This is the tale of two groups of battle-weary warriors who unite to create and develop a self-sufficient community with all good intentions, but unfortunately, they misjudged the long-term sincerity and potency of individuals destined to shape the future. It was not so much a parish council that looked after the needs and welfare of the village, but more a group of slightly crafty, but well-meaning individuals who upheld standards, and maintained law and order; not that there was any crime, and generally catered for the wellbeing of every resident. The small village of Stoleware had a population of around two hundred and fifty. However, no one had actually bothered to take an accurate headcount. It had always been on the list of things to do. Within the quiet rural village is a pub and brewery, a place of worship which was used as a social centre, meeting room and schoolroom, a general store from whence virtually anything could be obtained, and a number of extremely desirable, well-camouflaged, detached properties. Kenmore, in the Scottish Highlands, is the closest listed village being around twenty miles south-east of Stoleware. So Stoleware seems the perfect place that time has left alone.