The Dwarven Homeland of Connemara is famous - or infamous - for many things. The network of tunnels that riddle the rugged hills. The canals across the bogs and lakes. The patches of distorted reality that, more than the Fomorians, banshees and snakes, are responsible for the dwarves fleeing their homeland.
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"Really, Major? Not even this absolute tosh about 'gravity reversing' that I've heard about past the Corrib?" Ardsbury chortled, eyes twinkling with merriment. Hickie and Kane both smiled with him at first.
"I've seen that happen a few times, and it's not the strangest thing I've seen happen out there," Sidney replied before taking a sip, noting detachedly that their smiles vanished like a rat down a serpentoid's throat. "Some of the...effects can be quite unpleasant. But some are merely bizarre."
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