After their adventures on the isle of Gwynnwth, (and their subsequent departure after trying to explain their actions in the affair of the Luskan raiders) Ddraig, Ynyr and Helaugh find themselves on the isle of Moray, a more brooding land, ruled by the Ri (King) Conn.

You are in the Green Briar Inn, relaxing with your new friend, a elf out of the wild woods. The inn is abuzz with some news.

"... still not sure we were in right on it, sending Inge home again, but she had a way with her,"

Healaugh concludes the story of their recent adventures on Gwynneth. Even to himself he's not prepared to admit how much of a way Inge had about her.

"Maybe some peaceful times ahead, dost think?"

Ghadmyr gives a taciturn half-grin.

"Peaceful times tend to have a remarkable brevity about them."

Realizing his dour prediction is too somber for the occasion, Ghadmyr's face breaks into a smile.

"But here's to hope."

He takes another sip of his ale and grimaces. Ghadmyr clearly has a taste reserved for elven brew.

"You're in right of it there Ghadmyr. Peaceful times are a bit fleeting like."

Healaugh drinks deep, making the most of the (probably) brief respite.

"Where's our Ynyr and Ddraig got to? Said they'd be here. Promised them hurdy-gurdy recital and all."

Ynyr approaches the table. Pausing only to see if Healaugh has his hurdy-gurdy handy. Seeing that it still appears to be in its case, he comes nearer and greet him with a smile.

"Now, isn't this more like what it ought to be? A bit of peace and a good drink and could there be a better way to be calm in? Did I not hear that there was something to hear in this inn?"

It seems a crowd is gathering in the courtyard outside; there's quite the commotion.

"Reet. Go and have a little look-see shall we?"

The chatter seems excited and intrigued; people of all walks of life are crowding round the entrance to the inn. You spy the rotund, red-faced form of Breen, the short and stout proprieter, nailing some parchment up.

Ghadmyr makes his way through the crowd to try to get a look at the parchment and see what is written there.

Knowing he's got no chance of seeing the parchment, Healaugh waits patiently for the tall elf to come back.

Indeed, the whole common room spills out into the muddy yard!

Breen reads out the notice aloud for his customers:

"Be it known that the Ri Conn passes sentence of death on the white boar of Kilfay, which lately slew in bloody murder Muirish of the house of Conn. Furthermore, whosoever shall carry out this sentence and bring the dead body to the Ri shall receive his heart's desire, by the power of the Kingstone."

Ghadmyr makes his way back to Healaugh and the others. "The white boar of Kilfay?"

Ghadmyr tries to recall if he has heard of such a beast before. Nature check 1d20+13 = 21.

"Don't know as I've heard of it, nor lad it's killed. Seemingly Ri Conn's reet fetched by insult to his kin."

Healaugh dredges around in his copious memory.

Neither Ghadmyr or Healaugh have heard of the beast before, but they do know that boars can be dangerous when cornered.

Healaugh knows that the Kingstone is a large piece of granite, weathered into the shape of a chair or throne that stands at the centre of the kingdom. It is used in a special ceremony when the chieftain (or "Ri") is made ruler of the land; it is said to be instilled with magic by the diety Math, to grant each Ri one boon during his reign.

The boon is supposed to be stored against some calamity befalling Moray, and it is unheard of that a Ri should make the power available to someone else.

He doesn't know anything much about the Ri Conn.

There is great consternation amongst the crowd at this announcement, as well as a certain bewilderment on Breen's face upon reading it.

"Know owt about this then? Other than what's written," asks Healaugh, engagingly.

"Ah, sure, Master Healaugh," Breen replies, his face growing redder, "Nae good will come o' this. Muirish died a warrior's death, hunting that boar. 'Tis not right tae seek recompense."

One of the patrons says with barely concealed annoyance, "The power o' the Kingstone dinnae be a trinket to be given away!"

"Happen this Muirish was kin of Ri Conn. Folks'll do strangeness for lost kin. Reckon tha's in reet about Kingstone. Powerful like."

Healaugh shakes his head sadly at the folly of mankind.

"Indeed. If you go hunting for trouble, don't be surprised when you find it. It's a terrible shame, but I hope the Ri Conn reconsiders his offer."

"Does it not say plain as day?" Breen says to Healaugh, "Muirish o' the house o' Conn?"

He adds more quietly, "He was his son."

"Killing a pig - where's the honour in that?" grumbles a deep voice.

Just to get a dot and get in at the beginning, even if I don't even have much of a character concept yet beyond "barbarian". By the wa, the avatar is a placeholder too.

So much for getting a dot - ah, that's better.

Pah. What did you do right? I can't get a dot on this thread.

"Din't know Muirish was his son, now," remarks Healaugh peacably. "Happen boar were large and fearsome," he adds for the benefit of the rumbling voice above him.

The crowd, almost as one, glares at the owner of the rumbling voice. "Y'ever faced a boar?" one of them asks aggressively.
"This one cannae be killed, neither!" another one says.

Breen makes calming motions with his hands to the crowd.

Pah. What did you do right? I can't get a dot on this thread.

Unperturbed, the warrior shrugs and rubs his unshaven chin. "Anything can be killed, if you are strong enough." The newcomer is a tall and rangy human, slouching in a chair near the others with his greataxe in easy reach, his hide armour battered and his cloak travel-stained. He seems preturnaturally calm and relaxed, though his dark eyes carry a dangerous glitter.

There you go - at least you know what he looks like now. Now I just need some stats.

Gotcha. That's why I seem to have to spend forever getting dots on threads. Thank you.

How strange. I can get a dot pretty quickly, just posting with an alias. weird.

One or two people eye Macmoor with suspicion.

"Ye'll be having some sort o' magic then to fight it, will ye?" one of them asks sarcastically.

"Will yers all calm down a wee bit?" Breen says, "Let me tell you how it happened." he adds to the adventurers.

Ghadmyr gives his attention to Breen and listens impassively.

I had no trouble getting a dot either. Interesting.

"OK, let's hear about the magic pig."

"Don't yet as it's a magic anything, Macmorr. Sounds like stuff of legend though." Healaugh's hands go instinctively to his hurdy-gurdy.

Breen fills you in on what happened:

"It happened within our borders in Kilfay." he begins, "The beechwood not far from here. Tis not wise to stray too far into its darkness. Them as has, reckless hunters, few return."

He goes on to explain that a large group of elves "'Grugach' they calls themselves" makes much of Kilfay its home, discouraging trespassers with traps and snares, and when those fail, striking from ambush with their "elf-shot" (poisoned arrows).

A lot of superstition surrounds these elves. Especially when the moon is in certain phases, one should not venture into Kilfay, lest one is taken back to the netherworld of the elves, to join their Wild Hunt. (At this, Breen eyes Ghadmyr with slight worry and says "Er... beggin' yer pardon.")

"But, not too long ago, swineherds and cotters near the fringes o' the forest, said they'd seen small bands o' the grugach, making themselves known. Not like them to be out in the open."

"So, the druids, they say it must be fer some reason. And d'ya know, so it was! So, the chieftains they all get on their guard cos o' this warning from the druids."

"That's when the goblin-folk come out o' the blackest parts o' forest. Slain by our swords and elf arrows, they were. Without them grugach, we woulda been caught with our breeches down."

"So, by way o' gratitude, we sends 'em gifts, and words o' thanks. But all we find is dead goblin bodies. They'd gone back to the wood."

He continues:

"There're standin' stones and such to mark the border between our land and that o' the grugach. Both sides respect that, just as Muirish and his men did when they found the white boar. Or the boar found them."

He mops his brow and adds, "It cam crashin' inta the clearing they had dismounted in t' get a drink from the brook in. The grugach come ridin' in on their fine horses. Arrows were shot, lances thrust, swords slashed, but no harm came to the boar. His followers said Muirish died a warrior's death, his side torn open as he leapt at the beast."

"More might've died they say, had it not been for his courage."

"Sad tale that is, but no call for Ri Conn to be calling blood-debt on a beast."

"We all agree on that, Master Healaugh." Breen says, and there are murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

"Were Muirish only one killed?"

"Aye, only one of ours. One o' the followers said one o' the grugach were mighty injured... maybe he was called off too. But, who can tell?"

Ghadmyr finally speaks. "Has anyone seen or heard tale of this boar before this?"

Everyone shakes their heads and indicates to the negative.

"Like it sprang outta nowhere, with tusks like spears!"

"Well, y'know what they say about white beasts..."

"T'would be a grand trophy."

"Not so sure what they say about white beasts around these parts."

Healaugh rummages through his memory for any bits of local legend ...

History, Nature (1d20+7=14, 1d20+9=21)

... and isn't sure if he can remember anything useful.

Healaugh remembers that the colour white is often associated with the supernatural - an animal with white fur or hide is often deemed to have an otherworldly origin.

"Ghadmyr, dost think grugach hereabouts may know more of boar?" asks Healaugh in an undertone.

Ghadmyr speaks softly to Healaugh. "It sounds to me like they were hunting the beast on that fateful day. I suspect that they would."

If Ghadmyr knows his wild kinfolk of the grugach, then that is very likely, as they enjoy a magnificent hunt as much as the proud warriors of Moray.

"Sounds like ye're after hunting this boar." Breen says with concern, "But ye look like a hardy lot. If ye're set on that, I can show ye the trail t' the clearing where Muirish fell."

"Well, if the pay is good, I guess I'll keep these gentlemen company"

Breen looks baffled, "Pay? Ye don't understand, do ye? The Ri Conn will use the power o' the Kingstone for those what bring the White Boar to 'im. That's more than any 'pay' ye'd get, stranger."

"Then I guess the pay is good."

Macmorr gets up and swings his axe over his shoulder. "You with me?" he asks the others.

"These are mysterious happenings that merit a closer look. If there is a disturbance in those woods, I would like to find out what it is. But I have no intention of providing any encouragement to the Ri who would bestow the power of the Kingstone so haphazardly."

"Aye. Tha's in reet of it there Ghadmyr. Kingstone's not like to take kindly to that use. Not Ri Conn's to control like. Finding boar now, that's reet enough."