Lord Fullbladder settles into the throne of Gwynedd just as lightning flashes darkly across the sky outside. An evil grin slowly lights his face as his empty eyes take in the facial features of everyone in the room. Little do they know that this man before them was but a puppet, their true ruler controlling the entire scene from some dark place far from public view.
Just days ago, in fact, something massive and mechanical rose from the graveyard. The pale gleam in the king's eye was but a reflection of that which burned in the wounds of the original Fullbladder, dead these past years. Dead but not gone.
The undead behemoth chuckled darkly from it's lair as it watched the it's subjects through the 'official' king's eyes.
((Eep! Don't kill me! I sent the distribution in, I swear!))