Reading the remarkable Zorg Chronicles: Lightning, I had the thought that it could prove interesting - and, at the very least, a source of some personal amusement at least for me - for me to compose in the format of installments an ongoing chronicle of my own. This would relate far less to various exploits by this Emporer, Nuada the Silverhand, in the Standard Universe, than with his history, how his empire came into being, his ambitions, his drives, in short his character development. This is, naturally, not the historic Tale of Ancients, a treasured tome of Celtic myth, but an extrapolation of the conceit of naming your character after a Celtic deity.

So it begins...

Nuada, his Ard Rí's silver hand at the reigns, had been weeks stalking his prey, preparing himself and his empire for the terrible and explosive moment of the ride of the Dullahan. The bean sídhe wailed a caoineadh as the cu sídhe howled, and then as if from all quarters and yet none might one spy beyond the cu sídhe's glowing charcoal eyes illuminating their green sheen a headless horseman holding a ghastly skull, eyesockets crawling with worms as it laughed maniacally.

The Tuatha Dé Danann have from beyond Tir na nOg returned, the daoine sídhe, the aos sí, beings of myth no more, riding their furious fiery chariots in the sky to set forth from the pit of Din Scaith with serpents the legendary smoke, the mist of faeth fiadha.The Dullahan cracked a whip clearly made of someone's spine, the chariot he rode was made of bones, and then at last when the moment was right he named his opponent and the haunting caoineadh sounded.

Our day shall come again. Tiocfaidh ár lá.

Pretty good intro.
If only it was a little bit longer. xD
Has a lot of potential but is sort of vague

Call it a teaser. Certainly, more to come before long.

Irish
FOR ONCE google translate works
well nice story but some of the stuff is probably just lingo put in
your teaser is true
ur story=potential

I am a Phelan from the side of my paternal grandmother. Vital records lost in a fire have made determining precisely where from Éire her family has roots a challenge, although Contae Phort Láirge seems likely. My Gaeilge is frankly terrible, with the grammar particularly difficult for me, but I am indeed having myself some fun learning!

Nuada wrote:'What summoned us from Tír na nÓg? Why was my rest disturbed?'

His sleep was the sleep of hidden ancients, the sleep of his people, the sleep of the daoine sídhe, the aos sí, who had their sanctuary behind the veil. Rarely, perhaps but each annum as time by the Milesians was measured, might they continue to be seen at Maige Tuired where they were once deemed deities and now creatures of fable.

These were visits by the gate assured, perceived by the mortals as the will of the wisp or the flaming eyes of the cu sídhe by night, and - if heard - as the caoineadh of the bean sídhe that filled a mortal spine with fright at night. Periodically, the harp of the Dagda Mór might break the dawn, conveying to those who still might dream Airgetlám's words.

Nuada wrote:'What summoned us from Tír na nÓg? Why was my rest disturbed?'

'There was an assault, m'Lord. A structure fell. A foreign entity pierced the veil.'