[hr] [@Mardox] [@Eklispe] [@Lauder] [@Lexicon] [@Wernher] [@Tracyarmav] [@babbysama] [hr] [color=ffe699][h2][u][center]1221 - First Year of Our Exile[/center][/u][/h2][/color] [color=ffe699][h3][center]Sacred Time[/center][/h3][/color] At the start of each Sacred Time, that celebratory period at the beginning of the year, each Urlandi clan performs sacred rituals to call on the gods and their ancestors for help. Through these means the clans gain magic which can be used to bolster the clan. The God-Talkers then commune with the gods and tell us prophecy. This year, Clan Aonghus has 8 magic to distribute. Each member of the Council may allocate 1 magic as they so desire, or they may keep their magic in reserve for the future. Our Chief, Serheim, may distribute 2 magic instead of 1. The God-Talkers predict that we will have a normal harvest this year. They also had a vision of a woman's shadow pointing a sword out to the east. They took it as a sign that Cairis wants us to explore this year. Finally, the God-Talkers note our clan magic is weaker than it should be, but cannot say why. [u][b]Magic[/b][/u] Children - ◻◻ Crops - ◻◻◻ Diplomacy - ◻◻◻ Health - ◻◻◻ Herds - ◻◻◻ Invention - ◻◻ Hunting - ◻◻ Mysteries - ◻◻ Quests - ◻ Trade - ◻◻◻ War - ◻◻◻◻ [color=ffe699][h3][center]Rising Rain[/center][/h3][/color] The melting of the last snow is a breath of fresh air for the clan. The last year has been one of hardship. Clan Aonghus has been banished, betrayed, and forced to undertake a perilous journey, forced to do unjust things to survive... But those times are over, finally. The storms are gone, the white sheet on the land has given way to a sea of green, and beautiful flowers are blooming across the hills and prairies. It is Rain season, the planting season, and every effort must be made to ensure it goes smoothly. The Rain season is a poor time to go raiding, though the Gallocmen are always itching for a fight. Besides the members of the council, we have 735 clansmen and 77 thralls. [list][*]300 of our clansmen are children. [*]17 of our clansmen are Gallocmen. [*]12 of our clansmen are Craftsmen. [*]15 of our clansmen are Hunters. [/list] Our herds are rather average for our clan's size. [list][*]We have 705 healthy cattle. [*]We have 985 sheep. [*]We have a sparse 20 horses for use in raiding and war. [*]We have some hounds to help our shepherds protect the flocks.[/list] We have some wealth to our name. [list][*]We have 140 goods for trade. [*]We have a single Treasure:[list][*]Cloak of the Black Wolf: This cloak imparts on its wearer great skill in stealth, and it is useful when taken on adventures that require such skill. The legends warn, however, that wearing the cloak too much might make one become closer to the Black Wolf than one might like...[/list][/list] The Gallocmen feel satisfied. The Kerns feel satisfied. [hr] [center][b][color=ffe699]The Quarreling Couple[/color][/b][/center] The Council meets in the newly build Clan Hall for the first time. It is a strange moment, one that produces mixed feelings of relief and regret. Most of the clan still yearns for the days when we lived in Urland, where we had a Clan Hall that had stood for two hundred years. Heroes had met there, dined there, and been ordained into the clan there. There is no such history yet in our Hall. Such history will have to be made anew one day at a time. But the pursuit of glory will have to wait. There are domestic matters to be dealt with first. Twice each season, the people of the clan are given an opportunity to come forward and present their domestic troubles and complaints to the clan. So it is now, just after the Sacred Time. Most of the matters presented to the Council are resolved quickly, but one in particular refuses to be settled easily. Fintan Lariksen is a proud, perhaps haughty Gallocmen who has served the Clan nobly enough over the fifty years of his life. He has never been seen as a cool-headed man, but now he seems to be red with rage. His wife, Aifric, stands to his right, brandishing her husband's sword about angrily as she addresses the Council. "I caught him laying with another woman again!" the tall, gray-haired woman roars, slapping the sword against her thigh. She's still quite pretty for her age. "And it's not the first time this year! First it was with a thrall girl, and now it's with some squat floozy from Clan Gearalt!" "And should I bring up how I caught [i]you[/i] sneaking about the back of our house with that young farmer? Or did you forget about that?" The old man growls through gritted teeth as he speaks. "Not to mention how you tried to skewer me on that sword, you crazed hag!" The two of them shout a while longer before trying to throw themselves at the other in fits of rage. It takes four strong men to pull the two of them apart before they can cause any real harm to each other. How should the Council deal with this matter?