NAVEGACIÓN EN TRAMOS RECTOS CON CONDICIONES CLIMÁTICAS CONSTANTES A LO LARGO DE LA TRAZA

This freehold is one of the newest in Albion, having been created in the mid-'70s by Lady Ellyndil (known among her mortal proteges as Ellen Dilford). It has already come to be acknowledged as an artist's colony of sorts, drawing poets and watercolorists from the surrounding region to an inn on a hill overlooking the water.

The natural beauty of Conniston Water and the surrounding hills have inspired dreamers since the lakes' discovery. Through Lady Ellyndil's patronage, many gifted artists have been able to find the time and solitude they need to produce some truly wonderful pieces. Though Lady Greenlance of Nottingham has visited a few times, she and Lady Ellyndil seem to have had a tiff, and the two are no longer on speaking terms.

The unofficial court jester of Park-a-Moor is Jamie, Lady Ellyndil's ward. The young raccoon pooka's pranks are tolerated by most of the residents with a good-natured laugh, and his musical abiliry (or lack thereof) has led to some of the most hilarious sing-alongs the hills around Conniston Water have ever heard. Though Jamie is still a childling (and a pooka at that), he has a serious side that often puzzles newcomers. A sympathetic listener, Jamie even has the ear of Lady Ellyndil, and many expect that she will pass the freehold on to him when he is older.

Keswick

Only here for the weekend? Weil, I'll do my best to show you around, but there's more to see here than you could do in a week, and that'd be pushing it. I'll bet you that after a weekend here you'll be wanting to make it a week, and then another...that's how we all wound up here, you know. This place has a way of eating wanderlust for breakfast, it does.

— Josie Finn, wilder eshu

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

There are some downcountry who'd tell you Avebury is the one to see, and a few who continue to sing the praises of the bluestones

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in Salisbury, but I think you'll agree that we have something quite special up here in the wilds among the lakes.

— Lady Ellendyl

On a hill a half-hours walk from Keswick lies the Casrlerigg 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 dreamlike 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.

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Kithain

England is the source of many of the most enduring faerie myths and legends, hut in recent years it seems fewer and fewer English Dreamers have been inspired to create tales about their native land. And like their mythic forebears, the English fae seem to have diminished in power over time, just as those who were once considered gods in the early tales of the Isle were nothing more than mischievous imps and fragile insects by the height of the Victorian age. Today's Kithain are not united, and each kingdom is so beset with problems from Dauntain, rogue chimera and the ever-present threat of Banality that few have time to think of things on a national scale. Many have begun to miss the forest for the trees, so focused have they become on individual problems.

niggling details and worries.