Kith and Kin

Well, the week end started off full of promise, as I arrived with my charming companion, but we were immediately put on edge by the lack of a guard presence at the circle which welcomed us to Orkneyja. As we joined the early arrivals, hovering around the hall, we learned that the McFooks seemed to be few and far between. The walls of the hall were caked in the blood of clansmen, and several – including Marcus McFook – had been captured by an unknown foe to be sacrificed in some dread ritual. Her Majesty the Morrigan joined us with a righteous fury, having arrived without her ever-vigilant bodyguard, assailed by foolish creatures as she left the circle.

We were attacked by groups of creatures, seemingly driven mad with bloodlust and anger, though fortunately without more than feral instincts to guide their attack. These attacks were swiftly dealt with by small but dedicated groups of clansfolk. Columns of unarmed zombies wandered through unrelenting, bearing tartan of an unfamiliar hue – the McKye’s we later learned. Then the real attack hit us, foes appearing from every shadow, bursting into the hall and assailing our defences.

They were lead by a creature of shadow that it seemed we could not touch, though the bravery of her Majesty the Blodwyn’s bodyguard and that of others surely saved us that night. I remember taking stock, only to see less than half a dozen of my fellows remaining on their feet, my Queen lying amongst the fallen to tend to their wounds. Many of our healers were also taken down, yet somehow the compassion of the Blodwyn saw us through.

We soon discovered the name of our nemesis, as it sent us Incantors into fits and pangs of agony at its very mention. Not long after, as the place rocked with unnatural tremors and shakes, we found our very link to those that watched over us had been temporarily – thank the All-mother – severed. By morning, the healers were to loose their link to the Plain of Life too. These events did not bode well for the morrow’s expedition into the surrounding lands.

Yet come the morn, away we did venture, having been visited by the Clan McKye – dependents, it seems, upon the absent McFooks and suffering terribly through deprivation and disaster. Their blood had also been spilt, and we begun our search for clues – looking for some hidden temple of which we had heard. Stan MacTrew diligently translated any documents we found, including a diary from a doomed expedition of McKyes – perhaps the walking dead we had encountered before.

The air was wrought with tension, and many tempers flared through the trials of that day – the McKyes distrusting our intent to aid them, and cursing those who had ignored them; and us relenting that their messages had never reached us, and why we knew so little of what had passed. Again it was the compassion of the Blodwyn, and the passionate and selfless work of the chief of the McYokels, that saved the day. And to ease the tensions and reassert union, a marriage was arranged and a cheerful sailor named Filthy McNasty was joined with the chieftain of the McKye’s daughter.

Alas, not all was happy, for during our struggles through the surrounding woodlands against numerous feral and unnatural foes – as well as clansmen clad in more strange tartans – a being of immense power and fury tore apart brave Ox McFook, even as the surrounding clansmen smashed it apart. Her Majesty was on the scene instantly, but the fallen warrior was beyond all aid… I dread to think what damage the beast could have inflicted if Ox had not managed to stall its assault.

Eventually we were able to make our way to where the bloody ritual was being undertaken, me thinks to raise some mighty unliving being or other unnatural terror. We boldly assailed their defences, fighting up rise after rise to close with the enemy. And eventually we were able to drop their leaders and halt the ritual. And then the magics of our own mages were able to destroy their work, and we rescued the lost McFooks – and the All-mother blessed them as we called to her aspects and freed them from the taint of the enemy.

The evening was spent, uninterrupted, in feasting, and drinking, and many a song, and an enjoyable night was indeed had by all – melting the tensions of the previous night. We toasted to the memory of the valorous departed, and joined in celebration of the wedding that night. An envoy from the Jackals joined us in our merriment. And in the morning, fell deeds and heroics too awaited us all. But fortunately, we were smiled upon and our deeds the day before returned unto us the grace of our ancestors and the power of healing.

At first we stood alongside a graveyard, fending off the attacks of the evil one’s minions – for we discovered he had duped a large number of Clan McKye into following his will against our Queens – named the Clan McCrae. A mighty satyr from Strathbraan joined us that day, wading through the foes, dealing death and not flinching from the blows of his enemies. His presence alone was worth many good and loyal Caledonian clansmen. The enemy seemed intent upon destroying the gravestones in the cemetery where we stood – and so we did our utmost to defend them.

An expedition was sent forth to try and track their leader to his home and utterly destroy him, but ran into failure – and so we returned, less they used their whole number against a smaller force of our own. Eventually we were triumphant, and able to capture and deal with the ringleader… shortly after we returned to the hall, the head of the McCraes appeared under a white flag to make his peace with their Majesties and to offer his head for the crimes of his people.

We suffered many hard and terrible blows, and yet united we stood and triumphed against all odds. I truly believe the Morrigan was with us all on these two days, and it is no small testimony to us all that only one Caledonian fell. Her Strength guided us, Her Compassion steered us through, and Her Wisdom watched our every plight.

 

All Works are © Original Author

(OC Author - Paul Martin)