It is early June on Shay Mountain.  The good season is in full swing, evidenced by beautiful wildflowers that sprang forth from every corner and fresh produce flowing from the gardens.  Gentle breezes carry the scents of fresh cut hard woods through the air; thankfully, no fierce storms have appeared this season.  The sounds of life echo throughout the surrounding valleys…it is a good day.

All around the camp, people are abuzz with activity.  They are finishing the preparations for tonight’s celebration.  The Farrells and Shays had recently lost their bren’in, Manan, to illness.  His departure was deeply saddening as he was well loved by all.  His eldest son, Ciniod O’Farrell, was to replace his father this evening.  Your clans’ bren’in is leading a delegation to their camp to pay respects and join in the festivities.  Farrell get-togethers were well known throughout the clans and those that were attending were anxious to begin the half day trek.

Setting out upon the years old, well worn path that wound up the mountain, the familiar landscape you’ve known since childhood begins to envelope you.  Even at the higher elevations, Shay mountain always produced a thick canopy of treetops and luscious undergrowth.  Some areas were so dense that even the most seasoned trackers would second guess attempting to pass through.

The atmosphere in your group is jubilant.  Everyone is excited to see the new bren’in…despite living so close, few travelled to the Farrell’s camp and fewer still had met Ciniod.  They are more excited, however, for the party after the ceremony.  This one promised to be an epic tale for the ages.

Sometime around midday you all pause by a stream and settle in to cook some lunch…

OOC: While you all hail from the same clan, it is quite possible for you to barely know one another.  You’re clan, Dre'aryn (drree-aar-inn), numbers around 50.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:23, Fri 03 Mar 2017.

Fachtna kept a discerning eye out for flora on the trek. The healer kept toward the front of the group. At first, anyway. It didn't take long for him to fall toward the back, checking out the trees and brush, only to notice he was lagging behind and scurry forward with an owlish blink. He didn't head out that often. His skills as a healer were valued back home, and if he was being honest, he had a healthy fear of local wildlife.

Being surrounded by his clan under the warm sun melted those fears away. Once everyone settled down for lunch, he refilled his canteen in the stream, then he sat down on a big root snaking toward the side of the trail. He drank and quietly waited for everyone to get settled. What was visible of his knuckles had tattoos creeping down.

He thought about the bren'in's illness and death. He thought back to the omens he had interpreted, certain now they correlated with the loss. He would need to see if good fortune was on the way too.

Fachtna was known for being a bit of an odd one, so it wasn't all that surprising he was passively listening to and watching the others. Still, he looked a little lonely sitting off in the shade, seeming more caught up in his own daydreams than the excited atmosphere.

Erbin didn't stick with the group most of the time, he would be there the suddenly veer off along a game trail looking for tracks and game. Then he would slip back and join the group somewhere farther along the trail.

Honestly he had been a little surprised that he had been asked to join the clan on the trip to the Farrell's. On most such outings and celebrations he had been left behind.

During the stop for lunch he stuck to the edges of the group, seeing Fachtna sitting off by himself, Erbin wandered over and took a seat on a rock nearby. "Heya Fachtna, why you sitting over here by yerself?"

Fachtna blinked, looked away from the empty air he'd been staring into to smile at Erbin. "I feel a little out of place," he admitted with a shrug. "We all are though, aren't we, in some way or another."

He gave Erbin another funny little smile. There was a knowing glint in his eye, like he and the hunter were both now privy to some private joke. He drank from his canteen and watched the others.

"I'm fine to sit here and enjoy it. I mean, seeing everyone together." He meant it. He couldn't recall the last time Erbin had come on an outing. "Tonight you might have to put those tracking skills of yours to good use. I'm scared I'll spend less time enjoying myself, and more herding drunks out of the brush."

Cador stood at the edge of the gathering, silently. He scanned the crowd for scavengers from other clans. If he could, he'd chat them up to try and share tips and tricks: it might be a while until this many clansfolk were gathered in one place again.

"Gentlemen, how are things going so far?  Are we all ready for tonights' party?  Should be one hell of a bash!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:44, Tue 07 Mar 2017.

Iain trudged along in the middle of the pack, his thumbs hitched under the straps of heavy looking pack, the seams stretching under the weight contributions from the Clan towards the celebration.

He wore a homespun woolly green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a patched pair of tan cargo pants made of some kind of canvas like material.

"Can't wait" he replied to Ruairidh with a grin from beneath his bushy beard. "I've downed three full skins of water today, and I've got a clump of Bear Clover set asside for the morning after"
It was commonly known that Iain was perhaps too fond of the drink, and had been counciled against it in the past as it tended to make his boisterous...And physical.

"You hear much about this new Bren'in?" He asked in turn, curious about the focal point if the whole gathering.

"Very little unfortunately.  I don't get up that way much these days, too much crap going on down below and with some of the others."

Looking around briefly he leans forward towards the small group...

"Just between us...I haven't heard much good about him from a few of the other clans.  Some say he's too violent and unpredictable."  He pauses slightly looking at the path ahead.  Turning back once more...

"More than partying to be seen and heard up top there", dropping a sly wink before standing back up straight.

Though Erbin found the whispered comment a little worrisome he decided to not comment on the subject.

OOC: So did we want to press onward to the main event, so to speak?

OOC: I suppose so, unless someone is waiting for something.

Eventually, your small group once more treads the well worn path steadily climbing higher towards the Farrell camp.  As you cross over into their lands, the first of a steady line of homes comes into view.

Soon, much of the forest gives way to rolling hills dotted with fields and small shacks.  As you draw closer to the camp center, people begin to appear, welcoming you and greeting you to their lands.  The air is jubilant and happy and the sounds of laughter and voices can be heard echoing throughout the area.  As you finally reach the camp square you are greeted by a cacophony of laughter, shouting, music and roaring engines.  The games have apparently begun with the most popular being the knife throw and, of course, the gauntlet (1 on 1 combat mounted on ATVs).  The Farrell wine is flowing freely and mason jars of all sizes are offered to you left and right.  The band is playing an electrified fuzzy bluegrass sound (if you're using Losty terminology), something like Hank Williams III played through a phonograph and bullhorn.  Ruairidh indicates that he needs to speak to a few other bren'ins and would be back before the ceremony began.

OOC: Just a note on Farrell wine.  This stuff is old school, rocket fuel moonshine with a secret blend of unknown botanicals.  Not only will it get you drunk as all hell (how much differs) but how it's particular blend of herbs effects you can vary as well.

OOC: So...any actions?  Ponderings?  Spontaneous interpretive dance numbers?

sorry, I'm back!

Fachtna smiled, muttering back his own subdued pleasantries when greeted. There were lots of mason jars being passed around. Now, he told himself he wouldn't overdo it, but it was kind of hard to not overdo it on Farrell wine. At the same time, who was he to turn up his nose at hospitality?

He meandered around the camp, checking out the festivities. He decided to hunker down and listen to the band, keeping his eyes on the crowd. He tried to catch a glimpse of the new bren'in and where Ruairidh had went off to, but quickly got distracted by people watching.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:17, Thu 23 Mar 2017.

Erbin wandered around the festival sampling the food and wine. Enjoyed a dance or two with a couple of young ladies. And listened to any gossip that was floating around.

As the sun began to set off in the distance, the festivities slowly began to end.  The generators were turned off and torches were lit from every corner of the compound.  The encampment soon became like a wave as everyone fell into line marching their way to the center pavilion.  The building itself looked like a massive, three-story barn that had been cut down the middle and separated by a 5' wide plank walkway.  There were no actual doors, only openings where they may have existed at one time, and the upper levels were encircled with windows of all shapes, sizes and styles.  The far back wall had bars built into the wall on either side and in the middle of the room hung a massive, animal-horn chandelier set in line with the main fire pit.

As the room filled to capacity, a hush fell upon the gathered crowd just as the elders entered and took their respective seats behind the throne.  Silea, the head elder, stepped forward and began to recite the bren'in line, the clan history, and other such speeches that the orators cite.  Ciniod was then brought forth and made to recite the various pledges a bren'in must take; to the mountain, the gods, and the clan.  When the ceremony was completely, Ciniod was presented to the gathered clans as the bren'in.  A chorus of "Gid Gid Ya" echoed throughout the building and surrounding hills.  As the mood of the crowd turns once more to merriment, the distant hum of the generators returns as the band once more kicks into another jam.

Ruairidh makes his way through the crowd and, slowly but surely, manages to hunt each of you down in the drunken mob.

"Before any of us are too drunk to know what we're doing, what say we make our way over to Ciniod?  I figure it can't hurt to deliver a personal blessing on him...and it'll give us a chance to see what he's like."

Erbin climbed down from his perch and sat his drink aside, "Sounds like a plan."

Ruairidh and Erbin slowly begin weaving through the crowd of revelers, making their way towards the main pavilion.  Still seated upon his newly claimed throne, the new bren'in appeared to be in good spirits.  His golden-red hair sat almost like a flaming aura against his crown of vines.  In his right hand he clutched the sacred oak staff, the symbol of the bren'ins power.

"Rumor has it the oak was fashioned by the first bren'in from a tree that had already seen several hundred summers upon the mountain before the Farrell's arrival.  They say it still stands to this day."

Chattering with those around you, Ruairidh bides his time, waiting for an opportune moment to present himself.  Stepping forward and showing his respect (bending forward while raising two fingers first to his lips, then forehead, and finally extending them forward towards Ciniod), he proceeded to declare his name and list his family tree several generations.  Before he could finish, Ciniod cut him off...

"Come now, such useless nonsense.  Does anyone really even care about such lineages...?", he posed the question to no one in particular.  You notice a few unhappy glances from the elders as Ciniod spoke.

"My apologies, bren'in, tis simply our way.  I am Ruairidh McEntyre-Farrell, bren'in of the Dre'aryn.  We have traveled here today to pay our respects to the new bren'in of the mountain."

"And who is this we you speak of?"

Erbin stands slightly behind and left of Ruairidh, the new Brenin's disregard for tradition was something he had not expected and caught him a little off guard. Slightly confused he glanced at Ruairidh, not exactly sure whether he should introduce himself or wait for Ruairidh to continue.

In reply to Erbin Shay (msg # 19):

Travis had recently arrived, a small satchel of some baubles and herbs rested on his hip and was held there by a shoulder strap that seemed to be hand made from some kind of animal skin.

His propensity to step lightly had left him unobtrusive and innocuous enough that most did not notice his approach let alone his arrival.

noticing the congregation, and kneeling, he deduced that the introductions for the new Bren'in had begun and so his light steps quickly turned enough to take his path towards those gathered. Upon joining, he would quietly remain on the outer edges of the crowd. he had a great deal of practice observing unseen by much better observers and so, once again, itd be likely his presence would go unnoticed.

Ruairidh turns and signals for Erbin to step forward...

"This is one of my kin, Erbin, a fine a man as any in the land.  I came with others but...well, they seem to have been lost in the festivities."  He chuckled slightly, hoping that Ciniod would find good humor as well.

"Can't even keep them in line for 5 minutes?  Ha!  Remind me not to call on you guys to guard the still!"  Ciniod bursts out in laughter as several other men around the room join in.  Glancing about you notice several men that look from you to Ciniod and back.  Clearly, these were his goons.  Several elders, again, roll there eyes.

Ignoring the slight, Ruairidh turns on the charm and joins in the laughter.  A steady twitch in his right eye tells a different tale; the slight would not soon be forgotten.

"So tell me about yourself then, Erbin, the only other one come to meet their new king."

In reply to Heart of the Mountain (msg # 21):

Travis frowns, this man did not bode well for The Mountain and he had no doubt The Mountain would not receive this new 'Bren'in' well. Travis knew he would have to make preparations to keep the mountains spirit at some semblance of peace.

Though the new kings manners had left Erbin a little confused, he gave the king the customary respect and greeting "Not a lot to tell my king. I am a hunter and tracker for my clan, and aid in raids and it's defense when called upon."

"A skilled raider you say?  You may come in handy yet.  Our stores of yeast are running dangerously low.  I told my fa we needed more months ago but he never liked calling for raids down the mountain.  But he ain't in charge anymore now is he?"

Again he belts out in laughter followed by a (smaller) chorus of others.  Several within the hall had slight scowls upon their faces at the mention of the previous bren'in.

"I assume your group will be staying the night amongst us.  Please, find me in the morning and we will discuss this further...if your bren'in has no issue?"

Ruairidh turns his head to see you as well as hide his expression.  He was clearly not thrilled with the idea.  Turning back to face Ciniod...

"It is not my place to say what my kinsman can or cannot do.  He is a free man, like we all, and may choose his own path."

Fachtna wandered up through the crowd, having been directed by some other party-goers where to go. He was stumbling a bit and gripped a mason jar in both hands, as if holding it was a very concentrated effort. He watched the others talk with a confused expression. Drunk and confused. What had he missed? He was trying to process if all the teasing was good natured or not.

He watched Ruairidh and Ciniod, but the quiet healer seemed to shy to intrude, even with the drink buzzing in his system.

Spying Fachtna having entered, Ruairidh bids him join them...

"Bren'in, may I present another of my clan, a talented healer"

Fachtna smiled and obliged Ruairidh, strolling veeeery carefully up to greet the new bren'in.

"Hail, Bren'in Ciniod! Apologies for my late arrival, I was off losing at knives," he greeted, likely louder than intended. "My name is Fachtna."

He bowed his head politely. "I do serve as a healer, but I..." He teetered a bit. "I'm alsho skilled at... Creating lots of different concoctions. Poisons, party favours."

He grinned loosely.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:31, Thu 13 Apr 2017.

"I see the wine has gotten ahold of this one.", he lets out a mighty laugh as he stands from his throne.  "With that in mind, I may have to challenge you to a game of knives at some point...with a small wager."  He grins widely at Fachtna as he begins making his way through the crowd.  "Enough of all this ceremony, let's get this party going!  Gid Gid Ya!", and with that he proceeds to exit the building and disappears into the throngs of revelers.

Ruairidh gave a curious glance at Ciniod as he walked by; a look of confusion and concern.

"I'm gonna go have a chat with the elders."

His expression was unhappy at best.

Erbin was confused, dismayed and a little upset with the way Ciniod had acted, the man evidently had no respect for tradition or others. Move over to where Fachtna stood, "Looks like you have had a little more to drink than you planned on."

Erbin looked around, keeping an eye on those from his clan and those that had seemed to be the close followers of the new Bren'in.

Fachtna hiccuped. "No no no," he shook his head to Erbin, in denial. "The amount was ex-zact-ly as planned but how it hit me, ahhh, so- not so much."

He tittered and looked over at Ruairidh, noted his troubled expression, then back to Erbin. His smile dropped. "Did something happen?"

Erbin looks around to see if anyone is trying to overhear their conversation "No not really I suppose. It seems the new Bren'in is somewhat disrespectful of tradition."

OOC: If no one has any further business, questions, or actions for the remainder of the evening, we can assume you all simply partied your asses off and we'll move along to the subsequent hangover...I mean morning.

In reply to Heart of the Mountain (msg # 34):

I will make a point to remain sober and to listen in on what people say. I will drink some, enough that I am not impolite, but not nearly as much as everyone else.

The party had truly been one for the ages.  Barrels of wine were consumed, dances were had, blood was spilled...it was a celebration like no other.  The joy and merriment, however, quickly disappeared as the morning sun crashed waves of pain across the throng of revelers.  The camp, once filled with the sounds of happiness, now sounded like a wounded tent on a battlefield.  Indeed, it was quite the party.  Before long, those that had kept their wits, or simply minded their intake, were up and about preparing breakfast.  Soon the smell of coffee, eggs and bacon wafted through the air.  While a pleasant and welcome smell for most, many heaved their disapproval into the closest bush or hedge.  Those that were able made their way to the main pavilion.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:00, Sun 16 Apr 2017.

In reply to Heart of the Mountain (msg # 36):

Travis prepared a few cups of coffee, one for each of his fellow's, and delivered them in kind. small doses of ferral wine was entered into the coffee to help the mind recover from the poison and withdrawl.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Sun 16 Apr 2017.

Erbin awoke far later than he normally did. His head was throbbing and his moth was horribly dry, whatever was in that wine was incredibly strong. He had only indulged in a small amount, he could only imagine how some of the others were feeling. The smell of coffee roused him out of his stupor and he slowly began moving, regretting each tiny move, eventually he found the coffee cup someone had so thoughtfully left. Checking it to make sure it wasn't to hot he finished half a cup before stopping.

After several long minutes the headache slowly began to recede, slowly making his way to the groups campfire. Noticing Travis moving about, "I guess I have you to thank for this life saver."

In reply to Erbin Shay (msg # 38):

As he saw his fellow approach he made a nod of greeting, in response to the gratitude's he smiled lightly, "we may need more fixen then that wit' this Bren'in."

From out of the bushes stumbles a large, hairy figure covered in in leaves and twigs.  As the figure starts brushing himself off, you find you are staring at Ruairidh.

"That...was an interesting evening...and someone please hand me some coffee, my head is screaming.", and he slowly walks his way over to the small group.

In reply to Ruairidh McEntyre-Farrell (msg # 40):

Travis is already slowly shuffling past Ruairidh as he is brushing himself off, a cup with its handle aimed in the bush mans direction, he seems prepared to shuffle on past whether the cup is accepted or not.

"Morning"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Thu 27 Apr 2017.

"I hope I don't attend another party like that for awhile."

Drawn like moth to flame by the smell of food, Maeryn arrived at the main pavilion to claim her share of breakfast.  She was tired, but in better shape than most.  Her arrival in the night had gone unnoticed by most.  Scavenging was a necessity and she'd stumbled onto a haul that was too good to pass up, party or no party.  As such, she had forgone imbibing in the deathly wine in favor of sleep and had crashed shortly after pitching her tent, indifferent to the noise of stupidly drunk revelers.

Her stomach growled as she collected her plate and then hunkered down on a stump near the fire to eat.  "Drink too much?" she asked Erbin.  "Not alone in that, I see."  Dark eyes flitted to Ruairidh and then away.  "Ya get a gander at the new Bren'in?"  Her fork scraped against the tin plate as she shoveled a mound of eggs into her mouth.  She ate quickly, but neatly.

"Pain does not even describe what I am feeling."

He cradled his coffee with love, his only respite this morning.

"Yeah...we met him.", he says rather dryly, not taking his eyes off his coffee.

Erbin raises his coffee cup to Maeryn, "No where near as much as the rest of this did, but whatever it is they put in that wine doesn't seem to care how much you drink." Erbin drinks the last of his coffee and then pours himself another. Looking around to make sure they are alone, "Can't say I was impressed, overall."

In reply to Erbin Shay (msg # 45):

Travis sat down, quietly and unobtrusively, next to Erbin "Not too much" and he made a subtle head gesture to the coffee.

His form tucked itself in to keep warm as he slowly worked on a little breakfast as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Sun 30 Apr 2017.

She snorted into her coffee.  Tasting the slight hint of alcohol in the bitter liquid, she flashed Travis an appreciative smile.  Her boots shifted in the dirt as she leaned forward on her knees.  "Sounds like things didn't go 'zactly as planned."  Her attention shifted again to Ruairidh.  "What's that mean for the likes of us, though?  Bad leaders make piss poor decisions and get people killed."

"Agreed...but so far its been rumor and hearsay.  His manners certainly leave something to be desired, that's for sure.  I guess it remains to be seen but I want you all on your guard.  Listen, watch, learn..."

In reply to Ruairidh McEntyre-Farrell (msg # 48):

Travis made a concerned look, then semi mumbled, "raid happy trouble" towards his food. A thought occured to him and he begun to gently rake the fingers of one of his hands into the ground by his feet.

"Anyone wanna farm?"

She nodded slightly. "Always watchin'.  Always listenin'."  She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully, throwing a glance around as the camp began to wake.  Others were dragging themselves out of a drunken stupor and most looked like they were in pain.  "How long we hanging 'round?  Festivities planned for today?  Competitions?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:57, Sun 07 May 2017.

"I'm sure there's still going to be games happening but I'd like to stick around a little and see what we can learn from more sober minds.  I think Ciniod wanted to see some of us anyway."

"See us for what reason?  Want us to do tricks or some such?"  She smiled at the thought of Travis juggling or Fachtna standing on his head.  "Ain't wanting to farm.  Want to get back to raidin'.  One of the ATVs 's slipping a gear and need fixin'.  Need parts bad."

In reply to Maeryn Farrell (msg # 52):

Travis gave  Maeryn a funny look, whatever she was thinking... he probably wouldn't want to be doing. "too much raiding, urge is understandable."

he brought another mouthing of food up, and began to eat it.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Mon 08 May 2017.

"Actually, I believe a raid is exactly what he had in mind.  Can't say I'm too keen but I guess we'll never know what kind of leader he is if he doesn't ever lead."

Erbin finished his coffee but skipped the rest of breakfast, "Hopefully his ability to lead is  better than his personality seemed yesterday."

"Well, I guess we should go hunt this damn fool down and see what's happening."

OOC: Who is planning on finding Ciniod and who has other plans?

In reply to Ruairidh McEntyre-Farrell (msg # 56):

with a frown, Travis goes to rinse and return his plate.

He offers to take anyone else's who seem to be done.

After finishing this task, he would return to the group promptly.

Maeryn finished her plate and coffee and dumped the dirty dishes into Travis' hands as he passed, more than willing to let someone... anyone... clean up for her.  She dusted crumbs from her shirt as she stood up, giving Ruairidh a nod.  "I'm game.  Anybody else?"  She looked to the other men.


OOC:  Maeryn will go with Ruairidh to find Ciniod.

Putting his cup away, "Sure, I'll tag along."

Marching through the encampment you begin to see signs of life as others have woken.  Many seem extremely hurt...far too much drink one would assume.  Still, livestock need attending and fields need working.  Many, in fact, seemed right at home with attempting to negotiate hung over.  After making several inquiries as to Ciniod's location, you end up at a large home towards the outskirts of the encampment.  Seated around a small fire, mowing down eggs at an alarming pace, sit the same faces the day before laughed along with Ciniod's lack of tact...his goons, apparently, never traveled too far.  Without offering a seat they inform you that Ciniod would be out presently and to simply wait.

In reply to Heart of the Mountain (msg # 60):

Travis had somehow slipped back in with the group before they had arrived at Ciniod's goons. Likely he had time to rinse the dishes and catch up because of the time it took the group to navigate through the disoriented, hung over, clan to find Ciniod's location.

When the goons explained that the new Bren'in was out, Travis unobtrusively slipped out and began to glance around to see of any signs of recent passage from the location. his knowledge of animals and tracking would allow him some ability to differentiate between animal tracks and human tracks as well as allow him to spot tracks in general.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Fri 12 May 2017.

OOC: The area is nothing but tracks, scraps, and other marks.  While it was near the outer edge of the encampment it was still a rather heavily trafficked area.

Maeryn leaned against one of the trees, pulling out her pocket knife to whittle away at a stick she plucked from the ground.  She eyed the goons for a moment, glanced to the others, and then started scraping at her stick.

Fenella stirred on the ground. She made an effort to recall just what happened prior to her passing out, but soon gave up. Her mentor had to come here to see the new bren'in, and she came along, of course, but after that... She was not the one to socialise much, but clearly something had gone wrong. Only one thing was clear and it was that she had not abstained from wine. Beyond that, it seemed pointless to probe now.

Silently the young woman rose and started to brush herself off. At least she still had her garbs. Next she would need to acquire coffee and try to track down her elder... probably in that order, if her headache was anything to go by.

Time passed, as it does, and eventually Ciniod makes his appearance.  Clumsily he opens the door, smacking it into the side of the dwelling.  Shielding his eyes against the sun, he spies the campfire and stumbles awkwardly towards it.

"Good lord that stuff is gonna be the death of me.  Now who the hell do I gotta kick to get some damn coffee and breakfast around he?", he barks towards the assembled.  Instantly, the small group springs to life as they hastily pile eggs onto a plate while passing him a large mason jar of coffee.

Seating himself on a small piece of log, he begins chewing away at his eggs.  Devouring half the plate in a matter of seconds, he swallows a huge mouthful of coffee before turning to the group.  "Well, good to see you can get yourselves motivated.  Let me finish up here and I'll meet you at the barn.  I got big plans today and we're gonna need some numbers."

In reply to Ciniod O'Farrell (msg # 65):

Rather then return back inside at the sound of the Ciniod's emergence, Travis instead decides to just lean against the domicile's outer wall from the outside... once more unobtrusively of course... and in a spot where he could hear what was going on inside wich wasn't hard considering most of these buildings were no better then cobbled shacks.

"Barn," she repeated to her group unnecessarily.  Tapping the curls of wood from her shirt, she pushed off the tree and tilted her head in the direction of the barn.  With another glance at Ciniod and his lackeys, she struck off in that direction.

Erbin followed Maeryn as they headed for the barn. While inconspicuously checking the various blades as he walked. Once out of ear shot of the Brenin and his goons,  "Ruairidh have you ever had any dealins with Ciniod previously?"

"No unfortunately but I'm not liking any so far.  He seems far too brash for such a position.  Let us just pray he's a better tactician than politician."

You find the great hall a much more picturesque sight when it wasn't fool of people.  Aside from the racks of antlers and scores of mounts, there existed countless engravings and other works of art.  Intricate designs laced around the wall in a worn but still visible spectrum of color.  Large symbols, glyphs, and Ogham wards graced every post and visible beam.  It must have truly been a labor of love.  A small group of five others sat in the room closet to the central fire pit.  There were still taking in their breakfast and coffee when you entered and invited you to join them.

Kyla had spent the previous night with the small Donahue contingent. Her parents had come because they had hoped she would be there with her new clan. They had brought baby gifts from her siblings and friends, most of which had made Kyla cry but then, what didn't these days? Her father had presented her with a brand new set of gardening tools which had kept her smiling and sniffling for hours. He had traded with a woodcarver to have good luck symbols carved on the handles and hafts along with the sigils of her old clan and her new. Donal was not a talker but he was deeply thoughtful, much like her Innis had been.

As Kyla ate her breakfast of sweetened porridge without nuts (became her mother didn't think nuts were good for pregnant women), she saw her new clan leave their campment. She hurried to eat but even hurrying, the others were on their way to the barn before she finished. As she struggled wth the big bag of gifts, her father took them from her and said they'd be by later to bring them to her. She kissed him gratefully then made her waddling way to the barn where she stood in the back of her clan grouping.

Glad of a better reception in the barn, Maeryn drew closer to the fire and took a seat to wait for the new Bren'in.  She rubbed her hands together to warm them, still feeling a bit chilled from the night.  Tucking them into her coat, she pulled it tightly about her and made herself comfortable while they waited.  "Could use a hall like this back in our neck of the woods, eh?" She gave the others of her clan a glance.

"Maybe one a little smaller, ya could fit the whole clan in here with room for most tha livestock to boost." Erbin worked his way around the barn looking at various carvings.

Kyla was awestruck by the barn. Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her for something like this. Certainly, the small Donahue clan didn't have anything so grand. Their meeting place was a tiny pavilion of several posts and a roof. Her new clan was much bigger, of course, and could use a barn like this. She shivered at the thought of such a project and hugged herself.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:00, Thu 01 June 2017.

The small group was genuinely warm and pleasant, keeping both the chatter and coffee flowing freely.  Four of them were here for the festivities and got roped into the morning meeting.  The fifth was a local Shay that was attempting to prove his worth to the new Bren'in.  It was quite some time before Ciniod graced you all with his presence (strolling in with much swagger and pomp) but thankfully you were entertained and had almost forgotten why you were there in the first place.  Taking a seat on the Bren'ins' chair (the 'throne' is actually a large oak tree stump/root that naturally formed into a large chair) Ciniod eyes you all heavily.

"Alright...let's be honest, it was a long, looong night.  Can you all please remind me who you are again and why I asked you to be here?"

In reply to Heart of the Mountain (msg # 75):

Naturally, Travis was somewhere unobtrusively over-watching the scene while dealing with some kind of choir as the Bren'en had arrived and asked for a second introduction.

Erbin stepped forward and with a slight nod to Ruairidh spoke first, "Good morning Bren'in, Erbin Shay, we spoke briefly yesterday about the need for yeast."

Ciniod seems to spark a little at the mention of the yeast, like someone had kicked his chair suddenly.

"Oh yes, yes, of course, now that is the whole reason you're all here this fine morning.  Big ceremony coming up and we need a special wine brewed before that time gets here.  Our yeast supplies are pretty much gone so we need to make a run into town and get us some more.  I suppose anything else we see is fair game as well...just remember to avoid the fire (guns).  We don't touch them things and they don't come chasin' us, clear?"

"Yeast?  Making a run for yeast?"  She snorted.  "Gotta have the wine, I suppose.  I'm game for a raid, no matter what.  It's the 'anything else' bit that interests me." Knife in hand, she gave it a little spin.

In reply to Maeryn Farrell (msg # 79):

As usual, for any who bothered to look, Travis could be seen with a frown as he overlooked all who gathered in his normal watchful way.

Ciniod seemed slightly perturbed by Maeryns' not taking the matter as serious as he had hoped.

"We have ways of making our own yeast but it is of poor quality.  It's perhaps the only item that we need those damn outsiders for!", he hisses with disdain dripping from his voice.  He takes a moment to calm himself before continuing...

"Yes, anything else.  We usually hit one of those big food stores that has all types of stuff other than food.  Water, booze, food, clothing, knives...they got it all down there and it's all in one convenient place."  He belts out a hearty laugh and is promptly joined by his cronies.

While most had not noticed, one of the elders had entered the building not too far behind Ciniod.  He rolled his eyes skyward and pursed his lips as the Bren'in spoke.
"Your father would not have approved of this!"  The man turned and stormed from the hall.

Recognizing the voice, Ciniod sighed and waited as the old man stormed off before turning around to look.

"And he's not in charge anymore, is he?", he yelled.

Kyla gaped when the Elder and the new Bren'in had words. She quickly looked down and pretended she hadn't seen or heard anything, rather than to disrespectfully catch Ciniod's eyes.

She wondered why they couldn't just send someone to go buy the yeast. They could trade some of their furs and beautiful carvings for the outsiders' money and go buy it. It seemed like the most peaceable thing to do. But she didn't say anything, just kept her thoughts to herself.

In reply to Kyla Shay (msg # 82):

Having either gotten fed up or having decided this wasn't worth his time anymore, either way Travis moves from his spot in the wall with a gentle thrust of his back and he quietly announces "I'll prep" as his quiet step exits him out of the building.

The sun seemed angry now, its heat beating on his shoulders and neck. He felt like the ground growled at him as it crunched beneath his feet. He couldn't help but feel like these things were true whether they were or not, he felt like the mountain was demanding to be heard and though he felt like its voice called for calm he chose to ignore his own musings and for the sake of coping he ignored his own instincts over the matter.

They had means to grow better yeast, he knew this, there was other ways to make fermented drinks as well... One time a one of his cousins had gotten drunk off of there aunts chai. Another time his same cousin and there brother found drank the juice of Travis's mushrooms Flooded and fermented by the rains on dares.

However, if they where going to go then he would at least try to make sure there wasnt any issues while they where at it. In turn he just hoped none of them did anything really stupid.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:08, Sun 11 June 2017.

Erbin waited for the Bren'in to regain his composure "How much Brewers Yeast is needed? I am sure the place has some but on the off chance the don't have enough. We can be on the look out for any other place that may have a supply."

Erbin was taking an even deeper dislike to the new Bren'in, but it was to late now to refuse. "When would you like the raid to commence and will any of your men be joining us?" as Erbin looked at each of the Bren'ins cronies in turn.

"Well they've never let us down before but I suppose you have a point."  He pauses, contemplating Erbins' question.  Clearly he was not expecting such an idea.

"There's one of them grain stores out near the edge of town.  I know we've hit them before in years past.  I suppose if we need to we can always head there."

Downing what's left in his cup he stands up, stretching to his full height...

"Alright...we better get ourselves ready.  Gonna be a busy day."

Kyla knew she wouldn't be going with the raid. That wasn't what she was good at. She was skilled at farming, foraging and hunting small animals. She decided to do some foraging in the woods while the others were gone. Maybe do some fishing or light hunting. The others of her clan would come back to a fine feast!

Apparently satisfied with their Bren'in's answers, Maeryn slid her knife back into the sheath at her hip and headed for the door.  She gestured for Kyla to join her as she neared.  "Hey, Kyla!  Could use your help.  Think you can help me scrounge up vittles for the road?  Always like to be prepared in case we get caught out for a few days."

Before Kyla left on her hike...

Kyla smiled shyly at Maeryn. The other woman always seemed so sure of herself, so confident in her abilities. The pregnant widow wished she could be so out-going. But she wasn't. She was shy and that's just the way it was. But she did have confidence in her abilities, she'd just never be the first one to say so.

"Yes! I would like to help you!" she said, happy Maeryn had asked. "Will you want jerky and pemmican? Or will you be stopping to cook any?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:06, Tue 13 June 2017.

"Meet me over by the motors, not hard to find, just listen.  Get what you need, we'll have the rest there.  I'll explain more once we get going."

Ciniod disappears from the building with his cronies at his heels.  Several of the other men mumble and murmur amongst themselves.  From what you can hear, it was directed primarily at Ciniod and laced with expletives.

In reply to Ciniod O'Farrell (msg # 89):

Travis would already be at the ATV's, Checking them over in fact, using a wrench that he had not be previously openly carrying to check the tightness of bolts as well as cablings, tubes, and tires.

"Nothing that need be cooked," she answered Kyla.  "I can't cook worth a lick and I don't trust any of them to, either."  She gestured with her thumb at the retreating Bren'in and his groupies.  "Hope we won't be gone long, but better if we take stuff that won't spoil.  Got stuff in mind?"

Kyla nodded again, more thoughtfully this time. "Yes. There is a powerful lot of meat in the Farrell's smokehouse. I saw it yesterday when I went with my Ma to get a bit of ham to fry. I'm thinking smoked bacon and ham with bread. It won't be fancy but it'll be filling. All the clans can give what bread they've got baked. We can bake more, you can't. How many are going?"

Maeryn shrugged. "A couple of handfuls, I'd reckon.  Maybe a dozen or so.  Won't need more than something to tide us over.  Just the basics, I'd say."

Kyla nodded her understanding. "Sandwiches are pretty basic. Let's go to the smokehouse first and get a chunk of ham and some backstrap. I can take it to my...my mother and the women can fryte meat whilst I ask the others for bread." With that settled, she waddled toward the smokehouse. She'd almost said "my clan" but had rescued herself in time. Gods, how she missed Innis!

OOC: Just to double check, for the raid I have going:
  Erbin Shay
  Travis Hunter
  Maeryn Farrell
  Ruaridh McEntyre-Farrell

Anyone I missed?

Erbin quietly made his way toward the motors, thinking about the coming raid. Seemed like a silly reason for a raid, just to get some yeast. Erbin suspected it was just a reason for the new Brenin to flex his muscles. "Kyla? Is there anything you may need from the valley?"

OOC: Affirmative for Erbin.

Kyla stopped, touched that Erbin had asked. It gave her a warm feeling of acceptance just as she'd gotten when Maeryn asked her to help round up food. Perhaps she would be able to fit into her new clan, after all. "Thank you so much for asking, Erbin. You know, my Papa gave me a butterscotch candy once when I was a little girl. I haven't had one in years but I've had the awfulest craving for one lately. I'd love some, if you run across any. And I'd like a new fry pan. Mine is a hand me down and very old. I'll cook you a good meal in it!" That last was an impulsive offer but she meant it. And she was a good cook.

"Baby stuff," Maeryn added.  "Ain't got a lot of it laying around.  Always could use some new baby stuff."  As they walked toward the smokehouse, she threw a sidelong glance at Kyla, eyes dropping to her stomach.  Maeryn liked the littles, like playing with them and teaching them, but she couldn't imagine herself as a mother.  Curiously, she felt protective of Kyla and the unborn child in her belly.  Perhaps because new blood in the clan was a cause for celebration.

Kyla flushed a bit with the prospect of new baby things. "Yes, anything baby can be used by someone."

When they reached the smokehouse,and entered, Kyla breathed in deeply. This was a smell she always loved. She remembered tagging after the men whenever they smoked meat in her old clan. This was a bigger building where they prepared meat as well as smoked it. "When the Farrells do something, they do it in a big way, don't they?" she asked Maeryn and Erbin.

Sliding quietly from the great hall, Travis made his way around until he found an area of scorched, barren earth.  The grass and greenery had been beaten into submission by countless hours of being driven over.  It was somewhat reminiscent of a demolition derby stadium complete with stocked garage and track.  Once he felt that everything was secure and in place, he quietly returned to the compound just before Ciniod began to make his way down.  Passing Travis by, he made no acknowledgement of him and continued on his way.  Seeing this as a sign, Travis calmly walked off in the other direction.

"We're not a terribly big clan, as you know, but we like to do things right.  Celebrations are always enjoyable, 'cept for the angry drunks."  Maeryn grinned.  "Usually a fist-fight or two for good measure."

She cocked her head at the woman.  "Different than what you grew up in, hmm?  Big change when you married in?"

"Oh, y-yes, big change. Donahue is a very small clan . There are stories about us...them...being much bigger in the Old Country." Her father had a dream to build up Donahue's numbers but that meant making lots of babies, mostly sons.

"Innis made it not so scary. Now, I'm scared." Kyla ran a hand over her belly, being as it was the main cause of her being scared these days.

"No need to be scared.  You're carrying a Shay baby and every Shay and Farrell in our clan would kill to keep you both safe."  She picked up a few thin slabs of venison jerky and wrapped it in cloth for the trip.  "More than likely, you'll catch the eye of another man before too long.  You're still young and pretty and capable of having babies."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:05, Wed 21 June 2017.

Kyla blushed a deep shade of pink that clashed with the red highlights in her hair. "Oh, well...I don't think I...not really pretty..."

Maeryn's words confused and flustered the young widow. Innis had made her feel pretty when she'd always known she was just plain. The way he'd looked at her, the things he'd said when he held her close... Kyla's eyes welled up and she dashed her hand across them. She knew she'd have to marry again and bear children for the life of the clan. She knew...but...her heart still belonged to a blue-eyed Shay.

Maeryn snorted.  "It's always the pretty ones that don't know they're pretty."  She threw the other girl a sidelong glance, lips twitching with amusement.  She cut off a slab of cured meat and wrapped it up.  "Just ignore me.  I'm too blunt.  Everyone says.  Probably why I never snagged me a Shay.  Too wild.  Wild ones aren't for marrying."

Now it was Kyla's turn to look askance at the other woman. She tilted her head and examined Maeryn. "No, you just have to find someone as wild as you are. Or maybe someone to ground you. That's what Papa says my mama did for him."She piled the wrapped selections in her carrying basket. "Besides you're pretty. And interesting."

Maeryn snorted and absently rubbed her tattooed chin.  "Pa tried that with my Ma and things didn't turn out so well.  She left just after I was born.  Too wild to keep tied.  Don't know how she stayed in-clan as long as she did.  Pa jokes that she was a woodland spirit that had misplaced her animal skin.  I guess she found it and is out there running free."

She stuffed her own gatherings, the ones that didn't require cooking, into her satchel.  "You thought about names for the little one yet?  Did the old wives tell you it was a girl or a boy?  I think they're only right half the time, but it doesn't stop them from guessing."

Kyla grinned. "No, Innis wanted it to be a surprise and after he...died...I stayed with that. For him, you know." She rubbed her hands over her big belly affectionately. "I'll be happy with either one. Though the way I look, it could be both!"Twins didn't run in her family but she knew the gods could do whatever they pleased.

Maeryn laughed.  "Twins?  That would be something, hmm?  Double the mouths to feed, but double the blessing, too.  No names, though?  Could pick one for boys and girls, just in case."

Kyla sighed and nodded as they packed up the chosen food and left the fancy smokehouse. "I prolly should. The birth's been so far away all these months. And they's been such hard months, y'know? Now it's here and I don't think I'm ready." She patted her belly again and tried not to let her shoulders bow from the weight of all her troubles. Missing Innis, knowing he wouldn't be present for the birth, having to raise her baby all alone, do everything alone. Sometimes it was just too much.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Fri 07 July 2017.

"You'll be ready," Maeryn assured her.  "I think mothering just happens when the baby is born.  You just know what to do."  She slung her back over her shoulder.  "Could always ask your Ma to come and stay for a bit until the baby is born.  Innis family been much help?"

The young widow perked up. "Oh! I guess I could! Mama would be right tickled to see her grandbaby born!" On the topic of Innis' family, though, she was more subdued. "His Ma never did like me none. There's been some things said about me being bad luck. His Ma even told me once that she'd take the baby to raise and I could go back to Clan Donahue." It was obvious that those words had hurt her.

"Piss and vinegar, that's all that is," Maeryn insisted.  "Bad luck?  Pffffft.  Ain't never seen such a thing as bad luck, nor good luck.  Things happen as they happen.  Luck ain't got naught to do with it.  What happened to Innis ain't no fault of yourn.  It'd probably have happened just the same, whether you were married to him or not, and then there wouldn't even be a baby to carry on his memory.  She should be thankful you were 'round at all."

"Babies need their Ma.  Proper Ma.  Pa told me that mine weren't never the proper sort.  S'why I grew up all crazy like."  She threw Kyla a mad grin.  "He was all I had, and I love 'em even though he was a hard man to love.  Still, I'd have liked to have had a Ma that loved me enough to stick around."

"If they don't make you welcome, and you don't want to stay with 'em, you could always move in with me.  Got no family to worry over -- just the clan.  Would be nice to have a bit of company now and again."

Kyla brightened to know she had an option. The tiny shack she and Innis had lived in was, well, tiny. And it was drafty and had a few other problems. Innis had been going to fix it up and add on rooms as they needed. While they were together, she hadn't minded the problems because it had been part of the adventure. Something she could tell their children and grandbabies. A "when we were young and starting out..." story.

But things were different when you were alone and cold because there was a crack in the wall next to the bed and you were too round and unskilled to fix it.

"That's right nice of you, Maeryn! And even if I don't get to move in with you, you can come over and visit me anytime. After the baby's visit ready, I'll bring him over to see you." Yes, things seemed much brighter at the prospect of having someone to exchange visits with.

Two weeks. It should not have taken two weeks. Kyla cursed inwardly as she tried to shift the weight of her burden to her other shoulder. She led Storm, a mule she had barrowed when she left, back to the stall in the shop’s yard. As she walked she noticed eyes cast down and barley a murmur was heard. The people about here seemed haunted by an unseen shadow. Shaking it off, Kyla unloaded her burden in the building she had turned into her work shop and living quarters. After three more trips, the mule was unburdened and eating. Deciding to leave the packs inside, Kyla ventured back into the heart of town to see who might offer some insight and possibly find a warm meal. Eventually she would seek out one of the men who owned the mule. She hated the idea of returning the creature- having become attached to him over their journey. Despite being able to barrow him any time he wished- Kyla would have preferred to own him herself. The two week venture had not provided her the funds she needed to buy the creature.

The thought of the new Bren’Lin crossed her mind as she walked toward the one building that would provide answers without her even having to ask. Ferrell wine would surely be flowing and lips would be loose if the celebration was still continuing. If luck were on her side Fletcher would be there. At the thought of seeing him- she put away the gloom that hung in the air.

The great hall was by far the easiest structure to find.  Most any time of day or night there were folks coming and going in various states of inebriation.  The party, however, seemed to most certainly have died.  There was a palpable air of nervousness and unease that seemed to permeate everything.  Eyes no longer cast a loving embrace but a scared sort of hollowness. Even the friendly smiles and calls of "Cousin!" you'd become used to seemed to fade into the background.

Kyla looked about the great hall and was shocked by the somber air. An unspoken tension seemed to be hanging above each person she passed and the more she looked for cheer the more darkness she found. She tried hard to rack her brain for some logic to the looming dread. The last time she had seen this much tension she had been but a child. None of it felt right.

Shaking aside the feeling she looked around in hopes of spotting the man nicknamed Fletcher. She was sure he was a Shay- but he never said. Only call ever having called the man by Fletcher she relied on his work. The man owed her arrows and a hot meal if luck was on her side. She had wasted too many chasing the pelts she needed to fill the orders that awaited her.

Kyla continued to scan the room looking for him. Maybe he would even give her a clue as to why the mountain was darkened by an unseen cloud. For not even the whispers that did pass her ears gave an inkling off worthy gossip. She felt blind to the threat- and that scared her.

I have no problem with throwing in an NPC for you, just need a little info on what you had in mind for him.

In one of the back corners, your eyes finally catch sight of the man you were looking for.  Looking rather haggard (or full to the gills with wine) he seemed engaged in a conversation with several others.

A smile curled on Kyla’s lips as she spotted the man. Wasting no time, she approached his company. Had she ever seen him without someone by his side. He seemed to attract people and had no enemies. He was likely the one person who could cheer up the morgue that the town had become. Yet even if he was in a serious mood, people still stopped to hear what he had to say. She never had figured how a man not much older than her had the wisdom of the elders. She had no doubt he would one day sit among their ranks.  Kyla grabbed a cup from off the table and poured herself whatever concoction out of the bottle from in front of Fletcher. She pushed a stray hair back and smiled at him. “Fletcher,” she nodded as she sat down near him to listen in on what might be said.

The man smiles warmly upon seeing you and cheerfully introduces you to the rest of the table.  He was indeed quite sauced but as he returned to the conversation at hand, it would seem he was also rather agitated.  While no one mentioned any names directly, it would seem there was some sort of incident that took place early involving several lostys from the town...and it did not sound good.

Kyla listened to the tale hiding her fear deep inside. The last Towny she had seen had been years ago and she preferred to act as if they were worlds away. She avoided raids and all talk of them. Her business had nothing to do with the townies or any of their modern conveniences. Oil for her lamps and equipment was the only thing she ever found herself in need of. Even that she bought from a local who never told her how he obtained it. She understood the new sense of fear despite the joy the village should have been feeling. The elders would know what to do- they had always been good at mending the problems of others. Fletcher was kind in not mentioning names of those involved- though Kyla was certain he knew who had been in the center of this trial. It’s better not knowing. She told herself as she listened and watched the people around. The only thing she was certain of was this was only the beginning.

The small group gathered at the table seemed rather engrossed in their current conversation.  There were a few light hearted moments where the occasional jest or barb was thrown around, but everything seemed to revolve around the most recent events.  Listening further, you come to find that a murder had taken place, carried out by none other than the newly crowned Bren'in!  Without questioning further, the details were discussed but no one at the table seemed pleased with the occurrence.  The talk often steered towards concepts of war and revenge from the town below, and a few older, salter gentlemen made vague references to a previous engagement of the same caliber, with ominous and dreadful results.