"Aye. I'll be right in." Angus setting down his axe he whistles for Timber. "Keep our friend company." Heading inside and grabbing some of the prepared breakfast, he says "Morning to all. What's the plan?"

Lorcan has been quietly ignoring the strange group making themselves at home in his longhouse as he goes about his chores. He glances up at Moz. "The Druid of Kromac leaves his name behind after years of study in service to the will of Kromac. If you're worried about knowing who he is, don't. He is the only one."

Moz the Magnificent 

"Well that is convenient. The man with no name." Looking to Angus. " Since the general consensus seems to be to head to Darryl and try to convince the Clan Chief not to heed the Druid's call to war." Passing a platter heaping with eggs and bacon to the Barbarian. " How do we do that? "

"We tell him the truth: That the stone is dangerous and had to be destroyed; that Sir Lorn is an arse but taking up arms against the flame will only bring The Silver Order down on all of Skye." Valanthe says, trying Java for the first time. "Sir Lorn should be exiled".

Alorin

“That’s a good start,” Alorin chimes in, “but if the clan leader is half as excited about war as the Druid, or willing to listen to him on what Kromac would want, the idea of an even bigger war would only excite him. We need more information on how he thinks. Do you have any ideas on the matter, Angus?”

"Until now, their raids have been on the mainland and not on other people of Skye, right?" Valanthe continues, "That there is more glory in striking overseas. Why change now? Sir Lorn is from overseas - push that. Let them continue their raids but with greater purpose."

Sascha's sleep had been fitful at first, plagued with dreams of the horrors of war. Of memories of the fear she saw in men's eyes when she rode them down  and didn't show them the same courtesy as the Druid the day before. Some of those dead men had the faces of Sir Lorn and his compatriots. Some her companions here. Clearly she was anxious, even in her sleep about the brewing conflict her series of decisions had lead to. When Moz had yelled she had in fact woken, but she had remained quiet, eyes closed as she contemplated what to do next.  It was the talk of preventing the war that eventually bought her around. Not food, though of course as she joined the group she would eat.

"It's a slight shame the stone has already been destroyed. If we could have shown him somehow what a wicked thing it is, the chief might hae understood. As it stands though.we may be harder pressed to convince him. Still, We don't know what he knows. Perhaps he's heard word from further afield, and knows more about Delerium than most. The nobility know more than most in Westemaar, although though obviously that's a very different situation." 

Sascha's eyes widened at Neris' suggestion.

"You'd advocate for them attacking Elyria, Neris? That... Could motivate a lot of terrible things. If the Elyrians feel like they need to neutralise a threat from Skye they might put much greater scrutiny on Isle. And what will they find here? A faith they consider demon worship? A Mage-blooded elf ruling Eladria. I think in the long run the most brutal thing we could do here is encourage them to attempt reprisals against the church, or Lorn's home." 

Moz the Magnificent 

" I think the idea that stamping out the Sacred Flame on Skye will just bring more is a good one. How about the Druids? They are not a unified front. Noedens Druid might be more intrested in directing forces to fight these monsters we heard of." Finishing off his plate of eggs and bacon. " Anyway you swing it, it is going to be a hard sell. We should be prepared that we might not be able to change anything."

"Huh? Elyria?" replies Valanthe a little confused "I doubt they got delirium from Elyria. Can you even sail to Elyria from here...? No - they raid overseas..." she said waving her arm in a general south direction meaning anywhere but Skye "...er,  the northern coast of, like, Westemar, right? That's where they got the stone. No one from Westemar seemed to care they were getting pillaged until the raiders got their hands on delirium. They can just go back to raiding Westemar..." Valanthe raises a fork into the air and says with forced gravitas "... for the glory of Kromac!" and with a quick gesture and choice words makes the sound of a wolf howling to provide further emphasis. She settles back down and says "And we aren't mage-blooded:  We're just elves"  but this time more quietly.

"We should just get going - that druid has a couple of hours head start."

"Chieftain Martyn Mac has a deep reverence for the Druid and the Ravager. He is likely to rally his warriors and wait until a worthy sacrifice can be brought down and sacrificed to Kromac to ensure a successful hunt. This has been his habit in all he does. I'd reckon he will wait to attack until a sufficient sacrifice can be found, likely a large elk, boar, or bear. As the Druid said yesterday, the harder the beast is to bring down, the sweeter the blood. If a suitable beast cannot be found then he will likely strike the next time Kromac devours the moon. Then too, would Arwyn's Eye no longer watch over us and safeguard us from his fangs. While the Warrior wait for the right moment they will revel in feasts, drinking, debauchery, and tests of might by day and in seances soaked in the blood of beasts by night."

Angus thinks for a moment, "The next new moon is in just over a week. That won't be enough time to gather anymore of the cursed stones."

"Lorn, however, is from Elyria. If you want to inflame tensions based on his actions,  my thought is that'll be the target. But, even if they're going to raid along the coast of Westamar. Well, now we're talking about bringing war to the shores of my homeland, in a time where it's already devastated. It might deal with the problem but I hope you'd understand why I'd be loathe to agree to such an idea." 

She nodded at Valanthe's correction. Stifling a snort of laughter at her gesture with the fork and invokation of Kromac.

"And for a faith whose most zealous and orthodox followers believe that the practice of Arcane magic of any kind is disqualifying to a person's right to rule, being an elf is enough to cause a lot of drama over." In this moment Sascha was finding it difficult to defend the worldview of the faith of the Sacred Flame. She had much in common with Rivyre's interpretation of the doctrine, though she wasn't particularly devout to begin with.

"My point being that I understand the distinction but I think it'd be wasted on them if they felt they were being  drawn into a war with a hostile power, and that power had the potential to ally with a modern-day sorcerer-queen." 

The noblewoman ets her own food to the side for a moment, doing her best to convey the severity she felt the moment deserved.

"Before we go anywhere, we need a plan. One that isn't going to threaten Skye, Elyria *or* Westemar. I can't in good conscience jeep proliferating war and carnage like that." 

Moz the Magnificent 

Chuckling at Valanthe's impersonation of the Druid. " Well done." Looking back to Sascha. " I am not sure there is a plan that doesn't threaten one of those three places. It is quite the conundrum." Sipping his Java, " We might just have to accept this is out of our hands. Also, what about the child. What are you thinking about doing with her."

Giving a fake grin " You could give her to me, you know. I will take good care of her.....No?.......Neris  could help...... ......still a no." He says staring at Alorin's straight faced expression. " meh, worth a try." Shurgging his shoulders 

2 Thawing, 1126

The frigid morning wanes on, sunlight shining through a now-clear sky as it filters through the thick canopy of the firs over the longhouse. Resolute in their decision to try and sway the course of the Lochlann clan's potentially looming religious war, the party packs their bags and swaddles up the young infant who sleeps peacefully, full of fairy cow milk. Angus hitches Beef to the sled, and Sascha grooms and saddles Solis for the short journey back to Darryl.

Lorcan embraces his cousin and wishes him luck, and gives each member of the party some food to take with them, the equivalent of two days' rations for each. "I wonder that you've fallen in with such company, cousin," Lorcan says, "but the whisper of the stars at night disturbs me. Something is afoot in the world, and you perhaps, are at the edge of it. That the folk of Eladria, and of the Fey, and of the Flame, come to join the Brotherhood of the Northfolk over a stone, is an omen, for good or ill it is hard to say. I trust that the Druid's wisdom and council will guide the Lochlann clan in the days to come. Fare well to you. But I must ask you, do not bring me refugees of a war against the Druid of Kromac again. I will not be able to take them in a second time."

Trotting across the snow, the runners of the sled trailing easily behind, Beef follows Solis back down along the course of the Gadabout River. The woods are silent and still, and the tracks of an enormous bear go before them in the snow. Not even birds are calling in this deep cold. The noisy tinkle of the river trickling through icy channels in its course accompanies the silence, underlaid by the rhythm of Solis' hooves crunching in the snow. Beef's cloven hooves are as silent as the swooshing of the runners of the sled.

They reach the bridge over the confluence of the rivers, and clattering over it, they begin to climb, up the back of the tall hill that overlooks the bay. The giant firs give way to the spindly, bare branches of oak and elm, and the close brush of pine. The trees cluster close, and then suddenly drop away to a clearing on the hill's summit. A large wooden longhouse sits there, illuminated by the clear sunlight as the shadows of the forest drop away. Smoke curls up from holes in the roof, three of them along the length of the building, and the snow around the longhouse has been recently churned up by many feet.

"I too have heard those whispers Cousin. Things are afoot and I am called to answer. There's something about these strangers, I can feel it in my bones. We will likely leave this isle, when we do I'd like you to take care of Beef for me, Cousin. I'll bring you some of the treasure we'll find along our way." With a final embrace and a firm handshake, Angus departs.

Seeing the trees part to reveal the longhouse Angus grows nervous. This longhouse is where enemies are made and war declared. Petty squabbles have often resulted in bloodshed with its walls. The Northfolk clans have bickered for as long as they've inhabitanted this emerald isle. It'll be hard to stop a people so easily prone to violence 

"This is where the clan leaders meet to discuss things of import. The war council has already begun it seems. Who will be joining me?" Angus turns to the group, his voice has a slight falter to it.

Rivyre scoffs a bit, "I won't. My presence will only make them more angry than they already are. If any want to hear what I say, you can come get me later. But, you saw how the Druid responded to me so I doubt it. I'll wait outside here w/ Beef."

Alorin

“I can’t stay away from this. These islands are the only home I can still remember”, Alorin adds wistfully. He lays the infant on the sled next to El and tells her, “Take care of her; I’ll be back as soon as I can. You can trust any of the others that remain, but do be wary of any strangers that show up after we leave.”

Rivyre takes a few deep breaths calming herself from her bitter & angry mood to a more somber tone of voice, turns, & replies to Alorin,

"I don't want to stay away from this either as these isles are my childhood home, so I suspect we share similar interests there & also want to avoid needless civilian deaths. Do try your best to not mention "my" connected interest in regards to the Sacred Flame if you can. I trust you." She continues to take more deep breaths..., trying very hard to stay in this somber & calmer emtional state & continues, "Syletha will help keep watch for susupicious activity & I will help El keep care over the infant." Rivyre moves over, picks up, & cradles the infant in her arms under her cloak & robes.

She turns to Syletha & telepathically speaks, "I know you feel much the sme way I do now, but now you must be vigilant & careful. No harm must come to this infant. Find a perch w/ the best view of this area to keep a watchful sense of the area."
She pets Syletha w/ one hand & utters a prayer out loud in Tylwyth (Sylvan), "O Flame, be our protection. Watch over our paths & guide us with thy light. Preserve us, & all people from injury & deceit, from fear of thy enemy, from the arrow that flies by day, & evil that walks in darkness." (Guidance to Syletha, 1d4= 2)

"Meow...," Syletha jumps up on Rivyre's shoulder, purrs, licks her face in a reassurance. She flutters over to the infant, rubs her head against the infant purring & licking his face. Afterwards she flys up to the top if the longhouse w/ the best view of the surrounding area keeping vigialnt over those who remain outside watching for dangers. (Perception check w/ advantage & guidance= 20)

Moz the Magnificent 

Stretching his arms snd giving a yawn, Moz climbs out of sled. Looking up at the Longhouse. "Clan Leaders? We expecting more than Clan Lochlann?" Looking up at Angus. 

Looking over to Alorin. "I'll join you, someone has to make sure you don't promise them the Sun and Stars." Giving him a grin. Looking back to Angus "You think you can talk us in there?"

Cat-Sith swoops down out of the sky, touching down lightly beside Moz. " Is this our destination, small one?" The Sphinx's voice echo's in his head. Sitting on his hunches he looks up at Moz with a commanding look. " You are not in His court, these are bloodthirsty savages and worshippers of Kormac who would just as soon turn your skull into a drinking vessel. They will not appreciate your sharp tongue. Check your tongue or I will rip it out." Getting up he imperiously  strolls ahead of the group. 

"Geeez, I always wondered where that saying came from." Moz mutters to himself. 

"I will..." says Valanthe. "That is, do you think an elf of Eladria could have any sway with your leaders?" she asks Angus. "It's not like Eladria has much to do with anyone else on Skye."

"This land is your as much as it is mine. The clans would think it wise to keep an ally of the elves." Angus says to the fair lady, and to the so called 'emerald knight': "Your habit of a sharp tongue might keep you from staying within the wooden halls of the hill, within one piece, that is. For the others though, I'm sure it can be arranged." Angus turns from the group, "Take a moment to gather your thoughts and give me a moment to gather mine." He steps away from the party as he slams his axe into the earth. He finds a spot where the sun shines through the overcast and begins to pray as he kneels. 
"O' Nuada, I have seen to your blade as long as my life, I beg of thee, grant me your eyes, of your divine vision of what is to come for my people and I and the words that will lead us to your will. Grant me the ruthlessness in which you carry your blade, that I will seek nothing but your will for my hands to enact. O' Danu, Mother Earth, grant me the compassion of understanding, that I may be the medium for your eternal kindness. O' Arwyn the Moon Hunter, grant me your cunning so that I may weave the words to halt this coming war and keep the flock from falling into the Ravager's Maw, let the shepherd be the one to bleed in the stead of his flock. O' Lugh, grant my kin your love for life and foster within them the same love for us that you bear within the holy light of each morning. O' Mother-Witch, Morrigan, weigh the lives of all on this divine isle and find our souls worthy in the eyes of fate, for a few more years of peace, for a few moments absent of bloodshed among the now shifting weight of the world. O' Father Nodens, by your tears and sweat are we to survive, and by your will let all on this isle survive a few years more absent from the storms of your wrath. O' Ogham, grant our leaders and I the knowledge of all the threaten these lands, be it mortal or mineral. O' Phantasia, you know what I wish to come to pass, send me a muse to bridge the gaps of my mind and bring our conflicts to a sound resolution. O' Sheogorach, I ask for your blessing, only with you luck can peace be guaranteed. O' Giabhne, let your words flow through those gathered here, that we may build something greater through our unity. O' Kromac, let our blood alone sate your hunger for a year. Let us be the chalice that you sup from so that you abstain from my kin and the strangers on this isle."
Angus sits low in prayer, awaiting a sign from any and all of the pantheon.