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| Their story begins many years ago
(but not as many as you may imagine...) on a magical
mid-summer's night with the constellation of Capricorn
shining high in the clear night sky. ‘Twas this night in two
very different areas of the world that two lads, Mick the
Yank and Dermot the Dubliner, wandered far from hearth and
home into the realm of the Pooka as they stared at the
constellation above them. In the blinking of an eye, they were whisked away to a far away hill in the west of Ireland, not far from the town where variations of "Puck Fair" have been held every year these thousand years and more. The hill, known to locals as "Goat Mountain", is normally avoided by man, woman, and beast most nights of any year for the fear of the Pooka and what it could do. But having been magically transported to the very spot that would send chills down the spine of a normal person, they entered the magnificent treasure laden world of the fairies and found themselves in an underworld chamber surrounded by a herd of goats and facing the their King, Puck the Pooka, himself. |
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| read the full story... |
