she now seizes that moment, and, supported by her exiled children in America and by a gallant ally in Europe, but relying in the first on her own strength, she declares herself, in full confidence, free of Germanic oppression once again. We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people. In every generation the Irish people have asserted their right to national freedom and sovereignty. Standing on that fundamental right and again asserting it in the face of the world, we hereby proclaim the Irish Republic as a Sovereign Independent State, and we pledge our lives and the lives of our comrades-in-arms to the maintenance of its freedom, of its welfare, and its exaltation among the nations. The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally. Until the opportune moment for the establishment of a permanent National Government, representative of the whole people of Ireland and elected by the suffrages of all her men and women, the Provisional Government, hereby constituted, will administer the civil and military affairs of the Republic in trust for the people. In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called. Signed on the Behalf of the Provisional Government: Conchúr Ó Dhonnaile, Orlaith Ní Lochlainn, John Gerard Hynes

Centurius, Shammy, Curristan

Please return Ayr to the benevolence of Evangeline, for I am finally going to Ireland. With the permission of Centurius but of course. Please label Ireland as "Éire". Furthermore I would appreciate an Irish green. Thanks.

As soon as Field Marshall Triyai Triyunovich Triyunovsky's message of freedom, socialism and all things good was broadcasted throughout the world eight thousand men and women of the Ayr Realm, commoners and citizens alike, used any means possible to get as close to the action as possible. The vast majority of volunteers flew by way of Faraway, to the Athenian Federation and finally to Persia. From Persia they advanced north to the Caucasian border. Crossing the border by subtle means they offered their services to the Soviet Army. They were prepared to sacrifice their lives to help their brothers and sisters in the struggle against Germanic hegemony, and hopefully save Europe in the process. For the glorious Socialist cause!

The grandeur of the royal ballroom was rather astonishing to Count Karlsson. Never had he seen such splendour in a building. His perpetual state of hunting always kept him away from such stately halls. He never did care much for what was made of stone or silk. The warmth of an open fire with the company of a few trusted and loyal companions was all he needed. Upon entering the room Count Karlsson kneeled before the throne of the Queen of Faraway. Her figure was shadowed by the light of the sun, hindering the Counts view of her. " Your most noble majesty, I am Count Karlsson of the Ayr Realm. I have come to conduct a trade deal with you on the behalf of my most noble lord Charles Deane, King of Ayr.".

The following message would be sent to the Court of the Realm of Faraway:

The victorious teenager stood in the middle of the castle courtyard with the bodies of dead strew all around. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool night air. He swept his displaced fringe to the side and shook the blood off his sword. A large scar left by one of the wolf beasts marked his right torso. It slowly seeped blood, drops falling to the ground every so often. Bjorn placed his hand upon the wound and cursed. " Better start moving again." he thought, looking around the courtyard for any signs of activity. A large wooden door grabbed his attention and he slowly walked towards it, silver great sword in hand. He gently pushed the door open so as not to make a sound. It opened to a stone corridor illuminated by torches hung high upon the walls. Old tapestries graced Bjorns view with images of the occult, castles and the remains of past images now unwoven by time. A suit of armour stood upright with a sword in hand. A mouse darted across the floor. Suddenly, the door closed from behind and made a loud bang. And in reponse a horrible moan could be heard. Bjorn started walking in the direction of the moan. The castle seemed to be constructed in the manner of a maze for Bjorn was walking around in circles. Then, without cause, the moan abruptly stopped. Bjorn was lost and alone in the darkness. However, he spotted another door and opened it.......

First Master, it is sad to see you depart this world of insanity. I wish you a great life. May you do all you want and more.

The entrance to Rideau Hall was rather exquisite. It was no surprise that this building was chosen to be the manor of the Monarch of Faraway. A Monarch which had yet to appear. Count Karlsson walked over the marble covered floor of the reception. His clothing attracted a great deal of attention. Those present in the room laughed at his swagger. The Count ignored them and held his head high as he approached the lady he presumed to be the court chaplin. He stopped and bowed before her. " Your Grace, I am Count Karlsson. Representative of his majesty the King of Ayr and Regent to Charlotte Deane, Baroness of Ayr. I have come to discuss a weapons deal with you on the behalf of my liege lord." He presented her with the Kings letter. The lion of House Deane adorned the seal upon the envelop.

" I can't do this. I can't do this." thought Bjorn walking through the cold dark forest. His bright blue hair was messy. It continually fell across his equally blue eyes, forcing him to fix his fringe every so often. The crunching sound made by his shoes over the litter of the forest floor was the only sound to wring out amongst the naked trees of the wood. Otherwise the silence was only disturbed by a scream far off in the distance. It resembled the frantic neighing of a horse brought to death by an unknown force. It chilled Bjorn to the bone and made him run faster. The weapon he carried only served to hinder his pace. It was a huge silver greatsword, three quarters his own size, and elaborately etched with runes of an exotic manner. It dug into his back causing him much pain. He fixed it and continued towards the castle. After a few minutes of running he became breathless and hunkered down against the nearest tree to regain his breath. " What am I doing. I'm no warrior." he thought. He felt like crying again but fought off his tears. Then he remember the starry sky. The twinkling of what seemed to be a thousand candles. It filled Bjorn with hope and confidence. He stood up hastily and renewed his journey. This time he wasn't going to stop. This time he wasn't going to cry or fall. He will triumph. The gates of the castle were typical of a European fortress. A motte surround the walls and the only way across was over a drawbridge. Bjorn was ready. The only problem was he couldn't get across the motte. The drawbridge was up. But all of a sudden it fell and with it a host of horrible creatures emerged from the darkest corners of the courtyard. A pack of wolves slowly approached from the right in their most foul form. Saliva drooled from their razor sharp mouths. Their claws like knives. To the left came a creature that was half bird-half woman. Its eyes were large and blood shot. Its talons pure black and razor sharp. A true harpy of horror. Then, from the centre, came a giant man with a wooden club in hand. Not a handsome fellow, either, but broad shouldered, fat mouthed, puffy eyed, strong, violent, horribly wrinkled, beetle browed and overall just ugly. Cropped black hair he had, and a dun garment. His rump and manhood swelled out under his tunic. A horrible creation he was. Bjorn unlatched his greatsword and held it in both hands. He took a defensive stance and prepared himself for the upcoming battle. His eyes fixed upon the enemy. Immediately the wolves charged at him. With great speed they came. Unorganized was there attack. Each one made a swing at Bjorn with their long claws. Some managed to scrape him. One even sliced a part of his hair. He met each with his greatsword. All fell at his feet. Then came the harpy, her scream was horrid. It broke the glass of the windows in the courtyard, spraying it across the floor. She charged at Bjorn and he charged at her. He swung his great sword at her chest with great ferocity, only to be stopped by her near indestructible talons. They dueled for a good two minutes, each trying to get the upper hand. But with one more swing of pure anger Bjorn severed her head. Her lifeless body fell to the ground. Bjorn was out of a breath by now. He cared little for his fringe which covered his eyes. He could see the giant fine enough. With a great roar the monstrosity of Eleonore ran at him. He swung his large wooden club and sent Bjorn flying to the opposite side of the court. Bjorn quickly gathered himself. He rose to his feet only to notice his greatsword lay behind the giant. Running, he dodged the careless and angry swings of the giant. The stone floor of the courtyard broke at the fall of the giants club. Huge craters surrounded the giant, each bigger than the last. Bjorn finally got his great sword and swung it at the leg of the giant, severing it from the rest of his body. He fell with a mighty thud. Bjorn finished him with a blow to the head. The giant was dead and it seemed Bjorn had won.

Paul was subdued by the wolfmen and their semi-human master. After a quick punch to the face he was out cold. Totally unconscious. His skills had failed him. His religion had failed him. The holy water he used did nothing. Nothing at all. The servant of Eleonore knocked it out of his hand, like as though it were a toy, before he made everything go dark. So dark. Now Paul was at his mercy. Fabian and Orna, however, had yet to have the same fate befall them....... " Orna. ORNA!" shouted Fabian, as he grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her violently. She turned her head from Johns colourless face, his lifeless body still cradle in her arms. His amber eyes were glazed over, staring into nothingness. Orna looked up. Soft tears fell from her puffy red eyes down along her gentle white cheeks. " We have to go. John would have died for nothing if the same fate meets us. Come.". Fabian was pulling Orna from Johns mutilated body when he heard a strange noise. It sounded human. It was human. The strong confident voice of a man carried along the wind. Fabian was confused. Was this the voice of a friendly human? Or a foe? It seemed as though if he were giving a speech. Then that dreaded howl of the wolfs echoed throughout the forest. It resonated with darkness. No longer did Fabian want to find out. He hurriedly lifted Orna to her feet. " Work with me. Come on. We have to run!". Orna was still gazing at Johns mutilated body. Fabian noticed this and forcefully turned her head around. He was essentially carrying her. She leaned against his left side and unhelpfully put one foot in front of the other. She was obviously in shock. Fabian increased their pace, trying to move as fast he could with her upon him. He spotted his white stallion lurking behind a tree. He guided himself towards it, hoping to reach it in time. It started to neigh..... Meanwhile Bjorn was on his own by the lake looking up at the necromancers castle. The elderly man had left him alone in the forest. He had a horrible inclination to disappear when needed most. Bjorns blue hair was bright on this moonlit night. He was a typical seventeen year old. His physique had much to be developed.His arms and legs resembled twigs. His thin tall structure was no match for any agent of darkness, and looking up at the castle just filled him with fear. Particularly that horrid laugh. A laugh of madness. He dashed to the nearest tree and placed his back against its bark. He sank down to his knees and placed his head between them. He started to cry. He told himself before he never would cry again after his sister beat him up in front of his friends back home. But now he could not resist the urge. He felt helpless and didn't know what to do. After a few minutes he looked at the stary sky with a snotty nose and puffy eyes. He cleaned himself up and made the decision to go to the castle. To get his friends. But with what? He had nothing. No bow, no sword. Fortunately he noticed an interesting looking weapon upon the ground. It wasn't there when he arrived with Running Bear. Could he have returned and placed it there while he wept? In any case Bjorn was glad for it. He latched it onto his back and made his way towards the castle. [hr] Meanwhile, in Faraway, Count Karlsson was a bit upset...... " Mister? MISTER?!?! I'll have you know that I am the most noble Edward Karlsson. Count of Northwood, representative of his most royal majesty the King of Ayr and member of the Patrician class. I request an audience with her holiness the chaplain of Faraway or, indeed, whoever may be of a position of power to negotiate a trade deal with me. I suggest you do so quickly or I shall have you flogged for insulting a member of the nobility! Your BETTER!" Well.......maybe a bit more than upset. Count Karlsson was usually a kind man. Perhaps the journey wore him out a bit much?

The sudden appearance of the elderly man frightened the group of adolescents. None more so than Bjorn, who dropped his bowl of stew and hid behind the nearest rotten chair. Everyone else jumped to their feet, weapons in hand, and faced the newcomer with caution. After a few minutes of careful observation it became clear to everyone that he posed no real threat, and actually wanted to help. Bjorn, surprisingly, was the first to approach the array of weapons laid out on the altar by the man known as the "Running Bear". A strange name, with an interesting story attached no doubt. Paul joined Bjorn in admiring the inventory of weapons brought by the old man. The variety of the tools of war, and magical apparatus, brought by the man were amazing. Almost otherworldly. Orna, however, was flattered by the kind words of the stranger and wished to learn more about what they were facing. Fabian, naturally, wanted to find out too. " This sorceress, where did she come from. What experiments has she conducted recently?". Then Fabian remembered Connell, " Did you see a blond haired boy pass through here? He would have looked eighteen years of age. Did you see hi.......". Fabian was stopped by a strange howling sound far off in the distance. It shook the very core of his being and made everyone else look in its general direction. " What was that?" asked Paul in a frightened tone. Then, even nearer to the church, a human scream could be heard. " John!" cried out Orna, rushing with her bow to find him. " No, stay here you fool. Don't leave the church." shouted Fabian, running after her. Paul charged outside too, with a vial of holy water and a large silver spear engraved with the symbol of the cross in his hand. They were running to their doom. Bjorn grabbed the crossbow lain out on the altar by the Running Bear and looked outside through the closest window. He could see dark figures running among the trees and started to fire silver bolts at them. He missed the first time, reloaded, and fired again. This time his bolt found its way into the heart of one of the dark creatures. It let out a horrible howl and fell to the ground. This seemed to anger the others and they broke off into the trees around them. Bjorn couldn't see them and changed his position, hoping to get another shot. By this time the elderly man disappeared. It seemed Bjorn was on his own. Meanwhile, outside the church, Orna was running towards the human scream which abruptly stopped. The forest floor was covered with leaves, making a crushing sound as she ran. The leaves were the colour of blood, but she didn't want to believe that. She kept telling herself he would be alright. To her horror she found the mutilated body of red bearded John. A large chunk of flesh was missing from his torso, his foot was gone, and a series of large gashes covered his body. Orna held him in her arms and cast out angry tearless sighs. Fabian arrived to the scene. " Come on Orna, we have to get back to the church." he said, touching her on the shoulder. " No..no.. we..we.. can't leave him like this." " Orna come on, we gotta move. NOW!". Not far from Orna and Fabian was Paul. Running aimlessly through the woods he got lost and found himself surrounded by the great dark creatures. Their eyes, even at a distance, burned brightly like a flame. Some had green eyes, others red. Some were even golden. " THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!" he shouted, desperately throwing holy water at the creatures who kept a safe distance. It seemed to be the end for him.....

A deathly silence loomed over the forest. It was as though if all the animals had disappeared or fled. But from what? The trees had grown wild and tall this deep in the wilderness. They seemed to cover the sky with their long brown branches, concealing the light of day from those who would dare enter this domain of nature. The silence of the forest was ever so slightly broken by the snapping of fallen branches under the hooves of numerous horses. These beasts of burden became ever more unruly as their masters lead them deeper and deeper into the forest. Their frequent neighing suggested that something lurked within the artificial darkness, something supernatural and unknown to this world. Fabian Karlsson could sense it too. Rather slowly he gripped his fathers cross, which he wore lightly around his long neck, and kissed it. " You seem to be holding onto that cross pretty tightly." said Orna with an indifferent face. Fabian looked at her. Her hair surprisingly kept its fiery texture in the darkness of the forest. It fell across her shoulders and over her breasts like red silk. Fabian could not help but admire her beauty. He thought of the week previous to this journey. How he, Connell and Orna enjoyed themselves together under the night sky, with the moon above and not a care in the world. Her smooth tender skin was whiter than ever before in its natural light. While Connells golden locks aroused Fabian all the same. But he had no time for such things with her in the forest. Not now. Especially since he used most of his energy to suppress the fear which gripped his body on a daily basis. " Yes, well, it may bring us some luck. God might watch over us as we conduct his holy business." said Fabian with a fake smile. As the group continued their journey northward they came across an old ruin. Fabian gave the order to dismount and set up camp within the hollow building as night had arrived and no light remained to guide them. " It seems to be an old church." remarked the blue haired Bjorn, moving his hand along what remained of a stained glass window with what seemed to be a saint on it. " It must have been abandoned centuries ago." " Or recently." replied Paul, taking off his helmet to reveal a golden head of hair. " It's better than nothing. I don't want to be sleeping out there among the trees. They move with a mind of their own. Consecrated ground is very much desirable in this cursed land." said red bearded John. " Agreed." thought Fabian. He felt better within the ruins of the church. " Bjorn, build a fire so that Paul might cook us a stew from the rabbits we caught and the herbs we gathered. John, check the perimeter and return when done. I bet you're as hungry as the rest of us." " Indeed." " And Orna, do you know any good songs?" " Yes I do. I have my tin whistle right here.". The group went about their assigned tasks. The fire was set in no time, and soon enough the stew was on the boil. Orna played a variety of tunes on her instrument, sometimes stopping to sing a song. It was going to be a long night.

" The King won't listen to me, the clergy think I'm insane and the commoners pay no heed to my words. Yet I'm still not deterred from my holy crusade. I must crush this evil before it spreads to our most noble Realm and destroys our christian way of life. Weee must crush this evil." added the solemn faced Count, placing his hand on the shoulder of his young son. A boy of barely eighteen years, his hair was pitch black and of medium length. His eyes were a soft blue, and it was evident that he was developing his muscular physique. Though he still had the physical manner of a seventeen year old. He was also renowned for his wit, which sometimes got him into trouble. " Yes father." he replied in a despairing tone. " Fabian, what's wrong? You don't seem to be your usual self." declared his noble father. Fabian looked into his eyes. His own were full of fear. Fear for his fathers life, and fear of the unknown. He heard his.......friend....., Connell Evergate, had disappeared while hunting in the northern wilderness. He didn't want the same fate to befall him, and he never wanted it to befall Connell. " I'm just worried about your life is all. What if you query too deeply into the matter at court? What if this is bigger than we expected and it goes as far as to threaten your existence? What if.....". Fabians mouth was wide open, but no words came out. He couldn't think of what else to say. It was all too overwhelming. " You worry too much son. If I die, I die. It's all part of God's plan. Besides, if I die, doesn't that prove I'm right? Won't it prove that someone doesn't want me to find out a secret that is worth killing over? Enough, it's time for me to go. Farewell son, and good hunting! Oh and here, before I forget.". Fabians father rummaged through his coat pocket and pulled out a silver cross. The Sacred Heart was etched upon it. He gave it to him." Go with God and return with him.". The Count mounted his black horse and rode off towards the horizon accompanied by six other companions. After a few minutes he was gone, as though as if he had merged with the horizon. Fabian turned to his own horse, a fine white stallion. " Are you ready?" called out a tall beautiful woman. She was at least nineteen years of age. Her amber hair was like fire, and her white skin like pure arctic snow. She wore a white fur coat with armour visible in places. A quiver was latched onto her back while she held a long exotic bow in her hands. " Yes I'm ready Orna." replied Fabian. He mounted his horse and guided it towards the radiant woman. He was joined by three other men. Well, one man and two teens. John, with his red beard, was twenty-eight, Paul, with his blonde hair, was seventeen and Bjorn was eighteen and had his hair dyed blue. Together they looked a strange bunch riding off towards the woodlands which would lead them to the accursed northern wilderness. " Onwards!" shouted Fabian, the others roaring in response. He kissed the cross which his father gave him earlier and galloped off towards the woods with the others in pursuit. John blew his hunting horn, which sent a crowd of crows flying from their perches in the surrounding vegetation before them. And so the journey had begun. Who knew what awaited them in the wilderness? Who knew what evil lingered there........

" Count Karlsson from the County of Northwood has arrived, your majesty." announced the royal steward. " Right now?" muttered the King, as he continued to write a letter in the candlelight of a flickering flame. " Very well, show him in.". The Count was dressed in a peculiar manner, typical of the Patricians who inhabited the northern most reaches of the Realm. They enjoyed hunting in the vast woodlands of Ayr, which extended far beyond the Realms borders right up to Hudson Bay. Sometimes they got lost in the wilderness, not knowing they had crossed into the Faraway Realm or indeed further afield while hunting deer. When they returned from their expeditions they did so with the most unusual rumours. Rumours which mainly came from the mouth of Count Karlsson. He enjoyed to tell of his encounter with a pack of wolf-like creatures, and how he fought them off until daylight with his trusty bow. Most thought him to be mad, others a lying fool. That was until more returned with their own tales of "Wolfmen". The King never believed Karlsson, but the Count would often declare in his presence that an evil resided in the northern wilderness. An evil which all good christians should fear. An evil which might come south one day. An evil which might be the Doom of Ayr. " Your Majesty, it's nice to see you again. How do you fair?" asked the Count. " I'm well my good Karlsson. I wish I could say the same for the trade of the Realm. We have no external commerce! Only with Faraway do we have any commercial ties. Thankfully that does not seem to affect the internal trade of Ayr. People seem to be generating sufficient income from farming, forestry, fishing and crafting. But that won't satisfy us for long. Anyway, what have you come to discuss?". Count Karlsson walked over to the only window in the room. It overlooked the city. The streets were quiet and dark. Not a living soul wandered the pathways. Not even a gust of wind blew through the streets. The only light present was that provided by the moon and stars. Though the streetlamps helped to keep the darkness at bay. " Well first of all the uniforms which you asked me to create are done. We have enough for over eight thousand men and women.". " Wonderful." replied the King. " I viewed the design of the uniform before they went into production. The Army of the Realm will look quite professional. What else?". The Count sighed. The King could clearly see he was unsure about something. But what? " You've heard the stories of the "Wolfmen" have you not? Well there is more. Something that I haven't told anyone else. You have to know the lay of the land in order to understand it. My grandfather, God rest his soul, taught me how to identify the presence of this which I am about to tell you. I suspect a necromancer may be hiding in the woods and I believ........" Charles interrupted the Count before he could finish. He could now see why Karlsson was unsure. He considered the wolf creature topic to be a pure farce. And now necromancers? Nonsense indeed. " Don't waste my time with your fables. I have important work to do. As a matter of fact you have work to do." The King finished the letter he was writing. He made his signature and placed his wax seal upon it. " You're to travel to the Faraway Realm to conduct a weapons deal. In this letter you will find what you need. Now go. And don't let me hear anymore of this supernatural business.". The Count left the room. He was disappointed at the King's interest. " Perhaps I could ask around the Court of the Faraway Realm. Maybe they know what's going on." he thought to himself. Karlsson looked at the letter one more time and went on his way to prepare for the journey.

The Social Order of Ayr Monarch The Monarch holds absolute power. The Monarch is the Realm. The Monarch may be of either gender and inherits the throne through seniority. If the Monarch proves to be unworthy, for whatever reason, he or she can be removed from office and their next of kin crowned in their stead. This is usually, however, a rare event. Patricians The Patricians are the intelligencia of the Realm. They are the movers and shakers of society. They are granted their noble status by the Monarch for services rendered to him or her. With their title they are given estates. The sizes of these holdings depend upon the magnitude of work done by said Patrician to the Realm. Patricians have the right to participate in Government. Citizens Citizens are rent paying freemen and women who own property. They are considered non-privileged. Though they cannot hold land outright they can rent land from a land-holding Patrician for certain fees which might include cattle or a percentage of harvested crops. A Citizen can become a Patrician when he or she has accumulated sufficient wealth, or brought glory to the Realm. Citizens can participate in Government. Commoners Commoners are free tenants. That is they hold little property or rented land from the Patricians or Citizens. Under law, they can rise to the position of Citizen when enough property or wealth has been accumulated. They form the greater body of the populace and farming class. The land they hold is woodland, wasteland or land held by a Patrician or Citizen, but rented to them. Commoners are considered by some to be the most important part of the community. They are the middle-class and larger portion of the Realm. They are the foundation of society. Commoners include not only those working as farmers and herdsmen, but tradesmen and craftsmen as well. Non-Free The Non-Free are people of any position who have been stripped of their rights for committing criminal acts such as murder, theft or rape. They act as a cheap labor force for those who obey the law. Their tasks include assistance with farming, forestry, construction or repairing whatever property that may be damaged. The amount of time a person serves as a Non-Free man or woman depends upon the severity of the crime which they committed. If they steal, kill, harm or try to escape during their servitude they lose a part of their body, usually a hand. If they commit another crime during their servitude they lose a foot etc.

Privy Council Hall King Charles has announced the creation of a Privy Council to help him rule over The Ayr Realm. The members of the Council were handpicked by the King himself from a large selection of subjects competent in the ways of politics. They have been granted the title "Councillor" and offer advice on all matters of state ranging from foreign affairs to finance. Their knowledge is broad but each Councillor specialises on a specific area such as diplomacy or social inclusion. In total there are five Councillors. They hold the following positions in relation to their speciality: Councillor of Finance Councillor of Administration Councillor of Foreign Affairs Councillor of the Environment Councillor of Education, Health and Trivial Matters Furthermore the King intends to establish an official "Army of the Realm". Recruitment is currently underway.

After months of demolition, relocation and construction the City of Charleston was finally complete, and just in time for the coronation of Charles Deane. [url=http://s1176.photobucket.com/user/PADDYD15/media/Kingsport.jpg.html][/URL] It was a lovely blue day for a coronation, clear and warm in Charleston. The view from the top of the Cathedral of St. Anthony was very nice, especially the wide open fields surrounding the capital. The cathedral was packed to the brim with aristocracy, politicians, family and friends. The cathedral was decorated with flowers of many beautiful colors, while the coat of arms of House Deane draped the walls. The people in the cathedral themselves were dressed in their finest attire. Slim black suits for the gentlemen, and elegant white, blue and red dresses for the ladies. The cathedral was illuminated by beautiful rays of light entering from the large windows of the cathedral. It was truly a beautiful day. At once the main doors of the cathedral opened. Everyone rose up from their seats and looked behind them with the greatest manners. Charles emerged from the sunlight dressed in a combination of armour and red regal attire. He looked Godly. He slowly walked up the aisle of the cathedral accompanied by two royal guards plated in armour, with their swords drawn and held upright. After being anointed by the Bishop with holy water and crowned with a golden diadem, he rose to the applause of the people who were shouting " Hail King Charles!". His reign had begun.

" Are they all here? Have you assembled them as I asked? Tell me!" queried Charles in a frustrated voice. " Yes, Lord Protector. Everyone is here. They await your presence in the Council Chamber. They grow more suspicious by the minute." replied the steward Belvus. " Good. You have my leave Belvus. Go now. You don't want to see this.". The steward bowed his head politely and left the entrance hall outside the Council Chamber. From behind the closed wooden doors of the Chamber the soft secretive sound of voices could be heard. The Seven were talking, whispering, plotting. It was driving Charles mad. He hated those who whispered. Charles turned to Tom " Captain Neville, are you ready to do this? Will you obey me when I give the order?" he asked, placing his hand on the Captain's shoulder. " Of course my Lord." he replied, with a solemn face. " You shall be greatly rewarded after this. I swear to you.". Ten of Neville's best men were with him in the room. They were all armed with handguns and swords. They wore black body armour and protective helmets. " Lets do this." proclaimed Charles, kicking in the Council doors. All at once the Magistrates stood up from their seats around the table. The expressions on their faces revealed their surprise and horror. " What is the meaning of this?" asked the Lord of Law, Albert Chalmont, as he approached the Lord Protector. " I was obviously too lenient. Your plan to exile my son and I will not be fulfilled. You will all die a traitor's death. Guards!". With the command given Captain Neville opened fire, followed by his men. Magistrate after Magistrate fell to the bullets of Captain Neville and his men. Charles decided to display his swordsmanship by thrusting his ornate sword into the bowels of the Lord of Law. A fountain of blood spewed forth from the Lords mouth before he fell to the ground dead. A minute later it was all over. The Seven Households had been eliminated. All, of course, except one.....House Deane. " It is over." said Charles, observing the bloody mess he had created. " I imagined it differently you know. I thought my nostrils would be graced with the smell of glory. Instead I can only smell the contents of the bowels of every dead man here. Disgusting. I knew they were all shit."

It was a dark and dreary night. The branches of the tree outside were moving wildly in the wind, while the rain lashed against the window with great ferocity. Edward Deane was sitting at the dinner table with his wife Amelia and their four year old daughter Charlotte. They were having a pleasant meal together. However, they were about to be disturbed by an unexpected visitor. " Sir, your father, the Lord Protector, has arrived." whispered the servant Brian. " Right in the middle of dinner?" muttered Edward weakly. " Tell him to wait." " No Edward, it's important that you see him. He is your father and the Lord Protector. He gave you your job and this house. To make him wait is just rude." said Amelia with a stern face. " Okay, okay. You're right as usual my dear." said Edward, leaning across the table to bestow a gentle kiss upon her cheek " Show him in.". A few moments later the Lord Protector entered the dining room. His attire was appropriate for a man of his stature and title. " Grandfather!" shouted Charlotte jumping from her chair with joy and running towards Charles. " Hello my dear." he said with a smile. He gave her a big hug and lifted her up in his arms. " Do you like your new house?" he asked her. " Yes Grandfather. My room is nice and big. There is enough space for all my toys!" said Charlotte enthusiastically. " That is wonderful." Charles replied as he put her down. He walked over to Amelia and kissed her by the hand " Looking stunning as usual my dear Amelia." he said. " Charles, it's so nice to see you again." " And you." he replied. " I've come here on important business. Do you mind giving us the room for a while?" asked Charles. " Of course not. Go right ahead." replied Amelia. " Thank you.". Amelia got up and took Charlotte with her. " Bye Grandfather!" she said waving her little hand. Charles waved back until she was out of the room. He then sat down in Amelia's place and relaxed. Edward got up and poured him a glass of wine. " They both grow more beautiful every time I see them." he said, taking the glass in hand. " Indeed they do father." replied Edward, taking a mouthful of wine. " What's so important if I may ask?". Charles leaned forward " Captain Neville has informed me that our dear friends have been meeting frequently in private. His ears in their homes tell him that they seek to exile you and I from this city within the week. They fear the power I have. They fear me, and they should. I built this city with my entrepreneurship, my courage and my wealth. They will not take it from me." Charles angrily drank his wine. " What do you plan to do?" asked Edward. " I plan to defend this family by all means necessary. My personal guard will handle these cowards easily enough." said Charles with a smile. " And what of the city? How can we build without them?" " By tomorrow four months will have passed since our arrival here. The city is almost complete. The only things that remain to be done are the port and the train station. We can complete them both without The Seven. We move against our enemies in three days time. Three days."

A month had passed in the Ayr Realm and the people of Thunder Bay were working tirelessly to finish the reorganisation of their city. The Master of Masonry, Martin French, had finished with the demolition of housing along the outskirts of the city and in other areas where housing was upon future farmland. Previous to this demolition the inhabitants of these areas were relocated with great haste to temporary accommodation west of the city. New housing was being built for them in the city centre in thanks for their cooperation. Land had also been allocated in compensation for the hassle caused. Lord French had also begun the reorganisation of the city as per the Lord Protectors plans. All the necessary building materials had been purchased from local suppliers, as well as from suppliers in the Faraway Realm and further afield. The city walls were slowly being built and the streets were being rearranged along with the housing inside the settlement. The Lord Protector wanted the city to be full of stately buildings, with hewed stone on the fronts of the houses and garnished with fine battlements in a uniform course. With the current rate of work and the material available the Master of Masonry calculated that half the city would be completed within a month. This was pleasing news to the Lord Protector. He wanted the city done before his term in office was over. In other news the port has been revamped and commercial ships are in their construction phase. The Lord of Whispers has arrested 10 men charged with intent to murder the Lord Protector. And the Lord of Law has issued a new decree stating that any man or woman who kills another man or woman should have their "favourite" hand cut off and their property taken. Meanwhile Edward Deane, son of Lord Protector Charles Deane, was appointed Port Provost. Accusations of nepotism were made by members of The Seven towards the Lord Protector. Edward Deane, Port Provost

Charles Deane, Lord Protector of the Ayr Realm Tom Neville, Captain of the Secret Service