The Principality of Tears is a Changeling Fief and part of the larger Kingdom of Heather, which is in turn part of the Kingdom of Albion, known by mortals as England.
Overview[]
Though it is now officially a part of the Kingdom of Heather, the Principality of Tears retains its own identity and a very different mood from that of the moors and dales to the east. Bordered by the Irish Sea to the west and Morecambe Bay to the south, the principality's lakes and mountains make it unique in Albion. Once one of the most remote and unspoiled areas of England, the Lakes District has inspired poets and dreamers for countless centuries. Though many an angsty poet has mourned the injustice of it all in these hills, the kingdom draws its name from a legend about the lakes.
The lakes themselves are reminiscent of the lochs of Caledonia, just to the north. Like their northern counterparts, the lakes of this region tend to be long, thin, fingers of water, snaking their way between craggy hillsides. Lake Windermere, Coniston Water, and Wastwater are among the largest and most well-known, but smaller lakes (often with less tourists and the accompanying Banality that often follows in their wake) abound.
Wyverll's Tears[]
It is said that in the in the days when mortals first came to the island, mythic beasts roamed the land day and night. Over time, the dragons were slain and the nightmares banished to the dark places. But those who conquered the land saw little difference between the beasts, slaying both friend and foe in blind fear. One of the most well-known of these was a dragon called Wyverll. She had fared better than many of her kin in the more settled areas, having befriended many of the local folk in the valley where she made her home.
As the time of the Shattering approached, more and more of the fae stopped visiting her cave. Some stopped by to say their good-byes before departing for Arcadia, while others simply vanished. Soon she too began to feel the cold chill spreading across the land. She spent more and more time drowsing in her cave, until the time came when she knew she would have to leave. A sorceress nearby offered to open a gateway to another world, where many of the other mythic beasts had gone. There, she could live out her days in peace, without fear of knights with glory on their minds.
As Wyverll flew over the hills and valleys where she had made her home for centuries, she wept bitterly to think that she would never see them again. She wept for the fae who had likewise been forced to leave their homeland, and for the land itself. Her tears splashed down on the hills, and the hills themselves wept to see their friend leave. Waterfalls gushed forth from the rocky green hills, and all the tears pooled into silver lakes. The dragon promised that she would hold the land in her heart to the end of her days, and the spirits of the land replied that they would continue to weep until she returned. The lakes and waterfalls that sprung up remain to this day, though they are no longer as salty as they once were. Or so the legend goes.
- See also Park-a-Moor.
Cities & Sites[]
Keswick[]
A quaint country town when it's not overrun by tourists, Keswick lies on the shores of Derwentwater. Most travelers who come to Keswick do so for the hiking, biking, and other outdoor activities (as opposed to many towns in the southern Lakes, which attract Wordsworth groupies). As in many rural towns, you'll find the people of Keswick much more personable in the off-season. The local changeling motley (consisting of chiefly eshu and satyrs) is usually willing to show strangers around, and frequently journeys down to Park-a-Moor for revels and to talk with the artists there. Though they aren't apt to bring it up, group members have formed a band of sorts. They have yet to talk to anyone at Park-a-Moor about it for fear that Jamie will want to join in, but any newcomers to the area who are willing to give their music a listen and offer constructive criticism will earn their instant respect.
Castlerigg[]
On a hill a half-hours walk from Keswick lies the Castlerigg stone circle. Like many other stone circles, the stones of Castlerigg are configured in precise astronomical alignment to the spring and fall equinoxes, just as Stonehenge is to the solstices. No billboards proclaim the stones existence, and the easiest way to find them is by following a path over hills overlooking the lake.
Notable as one of the most magical spots in the Isles not located on or near a major ley line, Castlerigg has remained unsullied by the commercialism and Banality that have afflicted Stonehenge. Local Verbena as well as pagan Sleepers come to the circle periodically, but the annual revels, when the members of the Park-a-Moor household gather at Imbolg, are interesting. Usually one or two mortals come along for the revels, though the next morning they remember only dream like images of what transpired.
Though the spirits within the stones themselves are now sleeping, one or two can be coaxed out to share in the telling of tales under the starry February sky. Though the stone fae are notoriously shy, those who have been to the Imbolg revels say that the stories they tell in soft, low voices of times long past are truly wondrous.
Locals[]
References[]
- CTD. Isle of the Mighty, pp. 51-53.