(Parchment Scrap, from the Stacks of Corbel City.)

I cried out, calling on the very stones of Old Findias, as I hammered within the flaming cleft, spending my Ka shamelessly upon the claideb of Nuada. I smote his essence out of the sword, to replace it with my own. I called upon Nemed, the forefather, and pleaded with all the displaced gods of Fir Bolg for the right to wield it, and to salvage my people from the wrath of King Bres the Formorian. So hard did I hammer, that my blood sweated down upon it, to quench it.

All the skills of the Tri De Dana, did I call upon, for what greater power than ours exists among all gods now?

And this night of Beltane, my Ka rushed into it, and tightened its grip upon it, that I might bind with it. I came out from the crag victorious, and my people fell aground before me. I strode out across their worshipful backs, singing the tell of my skill.

We would leave this place for another, far from the madness of King Bres.

Unto the hall of the King I went and took up his crown, that I might rule fully all that Nuada's claideb, the Corm-Da, could not conquer. I raised the blade high then, and brought my servants forth to a new place.

The thunder heralded me, but the lightning and the Aos Si' plotted against me.-