( Everyone feel free to take a Short Rest with the associated Hit Die and you can be back on the road soon after lunch. )
Ori finds the longer he is in contact with the belt the less it hurts his eyes to look at it and the rest of the companions soon feel the same 'adjustment' indeed as Ori looks at the belt hanging over his shoulder after lunch he is almost certain it is somewhat altered in size and appearance to suit him better...
Taking a breather and trying not to think about his side much, he finds focusing on the belt a good distraction. Not quite sure what to make of the item, he has it over his shoulder (like a big champion belt place on the shoulder in boxing or wrestling) he could put one hand on it to remind him not to move that arm. Though those berries, which were super filling one could have lasted him most of the day, were doing their magic and he was felling better, and the bruising seemed to get better I stead of worse (how many did Ori take? He would have insisted everyone have one for the days nourishment but can take whatever others don't). Ori keeps readjusting the belt as it keeps slipping down, until it dawned on him the belt is getting bigger and not slipping. It looked a bit small for him before but now it might stand a chance if Ori sucked his gut in.
Trying to get a sense of this belt as he has it over his shoulder, getting a better look at now, Ori had used it as a focus to ignore the pain that he found he wasn't scared of it. Most magic gives Ori pause as he liked to trust what he understood, muscles and skill, and magic wasn't in that short list of things. Before packing up to head off, Ori desides his side is feeling better but continues to carry the belt like the trophy over his shoulder. "Alright all, time to find Almeric. Cainneach and Thatch, lead the way and scout ahead, Vardi can guard the rear, Aye? Let's be off."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As Cainneach sits with the party after collecting any arrows that were covered in the foul ichor of the fallen giant, he recalls a long ago tale of those Fomorians and relays what he can of it to Ori. "That belt, it bears some resemblance to one I heard of in a tale from when I was a wee lad, before being driven from my home. There was a god of those giants, Neit, a wager of wars, who bestowed something like what you hold to a brave border clan. I don't recall what it might have been able to do, but it does look good on you like that, big man! It's a powerful trophy for the beating you gave and took in that battle."
(As for the berries, Cainneach -- and Thatch and Famh? -- were undamaged, and I believe Vardi recovered most of her HP via Second Wind, so you should be able to take the lion's share of the 10. Cainneach is content to eat his rations so that you might recover better.)
The forester's eyes never drift from his lovely sorceress for too long and he certainly enjoys watching her ponder and muse, the clouds seeming to open and close about the sun with the meanderings of her thoughts. When she finally looks his way, catching his admiring and bemused look, he smiles brightly at her, though not as bright as the gleam in her beautiful eyes. Salt yawns and stretches between the two, having had his fill from their lunches.
"You're right, Ori, best be getting back on the road. Hopefully we can make our way before the sun falls again." He joins Thatch, with Salt padding along besides.
Vardi keeps a polite smile on her face over her confusion and does as she is bid by the more senior members of the troop. She puts down pack and basket, sits down to check the contents of both after the fight, and silently occupies herself in making sure that Skoggi gets fed.
The Lyften lass sometimes looks to Fingal's still body, or towards Ori eating lunch at quiet moments, but seems satisfied that neither giant nor man are a matter for her to worry about, and concentrates on eating her meal, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Vardi looks to see if either of her arrows survived contact with the enemy, and gathers back her arrowheads even if the shafts are broken. After a long moment of thought, she plucks a bedraggled but still inky black quill from the ground and mutters to herself "Winter's nails and teeth, wha' manner o'giant has feathers?! Nae heard 'tha like afore. Sure something like tha' would ha stuck out from tha crowd..."
"More mainlander strangeness."she concludes and sadly turns away from what she cannot comprehend as being worthy of being named a giant for all their vast and mighty form would argue otherwise.
She offers no comment when Cainneach speaks of such giants, or Fomorians, as he names them to Ori, but listens respectfully.
Despite her doubts and troubling thoughts, Vardi replies "Aye Sarge." and falls in at the end of the line, watching behind the troop for trouble.
The companions gather themselves and make good time heading back towards the broch arriving late in the evening but not too late for supper by the scents on the wind.
The two Morrigan lads were settling down for the night in an outbuilding and raised a hand in greeting once the recognised the figures in the intermittent moonlight.
Máel and Rory were in the kitchen ladling porridge and berries into bowls and Sir Almeric, Fingal and Logie were conversing at the table, all looked up as they heard Salt bark in greeting.
Rory headed out and held the door open, " Get in and get something warm in ye."
Almeric regarded them with interest, then seemingly satisfied gave a satisfied smile.
" Indeed, tell us of your meeting and...", noting certain tell-tale signs, ".....perhaps more."
Ori figures he should be the one to report, but then he remembers the confusion he had trying to understand everything that went on down that narrow hole, "Sir's I'll let Cainneach here explain our meeting as he was our lead, and my lad Thatch will explain why we believe there should be less problems to be had around these hills, as it was one of he's arrows that did the trick." Ori would explain how the team did after when speaking to Almeric alone, expecally of the young Vardi and how she proved herself as useful and capable as any.
Vardi keeps a polite smile on her face over her confusion and does as she is bid by the more senior members of the troop. She puts down pack and basket, sits down to check the contents of both after the fight, and silently occupies herself in making sure that Skoggi gets fed.
The Lyften lass sometimes looks to Fingal's still body, or towards Ori eating lunch at quiet moments, but seems satisfied that neither giant nor man are a matter for her to worry about, and concentrates on eating her meal, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Vardi looks to see if either of her arrows survived contact with the enemy, and gathers back her arrowheads even if the shafts are broken. After a long moment of thought, she plucks a bedraggled but still inky black quill from the ground and mutters to herself "Winter's nails and teeth, wha' manner o'giant has feathers?! Nae heard 'tha like afore. Sure something like tha' would ha stuck out from tha crowd..."
"More mainlander strangeness."she concludes and sadly turns away from what she cannot comprehend as being worthy of being named a giant for all their vast and mighty form would argue otherwise.
She offers no comment when Cainneach speaks of such giants, or Fomorians, as he names them to Ori, but listens respectfully.
Despite her doubts and troubling thoughts, Vardi replies "Aye Sarge." and falls in at the end of the line, watching behind the troop for trouble.
(OOC: Perception total of 12.)
"Aye, Vardi, but thon's tae yer benefit, 'twill make yer tale stand oot from the common public-house herd as that o' a lady wha's bestit summat unique.," Famh grins. "And ye needna fear the backbitin o' companions i' the braggin' after. Ori's the other ane coud claim the lion's share o' glory, an ye both shine sae much better singin o' hou valiantly ye stood an foucht together; an hou ye sacrificit yerself tae tak the flail blow thon were aimit for his heid and wad ha made an eend o' him altogether." The look she accompanies these words with is perfect for its transparancy; any shade or undercurrent of meaning that Vardi cares to imagine could as easily be there as not.
Famh is unusually quiet and thoughtful on the trip back to Rory Mor’s broch. Her nights are filled with hideous dreams of not only Fionnuala and her Cainneach, but all her dear friends of the Dayne retinue, caught under one of the terrible blows of the fachan’s deadly flail … and as to whence he drew it … @#$!@!?!
And her days she spends contemplating the varied merits of the heroes she travels with: ... far more evenhandedly than one might at first expect, actually ;-3. She is quite sincere in saying she has always dreamed of being one of the feywise and yet respected class of scholars known as filidhs; and it is one of the very roots of their art to know all that pertains to the retinue of their patron lord even if they aren’t happily betrothed to its forester.
She waits until Thatch and Cainneach have reported and Ori finished his summary to Sir Almeric of the retinue’s dealings with the Cailleach and their victory against Fingal MacTethra. Then she respectfully clears her throat. “Your sergeant deserves e'en more praise for his humility than for his selfless valor, Sir. An sae daes Vardi. We shouldna be standin' before ye whole tae report aucht without their having kept the fachan’s attention and borne the most o' his rage. And Vardi flung herself intae the fray as thouch she were a jotun herself, tryin’ tae seizeFingal’s horrible flail an then usin’ the force o the blow whan he struck her tae send her hammer forward wi’ the more power sae she staggerit the filthy braggart at the same moment Thatch fired. We niver shoud ha’ fellit the beast wi’oiut Thatch an ma Cainneach’s archery, and perhaps a few stanes I saluted his ears wi'.
I’ve left oot the deeds o'Salt and Skuggavardi, but as a man wha like tae have belovit hounds yersel’ I think ye’ll sympathize wi’ Cainneach and Vardifor orderin’ em’ oot o’ the fray. Which aifter they took the ane sniff they were mair than happy tae dae, an I sympathizit wi’ thaim in that. The stench o’ thon beast’s lair wis past aw description.”
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
(Quick revision to previous ... Cainneach would have used his Tree Token to raise an oak tree near the entrance to the Fachan's cave prior to their departure.)
The forester is slightly taken aback by Ori's decision to permit him to provide the report on their meetin with the winter woman, the Cailleach. Had it been at the start of their journey together, he would have been very uncomfortable at such a request, and perhaps fumbled his words. Fortunately, time has passed along with incredible experiences that have bolstered his confidence.
"She was remarkable, sers, the Cailleach. To me, she was an exceedingly ancient and withered woman, but still wtih an aura of power and wisdom. While to me she appeared thusly, to Famh and Thatch she had a completely different visage, a monstrous one and apparently meaning to do me terrible harm. But 'twas not so, she gave us gifts and encouragement to slay the Fachan, labelling it an abomination. While I had her favour in this encounter, I'm not sure things would pass in the same manner in the next. We have carried out her will in destroying the Fachan, hopefully our goals will align if we cross paths again. A truly strange and inscrutable figure."
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Vardi keeps a polite smile on her face over her confusion and does as she is bid by the more senior members of the troop. She puts down pack and basket, sits down to check the contents of both after the fight, and silently occupies herself in making sure that Skoggi gets fed.
The Lyften lass sometimes looks to Fingal's still body, or towards Ori eating lunch at quiet moments, but seems satisfied that neither giant nor man are a matter for her to worry about, and concentrates on eating her meal, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Vardi looks to see if either of her arrows survived contact with the enemy, and gathers back her arrowheads even if the shafts are broken. After a long moment of thought, she plucks a bedraggled but still inky black quill from the ground and mutters to herself "Winter's nails and teeth, wha' manner o'giant has feathers?! Nae heard 'tha like afore. Sure something like tha' would ha stuck out from tha crowd..."
"More mainlander strangeness."she concludes and sadly turns away from what she cannot comprehend as being worthy of being named a giant for all their vast and mighty form would argue otherwise.
She offers no comment when Cainneach speaks of such giants, or Fomorians, as he names them to Ori, but listens respectfully.
Despite her doubts and troubling thoughts, Vardi replies "Aye Sarge." and falls in at the end of the line, watching behind the troop for trouble.
(OOC: Perception total of 12.)
"Aye, Vardi, but thon's tae yer benefit, 'twill make yer tale stand oot from the common public-house herd as that o' a lady wha's bestit summat unique.," Famh grins. "And ye needna fear the backbitin o' companions i' the braggin' after. Ori's the other ane coud claim the lion's share o' glory, an ye both shine sae much better singin o' hou valiantly ye stood an foucht together; an hou ye sacrificit yerself tae tak the flail blow thon were aimit for his heid and wad ha made an eend o' him altogether." The look she accompanies these words with is perfect for its transparancy; any shade or undercurrent of meaning that Vardi cares to imagine could as easily be there as not.
Vardi thinks this over for a long moment, her expression uncertain, but still willing to give the benefit of the doubt to Famh's greater experience, she earnestly replies in a whisper.
"Thank ye fra tha kind thought. I nae seem ta have yer knack of makin' sense of all this." then looks sombrely down at Fingal as she adds "If tha lady who sent us here reckoned tha one a wee one..." in fearful wonder.
The Lyften lass shudders, colder at that thought than any winter could chill. In a respectful if somewhat shaken tone she offers "I thought I knew much of giants and their ways. I was mistaken. I will listen harder ta wha' ye say of such matters fra now on, even if it pains me ta admit that lack on my part." by way of apology, then lapses back into silence.
Thatch alternated between surprise and embarrassment as Ori and the others called on him to tell the story of the fight with the Fachan. “Twas nothing, to be honest, sers. A lucky shot. Ori and Vardi grappled directly with the beast, striking and taking fearful blows. Cainneach fired just as many arrows as I, could easily have been one of his that did the trick. And Famh appeared and disappeared around the hillside raining enchantments down on the giant. I just tried to do my part.” He looks away, red-faced as they others continue to talk, breaking in as Cainneach tells the story of meeting the lady of the moors. “Tis true, I don’t know what Cainneach or the others saw, but I was faced with a fearsome giantess that looked ready to eat him.”
As the others finish their tales, Thatch carefully takes the clan pins they found in the crevice and lays them on the table in front of Rory “We were able to recover these from the Fachan’s lair, we are hopeful you can help return them to the clans. For peace of mind at least, I hope.”
Pri half sighs and half chuckles at the recounts at what had happened. Between himself not fully understanding Cailleach and the stupid style of fighting the Fachan he had done, well Ori didn't really feel as though he was in any position to talk for the accomplishments of the rest of them. He had spent most of the fight getting his head caved in and missed how the others were handling business. He wasn't sure if the arrow truly was the final blow but it was the last thing that had happened before the great beast fell. But leave it to Fahm to come through as the groups verbal scribe. Or so he thought, Ori found Fahm accent getting thicker and thicker the longer they stayed. Ori felt like he was getting more accustomed to it however.
"Oi, as they say, a few hot tips and all that remains of the beast is a few bruises and one large carcass, aye?" (Ori is back at full hp between the berries and the short rest).
Looking around at those listening to thier tale, "So what did we miss?"
Assuming no specific attention to the belt: Ori is gonna try to figure it out including wearing it while back in whatever quarters they have for the night.
Ori figures he should be the one to report, but then he remembers the confusion he had trying to understand everything that went on down that narrow hole, "Sir's I'll let Cainneach here explain our meeting as he was our lead, and my lad Thatch will explain why we believe there should be less problems to be had around these hills, as it was one of he's arrows that did the trick." Ori would explain how the team did after when speaking to Almeric alone, expecally of the young Vardi and how she proved herself as useful and capable as any.
Almeric raises an eyebrow and indicates for those talking to go ahead once everyone has supper in front of them.
The Mor family listen with rapt attention and even the two Morrigan lads draw in to hear the tale.
She waits until Thatch and Cainneach have reported and Ori finished his summary to Sir Almeric of the retinue’s dealings with the Cailleach and their victory against Fingal MacTethra. Then she respectfully clears her throat. “Your sergeant deserves e'en more praise for his humility than for his selfless valor, Sir. An sae daes Vardi. We shouldna be standin' before ye whole tae report aucht without their having kept the fachan’s attention and borne the most o' his rage. And Vardi flung herself intae the fray as thouch she were a jotun herself, tryin’ tae seizeFingal’s horrible flail an then usin’ the force o the blow whan he struck her tae send her hammer forward wi’ the more power sae she staggerit the filthy braggart at the same moment Thatch fired. We niver shoud ha’ fellit the beast wi’oiut Thatch an ma Cainneach’s archery, and perhaps a few stanes I saluted his ears wi'.
I’ve left oot the deeds o'Salt and Skuggavardi, but as a man wha like tae have belovit hounds yersel’ I think ye’ll sympathize wi’ Cainneach and Vardifor orderin’ em’ oot o’ the fray. Which aifter they took the ane sniff they were mair than happy tae dae, an I sympathizit wi’ thaim in that. The stench o’ thon beast’s lair wis past aw description.”
(Quick revision to previous ... Cainneach would have used his Tree Token to raise an oak tree near the entrance to the Fachan's cave prior to their departure.)- Noted.
The forester is slightly taken aback by Ori's decision to permit him to provide the report on their meetin with the winter woman, the Cailleach. Had it been at the start of their journey together, he would have been very uncomfortable at such a request, and perhaps fumbled his words. Fortunately, time has passed along with incredible experiences that have bolstered his confidence.
"She was remarkable, sers, the Cailleach. To me, she was an exceedingly ancient and withered woman, but still wtih an aura of power and wisdom. While to me she appeared thusly, to Famh and Thatch she had a completely different visage, a monstrous one and apparently meaning to do me terrible harm. But 'twas not so, she gave us gifts and encouragement to slay the Fachan, labelling it an abomination. While I had her favour in this encounter, I'm not sure things would pass in the same manner in the next. We have carried out her will in destroying the Fachan, hopefully our goals will align if we cross paths again. A truly strange and inscrutable figure."
Thatch alternated between surprise and embarrassment as Ori and the others called on him to tell the story of the fight with the Fachan. “Twas nothing, to be honest, sers. A lucky shot. Ori and Vardi grappled directly with the beast, striking and taking fearful blows. Cainneach fired just as many arrows as I, could easily have been one of his that did the trick. And Famh appeared and disappeared around the hillside raining enchantments down on the giant. I just tried to do my part.” He looks away, red-faced as they others continue to talk, breaking in as Cainneach tells the story of meeting the lady of the moors. “Tis true, I don’t know what Cainneach or the others saw, but I was faced with a fearsome giantess that looked ready to eat him.”
As the others finish their tales, Thatch carefully takes the clan pins they found in the crevice and lays them on the table in front of Rory “We were able to recover these from the Fachan’s lair, we are hopeful you can help return them to the clans. For peace of mind at least, I hope.”
Sir Almeric looks very pleased with Thatch and Cainneachs reports and Famhs summary, " To say Well Done would be understating things markedly I think. Exceptional Work, One and All. A Credit to both Your House and Your Families."
" I've seen some strange things over the years, some of it recently in your company....but such a titan......it is bewildering is it not?"
Rory came forward and looked over the pins, " Clan Bor......Clan Gar? Thats Glissom across the Pagans....he's carried that a way....", his eyes went to Cainneach for a moment. " Clan Fileen.....Clan Morrigan..."
He looked across at the boys.
" Clan Glenneagal.....bastards been eating his way through the Pagans and on....ye mentioned a flail.....did ye be bringing it back wit ye? Things of Fomorian make are said to be strong in the old tales....."
Sir Almeric nodded and reached into his travelling coat throwing a velvet bag on the table, " Lets call it a bonus theres fifty gold there for each of ye courtesy of the Baron for representing him so well."
He stacked another twenty gold in from of the Mors, " For the imposition.....", he sucked on his cheek. " Aye.....call it a gift if ye wish.....we know you'd have us regardless."
"Get some rest, Ladies and Gentlemen. We head back to Marrowglen in the morn.......unless theres a reason to keep north?" His eyes rested for a moment on Famh and Cainneach.
Ori half sighs and half chuckles at the recounts at what had happened. Between himself not fully understanding Cailleach and the stupid style of fighting the Fachan he had done, well Ori didn't really feel as though he was in any position to talk for the accomplishments of the rest of them. He had spent most of the fight getting his head caved in and missed how the others were handling business. He wasn't sure if the arrow truly was the final blow but it was the last thing that had happened before the great beast fell. But leave it to Fahm to come through as the groups verbal scribe. Or so he thought, Ori found Fahm accent getting thicker and thicker the longer they stayed. Ori felt like he was getting more accustomed to it however.
"Oi, as they say, a few hot tips and all that remains of the beast is a few bruises and one large carcass, aye?" (Ori is back at full hp between the berries and the short rest).
Looking around at those listening to thier tale, "So what did we miss?"
Assuming no specific attention to the belt: Ori is gonna try to figure it out including wearing it while back in whatever quarters they have for the night.
" Not a thing.", Rory chuckled.
( If Vardi wishes to further discuss the differences between Jotun and Fomorian then the Mor Boys are keen to do so....though their tales will likely be fanciful at best.)
Vardi listens, glad not to be the ones explaining what occurred, offering only "Did wha I could ta keep up wi' everyone else in tha battle. Right glad I am tha' I was nae alone dancing wi' Fingal or I'd nae be here now ta say so."then sits down to eat, grateful for both the food and good company to enjoy it in.
The Joturn-kin tells a tale of no less than two giants of the Lyften Islands, Hermann the Dark and Saxa the Bright, warriors bold, both ill-fated in love and the reason for their bitter rivalry, the fair but cruel seamaid, the Finnwoman Gotha Foamdaugher...
Vardi relates "After spurning first Saxa an' favoring Hermann, then casting away Hermann fra Saxa's affections, a great fight broke out betwixt tha giants on tha shore, an a great many huge stones were hurled in tha' fray, still there ta be seen now, all over tha Isle 'o' Urnst."
"Yet fra all their fury, Gotha Foamdaughter eventually became tired of the quarrel, nae doubt constantly being in need o' getting out o'the path o'stray boulders, so drew her changin' shawl about her fine white shoulders and most gracefully leapt into the sea. The heartless seamaid laughed an challenged her would-be suitors ta a swimming race, out ta tha far cold lands of Everwinter, where tha white bears bigger than any trow hunt an a day sometimes lasts fra months."
"She offered her clawed yet dainty hand in fasting ta tha one who caught her, be they Saxa or be they Hermann. Gotha taunted Saxa over their slowness and Hermann over their lack of endurance, for Finnfolk are as at home in tha icy waters as any seal or shark, so try as they might, neither could catch her for cruel but clever Gotha knew well tha' nae even giants can fight tha sea forever."
"Some say Hermann an Saxa's great bones lie at tha bottom of tha sea far under tha ice. Others say Gotha devoured them at her leisure, cracked tha marrow fra their bones an swam off ta hunt again. For all anyone knows she is out there still, luring hapless fishermen ta her feasting hall far below in tha waters o'Burrafirth Voe..."
On mention of the Fomorian's flail, she leaves the table and returns with a heavy sack, that rattles and clanks like a knight in a gale wind as she deposits it gently on the floor. The Lyften lass warns "Nae had a chance ta give it a run-through in sand ta clean it off."
Vardi had dragged that damn sack, large enough to hold two grown men, across country and there were more than a few holes worn in the thick leather, when she places it on the floor Rory looks agog at the few lengths of black chain that loop out from it.
" Well, them that woud be doubtin' yer seanchaidh wo' hae a hard time noo."
Ori would relay what he could to Almeric when time allowed about the trek. Explaining how each held up, expecally Vardi who was untested, at least with them, until now. He explained how they had the jump on the giant and felt they needed to take advantage of the situation, setting up the ambush as Ori distracted it. Even having a bit of a laugh about how Vardi even attempted to take the big flail out of it's hands, skipping over the shot that landed on Ori himself.
The following morning, Ori felt... different, like his old self. Back to his performing days. Not even that, he felt better then he did back in those days. He found himself, leaner, and more defined, ore then in his show days. Beating that giant surely was the boost in confidence he needed apparently perhaps even going to head a bit.
Rory came forward and looked over the pins, " Clan Bor......Clan Gar? Thats Glissom across the Pagans....he's carried that a way....", his eyes went to Cainneach for a moment. " Clan Fileen.....Clan Morrigan..."
He looked across at the boys.
" Clan Glenneagal.....bastards been eating his way through the Pagans and on....ye mentioned a flail.....did ye be bringing it back wit ye? Things of Fomorian make are said to be strong in the old tales....."
Sir Almeric nodded and reached into his travelling coat throwing a velvet bag on the table, " Lets call it a bonus theres fifty gold there for each of ye courtesy of the Baron for representing him so well."
He stacked another twenty gold in from of the Mors, " For the imposition.....", he sucked on his cheek. " Aye.....call it a gift if ye wish.....we know you'd have us regardless."
"Get some rest, Ladies and Gentlemen. We head back to Marrowglen in the morn.......unless theres a reason to keep north?" His eyes rested for a moment on Famh and Cainneach.
(Not sure if you had a specific thing in mind for Clan Gar, but when I mistakenly searched for Clan Glissom before recalling it was a region north of Ereworn, the results were for Clan Chisholm, who'd I'd written into Cainneach's backstory as the ones that had slaughtered his family. Therefore, Chisholm -> Glissom -> Gar = bad guys! Searching for Glenneagal returned Clan Haldane, so I riffed on that as they seemed to be expansive as you indicated. Feel free to correct or elaborate as you like!)
Cainneach flinched as Rory Mor pronounced the words 'Clan Gar', for they had been deadly rivals of his own clan and certainly spilled the blood of his kin. It had been a long time since those details had surfaced in his mind, but the forester took some grim satisfaction in knowing that at least one of those wretched folk had died at the hands of the monster they had just slain. That death must have at least matched in suffering whatever the fellow had inflicted on any of Clan Strachan. He could only imagine the joy the fearsome druids of Glissom had experienced while driving that bloody lot from their lands. As for Clan Glenneagal, they were known far and wide, at least in Thuland, as Rory's statement would suggest. One of the larger and more enterprising clans, they'd outgrown the Pagans some time ago and ranged south and east. Apparently to the chagrin of some of the folk they'd encountered along the way!
The fifty gold offered by Sir Almeric was quite welcome and Cainneach graciously accepted with a reserved smile and deferential nod. With his position under the Baron, his modest yet growing wealth, and his favour from the Cailleach, the forester's mind swirled with ideas of how he could make a proper home for he and Famh and great improvements to the forests that he oversaw back in Albion.
At Sir Almeric's final, prompting question, Cainneach furrowed his brow, then turned and looked hopefully at Famh. She was more familiar with this land than he was ...
After the conversation concluded, as they headed back to their quarters, Cainneach placed a gentle hand on his betrothed's waist, then playfully spun her 'round to face him. With their impressive triumph, the wonderful fellowship of their company and hosts, and newly acquired coin and dreams of the future, he couldn't help but pull her close and give her a kiss after the others had wandered past. "A dae love ye, Famh, well an truly. It’s been a right blessing tae go oan this journey wi’ ye." Salt nudged his leg to remind him to get him sleep. Cainneach wore a weary, sheepish grin as he gave a little bow to the Thulish sorceress and retired for the night.
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With her sharp faerie ears tilted up and a look of intense interest in her face, Famh listens eagerly to the story Vardi tells. The Lyftenwoman’s native lore is so strangely familiar that at times it is all she can do to keep from falling into a trance and trying to trace the common thread of magic out. At other times she gasps in wonder at the differences.
When the saga of Gotha Foamdaughter and her ill-fated lovers has been full told, she laughs delightedly and claps Vardi on the shoulder – or as high up it as she can reach with her full 5’8” frame stretched up on tiptoe. "That were beautifully tellt, Vardi. And it were refreshin’ tae hear a tale o’ the seafolk – whae we call ‘maichdeann-mhara’ i' Thulish Madhir – where nae ane tries tae steal her changin’ shawl sae he can compel her tae become his bride. Althouch I must say it disn’t sound lak this Gotha woud be like tae stand for much i thon way. Gin she were ane o’ our giants frae doon Brymstone way she’d hae a fence.i’ the back o’ her castle wi’ a hundrit spikes, an aw the spikes but ane wad be fillit wi’ the heids o’ thae thon she’d caucht tryin’ tae steal her shawl.”
***
As the echoes die away from Fingal’s flail contacting the flag-paved floor, Famh says, “I’d call thon a trophy o’ battle; an a token of our success tae thaim as micht be worrit aboot such things. But gin ye or Ori haev the micht tae wield it ye’ve certainly earnit the flail itself bi the blood price ye paid for it. Let me see gin thare micht be the echoes o’ some tale wrappit aboot this flail … “Her voice grows steadily more dreamlike as she more steadily and more unblinkingly gazes upon the bagged weapon; she is clearly going into some fey trance as she reaches out towards it with senses more than mortal … (ARCANA 19)
***
Upon hearing Sir Almeric’s question, and seeing the pleading look that crosses Cainneach’s face, Famh assumes her best look of absolute maiden innocence. Her eyes carefully pass over her betrothed no more often than anyone else in the hall as she assures the Capellar, "Oh, nae sir, I dinna see any reason tae stay langer here i' the north. Weel, bar the kindness o Rory an' Mael’s hospitality. An' A'm grateful tae thaim for thon. But I’m thinkin’ our baron an the earl will be better pleasit gin we cam’ back tae thaim wi’ aw the speit we’re able, tae report our success i' the service they sent us north tae dae. Bar our no havin’ found the murderers o’ thon puir crofter lass, we’ve done aw we were commandit tae bi our laird. An’ thon we canna dae until we reach Marrowglen i any case. But I’ll want tae check wi' ye there an' see gin ye wish us tae wrap up thon loose eend ere we leave the north for guid an aw, an' bring the girl some justice. I can still see thon poor scrap o linen juist the way it lookit whan A found it i the cauld cauld well”
Whatever he may answer, she does him a courtesy as gracefully as she is able (Performance 3) and then nods goodnight to the rest of the retinue before following Cainneachback to the spot between the women's and men's sleeping quarters where they have bid many a final goodnight before. In fact, she smiles as she notices how courteously everyone else has fallen into a pattern of pretending to become so sleepy they ‘don't notice’ the retinue's forester and aspiring filidh lingering behind at that particular point in increasingly intimate nonverbal communication. Which, of course, she enthusiastically responds to on this particular night. A kiss from Cainneach is worth many honey possets in the hierarchy of things that help Famh sleep happily anytime. "It's been a blessing for baith of us, leannan. Ye've taucht me sae much about hou tae love, and ye may be sure ye hae as full measure of ma heart as ye've offerit me o' yours."
She gazes after him tenderly until she sees that he and Salt have disappeared into their customary night quarters. Then she turns back to the common room of the broch to look for Mael. She waits until the older woman’s attention is free and then tugs at the shoulder of her plaid. There is a note of shyness in her voice that hasn’t been there as she asks hesitatingly, “M … Mrs. Mor? Coud a talk tae ye a bit, aff tae the side here where we’d no disturb anyane?” Assuming a favorable answer, she goes on, “Well, A tend tae dae things a wee bit … spontaneously, as it were, an ah plichtit troth tae ma Cainneachere A reflectit thon A hae nae experience i bein’ marriit an dinna ken hou tae be a guid wife tae him. An sae A thoucht thon syne ye an Roryseem well suitit together an hae broucht twa fine sons intae the world tae be a credit tae yerselves an yer clan, ye’d no be lackin’ i wisdom i the field an … well, thon ah coud dae worse than speir for yer advice.”
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Sir Almeric remains deadpan at the somewhat clumsy bow and bids everyone retire as he also does.
Later Famh finds herself alone with Mael who looks a little amused by Famhs question, " Well suited, aye. But that dinnae mean we h'arnt had some argy-bargy over the years."
" It won't all be smooth sailin', mark me. But if you keep yer words ta each other on the regular then you'll always know each others mind."
" So you can work together as a pair and present a united front to them that would oppose ye."
" Also you've a touch o' the Crone about ye, I ken.....so you've got a step up on me on this. But it always helps to keep yer man just a wee bit feared o' ye.", she finished the last sentence with a large wink so Famh was uncertain how serious she was being.
"Oh.....and dinnae ha bairn til yer proper settled, ye know herbcraft enough to see to that?"
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( Everyone feel free to take a Short Rest with the associated Hit Die and you can be back on the road soon after lunch. )
Ori finds the longer he is in contact with the belt the less it hurts his eyes to look at it and the rest of the companions soon feel the same 'adjustment' indeed as Ori looks at the belt hanging over his shoulder after lunch he is almost certain it is somewhat altered in size and appearance to suit him better...
Taking a breather and trying not to think about his side much, he finds focusing on the belt a good distraction. Not quite sure what to make of the item, he has it over his shoulder (like a big champion belt place on the shoulder in boxing or wrestling) he could put one hand on it to remind him not to move that arm. Though those berries, which were super filling one could have lasted him most of the day, were doing their magic and he was felling better, and the bruising seemed to get better I stead of worse (how many did Ori take? He would have insisted everyone have one for the days nourishment but can take whatever others don't). Ori keeps readjusting the belt as it keeps slipping down, until it dawned on him the belt is getting bigger and not slipping. It looked a bit small for him before but now it might stand a chance if Ori sucked his gut in.
Trying to get a sense of this belt as he has it over his shoulder, getting a better look at now, Ori had used it as a focus to ignore the pain that he found he wasn't scared of it. Most magic gives Ori pause as he liked to trust what he understood, muscles and skill, and magic wasn't in that short list of things. Before packing up to head off, Ori desides his side is feeling better but continues to carry the belt like the trophy over his shoulder. "Alright all, time to find Almeric. Cainneach and Thatch, lead the way and scout ahead, Vardi can guard the rear, Aye? Let's be off."
As Cainneach sits with the party after collecting any arrows that were covered in the foul ichor of the fallen giant, he recalls a long ago tale of those Fomorians and relays what he can of it to Ori. "That belt, it bears some resemblance to one I heard of in a tale from when I was a wee lad, before being driven from my home. There was a god of those giants, Neit, a wager of wars, who bestowed something like what you hold to a brave border clan. I don't recall what it might have been able to do, but it does look good on you like that, big man! It's a powerful trophy for the beating you gave and took in that battle."
(As for the berries, Cainneach -- and Thatch and Famh? -- were undamaged, and I believe Vardi recovered most of her HP via Second Wind, so you should be able to take the lion's share of the 10. Cainneach is content to eat his rations so that you might recover better.)
The forester's eyes never drift from his lovely sorceress for too long and he certainly enjoys watching her ponder and muse, the clouds seeming to open and close about the sun with the meanderings of her thoughts. When she finally looks his way, catching his admiring and bemused look, he smiles brightly at her, though not as bright as the gleam in her beautiful eyes. Salt yawns and stretches between the two, having had his fill from their lunches.
"You're right, Ori, best be getting back on the road. Hopefully we can make our way before the sun falls again." He joins Thatch, with Salt padding along besides.
(Obligatory scouting activities ...)
Perception 24
Salt - Perception 18 (super sniffer)
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Vardi keeps a polite smile on her face over her confusion and does as she is bid by the more senior members of the troop. She puts down pack and basket, sits down to check the contents of both after the fight, and silently occupies herself in making sure that Skoggi gets fed.
The Lyften lass sometimes looks to Fingal's still body, or towards Ori eating lunch at quiet moments, but seems satisfied that neither giant nor man are a matter for her to worry about, and concentrates on eating her meal, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Vardi looks to see if either of her arrows survived contact with the enemy, and gathers back her arrowheads even if the shafts are broken. After a long moment of thought, she plucks a bedraggled but still inky black quill from the ground and mutters to herself "Winter's nails and teeth, wha' manner o'giant has feathers?! Nae heard 'tha like afore. Sure something like tha' would ha stuck out from tha crowd..."
"More mainlander strangeness." she concludes and sadly turns away from what she cannot comprehend as being worthy of being named a giant for all their vast and mighty form would argue otherwise.
She offers no comment when Cainneach speaks of such giants, or Fomorians, as he names them to Ori, but listens respectfully.
Despite her doubts and troubling thoughts, Vardi replies "Aye Sarge." and falls in at the end of the line, watching behind the troop for trouble.
(OOC: Perception total of 12.)
The companions gather themselves and make good time heading back towards the broch arriving late in the evening but not too late for supper by the scents on the wind.
The two Morrigan lads were settling down for the night in an outbuilding and raised a hand in greeting once the recognised the figures in the intermittent moonlight.
Máel and Rory were in the kitchen ladling porridge and berries into bowls and Sir Almeric, Fingal and Logie were conversing at the table, all looked up as they heard Salt bark in greeting.
Rory headed out and held the door open, " Get in and get something warm in ye."
Almeric regarded them with interest, then seemingly satisfied gave a satisfied smile.
" Indeed, tell us of your meeting and...", noting certain tell-tale signs, ".....perhaps more."
Ori figures he should be the one to report, but then he remembers the confusion he had trying to understand everything that went on down that narrow hole, "Sir's I'll let Cainneach here explain our meeting as he was our lead, and my lad Thatch will explain why we believe there should be less problems to be had around these hills, as it was one of he's arrows that did the trick." Ori would explain how the team did after when speaking to Almeric alone, expecally of the young Vardi and how she proved herself as useful and capable as any.
"Aye, Vardi, but thon's tae yer benefit, 'twill make yer tale stand oot from the common public-house herd as that o' a lady wha's bestit summat unique.," Famh grins. "And ye needna fear the backbitin o' companions i' the braggin' after. Ori's the other ane coud claim the lion's share o' glory, an ye both shine sae much better singin o' hou valiantly ye stood an foucht together; an hou ye sacrificit yerself tae tak the flail blow thon were aimit for his heid and wad ha made an eend o' him altogether." The look she accompanies these words with is perfect for its transparancy; any shade or undercurrent of meaning that Vardi cares to imagine could as easily be there as not.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Famh is unusually quiet and thoughtful on the trip back to Rory Mor’s broch. Her nights are filled with hideous dreams of not only Fionnuala and her Cainneach, but all her dear friends of the Dayne retinue, caught under one of the terrible blows of the fachan’s deadly flail … and as to whence he drew it … @#$!@!?!
And her days she spends contemplating the varied merits of the heroes she travels with: ... far more evenhandedly than one might at first expect, actually ;-3. She is quite sincere in saying she has always dreamed of being one of the feywise and yet respected class of scholars known as filidhs; and it is one of the very roots of their art to know all that pertains to the retinue of their patron lord even if they aren’t happily betrothed to its forester.
She waits until Thatch and Cainneach have reported and Ori finished his summary to Sir Almeric of the retinue’s dealings with the Cailleach and their victory against Fingal MacTethra. Then she respectfully clears her throat. “Your sergeant deserves e'en more praise for his humility than for his selfless valor, Sir. An sae daes Vardi. We shouldna be standin' before ye whole tae report aucht without their having kept the fachan’s attention and borne the most o' his rage. And Vardi flung herself intae the fray as thouch she were a jotun herself, tryin’ tae seize Fingal’s horrible flail an then usin’ the force o the blow whan he struck her tae send her hammer forward wi’ the more power sae she staggerit the filthy braggart at the same moment Thatch fired. We niver shoud ha’ fellit the beast wi’oiut Thatch an ma Cainneach’s archery, and perhaps a few stanes I saluted his ears wi'.
I’ve left oot the deeds o' Salt and Skuggavardi, but as a man wha like tae have belovit hounds yersel’ I think ye’ll sympathize wi’ Cainneach and Vardi for orderin’ em’ oot o’ the fray. Which aifter they took the ane sniff they were mair than happy tae dae, an I sympathizit wi’ thaim in that. The stench o’ thon beast’s lair wis past aw description.”
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
(Quick revision to previous ... Cainneach would have used his Tree Token to raise an oak tree near the entrance to the Fachan's cave prior to their departure.)
The forester is slightly taken aback by Ori's decision to permit him to provide the report on their meetin with the winter woman, the Cailleach. Had it been at the start of their journey together, he would have been very uncomfortable at such a request, and perhaps fumbled his words. Fortunately, time has passed along with incredible experiences that have bolstered his confidence.
"She was remarkable, sers, the Cailleach. To me, she was an exceedingly ancient and withered woman, but still wtih an aura of power and wisdom. While to me she appeared thusly, to Famh and Thatch she had a completely different visage, a monstrous one and apparently meaning to do me terrible harm. But 'twas not so, she gave us gifts and encouragement to slay the Fachan, labelling it an abomination. While I had her favour in this encounter, I'm not sure things would pass in the same manner in the next. We have carried out her will in destroying the Fachan, hopefully our goals will align if we cross paths again. A truly strange and inscrutable figure."
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Vardi thinks this over for a long moment, her expression uncertain, but still willing to give the benefit of the doubt to Famh's greater experience, she earnestly replies in a whisper.
"Thank ye fra tha kind thought. I nae seem ta have yer knack of makin' sense of all this." then looks sombrely down at Fingal as she adds "If tha lady who sent us here reckoned tha one a wee one..." in fearful wonder.
The Lyften lass shudders, colder at that thought than any winter could chill. In a respectful if somewhat shaken tone she offers "I thought I knew much of giants and their ways. I was mistaken. I will listen harder ta wha' ye say of such matters fra now on, even if it pains me ta admit that lack on my part." by way of apology, then lapses back into silence.
Thatch alternated between surprise and embarrassment as Ori and the others called on him to tell the story of the fight with the Fachan. “Twas nothing, to be honest, sers. A lucky shot. Ori and Vardi grappled directly with the beast, striking and taking fearful blows. Cainneach fired just as many arrows as I, could easily have been one of his that did the trick. And Famh appeared and disappeared around the hillside raining enchantments down on the giant. I just tried to do my part.” He looks away, red-faced as they others continue to talk, breaking in as Cainneach tells the story of meeting the lady of the moors. “Tis true, I don’t know what Cainneach or the others saw, but I was faced with a fearsome giantess that looked ready to eat him.”
As the others finish their tales, Thatch carefully takes the clan pins they found in the crevice and lays them on the table in front of Rory “We were able to recover these from the Fachan’s lair, we are hopeful you can help return them to the clans. For peace of mind at least, I hope.”
Pri half sighs and half chuckles at the recounts at what had happened. Between himself not fully understanding Cailleach and the stupid style of fighting the Fachan he had done, well Ori didn't really feel as though he was in any position to talk for the accomplishments of the rest of them. He had spent most of the fight getting his head caved in and missed how the others were handling business. He wasn't sure if the arrow truly was the final blow but it was the last thing that had happened before the great beast fell. But leave it to Fahm to come through as the groups verbal scribe. Or so he thought, Ori found Fahm accent getting thicker and thicker the longer they stayed. Ori felt like he was getting more accustomed to it however.
"Oi, as they say, a few hot tips and all that remains of the beast is a few bruises and one large carcass, aye?" (Ori is back at full hp between the berries and the short rest).
Looking around at those listening to thier tale, "So what did we miss?"
Assuming no specific attention to the belt: Ori is gonna try to figure it out including wearing it while back in whatever quarters they have for the night.
Almeric raises an eyebrow and indicates for those talking to go ahead once everyone has supper in front of them.
The Mor family listen with rapt attention and even the two Morrigan lads draw in to hear the tale.
Sir Almeric looks very pleased with Thatch and Cainneachs reports and Famhs summary, " To say Well Done would be understating things markedly I think. Exceptional Work, One and All. A Credit to both Your House and Your Families."
" I've seen some strange things over the years, some of it recently in your company....but such a titan......it is bewildering is it not?"
Rory came forward and looked over the pins, " Clan Bor......Clan Gar? Thats Glissom across the Pagans....he's carried that a way....", his eyes went to Cainneach for a moment. " Clan Fileen.....Clan Morrigan..."
He looked across at the boys.
" Clan Glenneagal.....bastards been eating his way through the Pagans and on....ye mentioned a flail.....did ye be bringing it back wit ye? Things of Fomorian make are said to be strong in the old tales....."
Sir Almeric nodded and reached into his travelling coat throwing a velvet bag on the table, " Lets call it a bonus theres fifty gold there for each of ye courtesy of the Baron for representing him so well."
He stacked another twenty gold in from of the Mors, " For the imposition.....", he sucked on his cheek. " Aye.....call it a gift if ye wish.....we know you'd have us regardless."
"Get some rest, Ladies and Gentlemen. We head back to Marrowglen in the morn.......unless theres a reason to keep north?" His eyes rested for a moment on Famh and Cainneach.
" Not a thing.", Rory chuckled.
( If Vardi wishes to further discuss the differences between Jotun and Fomorian then the Mor Boys are keen to do so....though their tales will likely be fanciful at best.)
( Ori- Check your Sheet.)
Vardi listens, glad not to be the ones explaining what occurred, offering only "Did wha I could ta keep up wi' everyone else in tha battle. Right glad I am tha' I was nae alone dancing wi' Fingal or I'd nae be here now ta say so." then sits down to eat, grateful for both the food and good company to enjoy it in.
The Joturn-kin tells a tale of no less than two giants of the Lyften Islands, Hermann the Dark and Saxa the Bright, warriors bold, both ill-fated in love and the reason for their bitter rivalry, the fair but cruel seamaid, the Finnwoman Gotha Foamdaugher...
Vardi relates "After spurning first Saxa an' favoring Hermann, then casting away Hermann fra Saxa's affections, a great fight broke out betwixt tha giants on tha shore, an a great many huge stones were hurled in tha' fray, still there ta be seen now, all over tha Isle 'o' Urnst."
"Yet fra all their fury, Gotha Foamdaughter eventually became tired of the quarrel, nae doubt constantly being in need o' getting out o'the path o'stray boulders, so drew her changin' shawl about her fine white shoulders and most gracefully leapt into the sea. The heartless seamaid laughed an challenged her would-be suitors ta a swimming race, out ta tha far cold lands of Everwinter, where tha white bears bigger than any trow hunt an a day sometimes lasts fra months."
"She offered her clawed yet dainty hand in fasting ta tha one who caught her, be they Saxa or be they Hermann. Gotha taunted Saxa over their slowness and Hermann over their lack of endurance, for Finnfolk are as at home in tha icy waters as any seal or shark, so try as they might, neither could catch her for cruel but clever Gotha knew well tha' nae even giants can fight tha sea forever."
"Some say Hermann an Saxa's great bones lie at tha bottom of tha sea far under tha ice. Others say Gotha devoured them at her leisure, cracked tha marrow fra their bones an swam off ta hunt again. For all anyone knows she is out there still, luring hapless fishermen ta her feasting hall far below in tha waters o'Burrafirth Voe..."
On mention of the Fomorian's flail, she leaves the table and returns with a heavy sack, that rattles and clanks like a knight in a gale wind as she deposits it gently on the floor. The Lyften lass warns "Nae had a chance ta give it a run-through in sand ta clean it off."
Vardi had dragged that damn sack, large enough to hold two grown men, across country and there were more than a few holes worn in the thick leather, when she places it on the floor Rory looks agog at the few lengths of black chain that loop out from it.
" Well, them that woud be doubtin' yer seanchaidh wo' hae a hard time noo."
Ori would relay what he could to Almeric when time allowed about the trek. Explaining how each held up, expecally Vardi who was untested, at least with them, until now. He explained how they had the jump on the giant and felt they needed to take advantage of the situation, setting up the ambush as Ori distracted it. Even having a bit of a laugh about how Vardi even attempted to take the big flail out of it's hands, skipping over the shot that landed on Ori himself.
The following morning, Ori felt... different, like his old self. Back to his performing days. Not even that, he felt better then he did back in those days. He found himself, leaner, and more defined, ore then in his show days. Beating that giant surely was the boost in confidence he needed apparently perhaps even going to head a bit.
(Not sure if you had a specific thing in mind for Clan Gar, but when I mistakenly searched for Clan Glissom before recalling it was a region north of Ereworn, the results were for Clan Chisholm, who'd I'd written into Cainneach's backstory as the ones that had slaughtered his family. Therefore, Chisholm -> Glissom -> Gar = bad guys! Searching for Glenneagal returned Clan Haldane, so I riffed on that as they seemed to be expansive as you indicated. Feel free to correct or elaborate as you like!)
Cainneach flinched as Rory Mor pronounced the words 'Clan Gar', for they had been deadly rivals of his own clan and certainly spilled the blood of his kin. It had been a long time since those details had surfaced in his mind, but the forester took some grim satisfaction in knowing that at least one of those wretched folk had died at the hands of the monster they had just slain. That death must have at least matched in suffering whatever the fellow had inflicted on any of Clan Strachan. He could only imagine the joy the fearsome druids of Glissom had experienced while driving that bloody lot from their lands. As for Clan Glenneagal, they were known far and wide, at least in Thuland, as Rory's statement would suggest. One of the larger and more enterprising clans, they'd outgrown the Pagans some time ago and ranged south and east. Apparently to the chagrin of some of the folk they'd encountered along the way!
The fifty gold offered by Sir Almeric was quite welcome and Cainneach graciously accepted with a reserved smile and deferential nod. With his position under the Baron, his modest yet growing wealth, and his favour from the Cailleach, the forester's mind swirled with ideas of how he could make a proper home for he and Famh and great improvements to the forests that he oversaw back in Albion.
At Sir Almeric's final, prompting question, Cainneach furrowed his brow, then turned and looked hopefully at Famh. She was more familiar with this land than he was ...
After the conversation concluded, as they headed back to their quarters, Cainneach placed a gentle hand on his betrothed's waist, then playfully spun her 'round to face him. With their impressive triumph, the wonderful fellowship of their company and hosts, and newly acquired coin and dreams of the future, he couldn't help but pull her close and give her a kiss after the others had wandered past. "A dae love ye, Famh, well an truly. It’s been a right blessing tae go oan this journey wi’ ye." Salt nudged his leg to remind him to get him sleep. Cainneach wore a weary, sheepish grin as he gave a little bow to the Thulish sorceress and retired for the night.
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( All that works for me. :) )
With her sharp faerie ears tilted up and a look of intense interest in her face, Famh listens eagerly to the story Vardi tells. The Lyftenwoman’s native lore is so strangely familiar that at times it is all she can do to keep from falling into a trance and trying to trace the common thread of magic out. At other times she gasps in wonder at the differences.
When the saga of Gotha Foamdaughter and her ill-fated lovers has been full told, she laughs delightedly and claps Vardi on the shoulder – or as high up it as she can reach with her full 5’8” frame stretched up on tiptoe. "That were beautifully tellt, Vardi. And it were refreshin’ tae hear a tale o’ the seafolk – whae we call ‘maichdeann-mhara’ i' Thulish Madhir – where nae ane tries tae steal her changin’ shawl sae he can compel her tae become his bride. Althouch I must say it disn’t sound lak this Gotha woud be like tae stand for much i thon way. Gin she were ane o’ our giants frae doon Brymstone way she’d hae a fence.i’ the back o’ her castle wi’ a hundrit spikes, an aw the spikes but ane wad be fillit wi’ the heids o’ thae thon she’d caucht tryin’ tae steal her shawl.”
***
As the echoes die away from Fingal’s flail contacting the flag-paved floor, Famh says, “I’d call thon a trophy o’ battle; an a token of our success tae thaim as micht be worrit aboot such things. But gin ye or Ori haev the micht tae wield it ye’ve certainly earnit the flail itself bi the blood price ye paid for it. Let me see gin thare micht be the echoes o’ some tale wrappit aboot this flail … “ Her voice grows steadily more dreamlike as she more steadily and more unblinkingly gazes upon the bagged weapon; she is clearly going into some fey trance as she reaches out towards it with senses more than mortal … (ARCANA 19)
***
Upon hearing Sir Almeric’s question, and seeing the pleading look that crosses Cainneach’s face, Famh assumes her best look of absolute maiden innocence. Her eyes carefully pass over her betrothed no more often than anyone else in the hall as she assures the Capellar, "Oh, nae sir, I dinna see any reason tae stay langer here i' the north. Weel, bar the kindness o Rory an' Mael’s hospitality. An' A'm grateful tae thaim for thon. But I’m thinkin’ our baron an the earl will be better pleasit gin we cam’ back tae thaim wi’ aw the speit we’re able, tae report our success i' the service they sent us north tae dae. Bar our no havin’ found the murderers o’ thon puir crofter lass, we’ve done aw we were commandit tae bi our laird. An’ thon we canna dae until we reach Marrowglen i any case. But I’ll want tae check wi' ye there an' see gin ye wish us tae wrap up thon loose eend ere we leave the north for guid an aw, an' bring the girl some justice. I can still see thon poor scrap o linen juist the way it lookit whan A found it i the cauld cauld well”
Whatever he may answer, she does him a courtesy as gracefully as she is able (Performance 3) and then nods goodnight to the rest of the retinue before following Cainneach back to the spot between the women's and men's sleeping quarters where they have bid many a final goodnight before. In fact, she smiles as she notices how courteously everyone else has fallen into a pattern of pretending to become so sleepy they ‘don't notice’ the retinue's forester and aspiring filidh lingering behind at that particular point in increasingly intimate nonverbal communication. Which, of course, she enthusiastically responds to on this particular night. A kiss from Cainneach is worth many honey possets in the hierarchy of things that help Famh sleep happily anytime. "It's been a blessing for baith of us, leannan. Ye've taucht me sae much about hou tae love, and ye may be sure ye hae as full measure of ma heart as ye've offerit me o' yours."
She gazes after him tenderly until she sees that he and Salt have disappeared into their customary night quarters. Then she turns back to the common room of the broch to look for Mael. She waits until the older woman’s attention is free and then tugs at the shoulder of her plaid. There is a note of shyness in her voice that hasn’t been there as she asks hesitatingly, “M … Mrs. Mor? Coud a talk tae ye a bit, aff tae the side here where we’d no disturb anyane?” Assuming a favorable answer, she goes on, “Well, A tend tae dae things a wee bit … spontaneously, as it were, an ah plichtit troth tae ma Cainneach ere A reflectit thon A hae nae experience i bein’ marriit an dinna ken hou tae be a guid wife tae him. An sae A thoucht thon syne ye an Rory seem well suitit together an hae broucht twa fine sons intae the world tae be a credit tae yerselves an yer clan, ye’d no be lackin’ i wisdom i the field an … well, thon ah coud dae worse than speir for yer advice.”
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Sir Almeric remains deadpan at the somewhat clumsy bow and bids everyone retire as he also does.
Later Famh finds herself alone with Mael who looks a little amused by Famhs question, " Well suited, aye. But that dinnae mean we h'arnt had some argy-bargy over the years."
" It won't all be smooth sailin', mark me. But if you keep yer words ta each other on the regular then you'll always know each others mind."
" So you can work together as a pair and present a united front to them that would oppose ye."
" Also you've a touch o' the Crone about ye, I ken.....so you've got a step up on me on this. But it always helps to keep yer man just a wee bit feared o' ye.", she finished the last sentence with a large wink so Famh was uncertain how serious she was being.
"Oh.....and dinnae ha bairn til yer proper settled, ye know herbcraft enough to see to that?"