Viscount Padraig Robin Goodfellow


While honeymooning in Ireland, the Lady turned up Pucknant, a first known occurance.
After his beheading by Chavalier, suffice to say Puck returned to Ireland, head under his arm and uncertain about his future ...


Viscount Padraig Robin Goodfellow shares a past with the puck known as Maia's Puck, who met his end by the sword of Chavalier. We pick up his story in the tavern after a hard day of drinking with the fair Giselle, when by chance he happened to make rude comment towards Cabot Kerbouchard.

The comment was overheard by a certain Lady Savitiri, who agreed with Puck, and a bond was forged. In addition Cabot tossed to Puck a bag of gold in which to purchase the Lady's favors, though in truth he spent it on booze and swindled the lady out of her favors some time later.
A whirlwind romance ensued after a botched attempt at an amputation in the tavern, broken up by one Lady Althea, the Damascus, and an attack by the most certainly mad and most probably spawn of Satan, Iris, who insisted that the two look at drawings of the aforementioned Cabot in a series of marginally erotic poses.

Interestingly enough, he seemed to have abandoned his traditional puck duties about this time, and spent his days and nights drinking and wreaking havoc with Lady S, who showed an early fondness for expensive brandy until she gave up her lucrative career as courtesan, and the two switched to an equally good but less expensive Irish whiskey. Puckss have traditionally never worked for gold or other legal currencies, yet to help support their expensive habits, Puck took to grave robbing - which accounted to some extent for the strange odor that he wafted about during this time. The relationship between the two was well known, (and rather publicly displayed in gory details),

Puck and the Lady Savitiri were married on 22 September. As a wedding gift from Margrave Iverne Starfell, he was bestowed with the title of Viscount, as well as some land and an annual pension. While honeymooning in Ireland, the Lady turned up Pucknant, a first known occurance.
After his beheading by Chavalier, suffice to say Puck returned to Ireland, head under his arm and uncertain about his future. Mr. Starfell made a house call and reattached said head, which now works more or less as before. The couple returned eventually, though Puck still stays home most night mending, and living the life of the idle rich, whilst his wife harbours plans of world domination.

(A fine account of VPuck's meeting and continuing life with the Lady Savitiri seems superfluous, as it can be found in her journal at http://www.livejournal.com/~ladysavitiri/ )

UPDATE: After publication of this article the two have separated, with Puck returning to his Gypsy wagon in the forest. In addition he has given up the title of Viscount, and is now known simply as Puck. He has recently been reported in the company of a certain Princess Charlotte Augusta, presumptive heir to the throne of Great Britain, who for reasons of her own call him Will. When asked about this, Puck was understandably vague, but I did note that he seemed to be working on a Scottish brogue.

A response to this piece was sent to me shortly after publication by the Lady Savitiri, in which she disputed my account and in fact, threatened my life.

To which I responded in kind and with great respect ...
by Aiden O'Corrain

In reference to your husband, I knew the fellow long before you, and before Maia even, our relationship dating back to his time in Eire. Much of the source material for my report came from his own drunken, marshmallow stained lips.

And yes, you ditzy vampire, I did not refer to gore as in Gor, which I am quite aware of (future installments of my report will cover the role of pucks in the realm of Gor, including one Stare_Master_Puck, whom it is rumored is taking slaves at an alarming rate, whipping them into shape with a hard aerobic workout and preparing his legions for war.)

You are correct to assume I was referring to your "public displays of affection." Evidence to your lustful actions was scraped, identified genetically and catalogued from each of the sofas in the tavern (and both sides of the cushions at that).

In addition I have statements from numerous witnesses to your cavorting beneath the tables, and announcing your pleasures in flowery, some might say poetic terms. While some might have found your inability to control your unnatural urges "quaint," there are many, including respected members of the management, who were distinctly not amused.

I might also note that in conversations with Padraig, he confessed that prior to meeting you he was wholesome and quite innocent, but that you "erotocized" him. He could not elaborate further, as he was forced to down prodigious quantities of whiskey to erase the thought from his mind.

Though in retrospect he did adopt a winsome look and shuffled off to discuss this matter with you at that point, so I can assume you have already felt the sharp end of his tongue.

As for attending the birth of the pucklets, I can assure you madam, I would rather witness the removal of my own appendix. However in the name of science and my own investigations, and at the insistence of my good friend Padraig, I might very well be there, lurking in the shadows. If so, I hope to see you then, and if not I remain ...

yours

A

Posted: Thu - April 28, 2005 at 04:33 PM          

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