Elendor
Quiet Council
The leaders of the Bear Clan are all rather tight-lipped about their preferences, but in the courtyard at night some discussion has happened.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Dunland - Creatrach
Description: [Gabhran(#15443)]
Speculations of war is in the air. Fortunately, the games keep the nervous tension and energy focused on friendly competition instead of airing old feuds. The games are continuing into the night, and the Keep is lit with torches.
While there are a few women about, most are wives of Fians who remain inside and help with the cooking, serving, cleaning and generally watching over the gathering. They seem tired after serving supper, yet most of them gather at the well to wash the mountain of dishes and pots in preparation for the next meal.
Except one.
The Mother of the young Fian Alois Odhran paces the courtyard in a remote corner while her companion smokes a pipe, seated on the ground.
[Olmys(#32384)] There is no sneaking up, someone would have to be deaf not to hear the braying and bickering of the herd following in Fian Mailduin's wake. When one of the various offspring breaks off his arguing long enough to warn Mailduin before the Fian can step in a puddle the Fian looks at him speculatively.
"Which one are you now?" he asks. He then waves a hand dismissing the question. "It makes no matter. Go tell the other vultures that I've made you heir, while I go speak with your sister."
He turns then and steps towards the pacing woman. "Daughter," he says in greeting.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Isobeil."
The woman smiles back at the lurching man with the usual cacophony of sons, grandsons, nephews and nieces buzzing about him like flies on a carcass.
"Isobeil. My name is Isobeil. I was your favorite three winters ago." Her volume rises in pitch, perhaps to compensate for the old man's loss of hearing, or perhaps to make sure the various leeches hear her voice.
"Your grandson Alois is now the Fian, since my husband died. You remember, don't you? How you married me off to that man older than yourself?"
The Fian of Ranich isn't far, and is making his way out of one of the tents while laughing and holding his staff in one hand and a wooden mug of some drink in the other. Once free of the tent and the people within he lets out a slow breath and pauses to catch his bearings before walking at a leisurely pace towards the keep, and the herd of Mailduin in front of it.
[Olmys(#32384)] With a snort Mailduin lifts his cane and shakes it angrily at his daughter. "Don't raise your voice at me little lassie," he says angrily. "I've not lost my hearing yet."
He looks her up and down for a moment as he lowers the cane back to the ground. "Yes, I remember you now. Wicked little thing you were, had to get you out of Cragh na Dunn before you killed off the whole brood, heh."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Something none of your sons have the backbone to do." Isobeil retorts smartly, then directs a warning smile at the collection of copper-headed offsprings, arching her brow victoriously. She directs her gaze at a particularly young girl. "I could easily kill you. He married me off to a dying old man. Who's to say I didn't kill him? I could easily kill you too. What is wrong with another sin? I ask you. Hmm?" She takes a step forward to the little girl, in hopes of making her either wet her pants or run away crying.
But the wicked look is gone, and she smiles cordially at her father.
"I will be sitting at the Council, of course. Alois is much too young."
Ciaran stops when he nears the group, casually taking another sip from the mug while he watches the little reunion between the Mailduin folk. The Fian from the farming community has been rather aloof since arriving, keeping his conversation light and good-natured most of the time.
He seems to be alone, his usual retainers elsewhere for the moment, or perhaps back in the tent not yet caught up. But then, it is the middle of the courtyard right before the keep, so hopefully the Fian has little to fear in such a public location.. and why would anyone want him dead?
He waits for a pause in the conversation, then inclines his head in a nod to the group. "Good eve." He greets mildly, as if he didn't just hear the threatening exchange.
[Olmys(#32384)] Mailduin sighs sadly and nods. "Aye, if only you'd been born with a cock, Izzy," he says. "I'd have had an heir I could of been proud of," he snorts and shakes his head. "Unfortunately you weren't and the law prohibits me from making you my heir. That same law also says that now that your husband has passed on you now fall back under my protection."
He rises an eyebrow and looks at her for a moment. "I'll not force the issue, to show you that I still care I'll allow you to go speak your piece to the Council. I can think of a few who'll be absolutely thrilled by your presence." He gives her a mocking smile and then turns towards Ciaran.
"Ahh! The boy Fian," he says. "Good eve to you as well."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
The brooding presence behind Izzy begins to stir but she flips her head. "Not now, Egan."
She then turns back to her father and the approaching Fian. "I must go see to Alois. Father, I am sure we will be talking more later."
The young mother of Alois Odhran saunters back towards the Keep, with the hulking man in tow.
Caileann enters the courtyard through the large wooden gates from the forest outside the walls.
Ciaran frowns at the slight, his gaze narrowing. He seems about to make a retort, but better sense has him ignoring the address instead. He watches Isobeil walk away, quiet for a long moment before his attention drifts back to Mailduin. "How do you find this night, Ruaidhri?"
[Olmys(#32384)] The Fian Mailduin watches as Isobeil and her companion slink off, but his gaze lingers most upon the one called Egan.
"It goes well, goes well indeed," he says turning back to Ciaran. "Would find it even better if something unfortunate were to befall the brute over yonder," he says waving his hand in the direction Egan and Isobeil departed, and raising his voice so that it is sure to be heard by the bootlickers behind him.
"Settlin' in alright, then?" he asks turning back to Ciaran once more.
[Caileann(#20237)] The sound of a throat being cleared marks the arrival of grim-faced Caileann Ranich, striding out from the nearby tent and up behind his younger nephew, giving the two a bow of the head in respect. "Fian Mailduin. It is good to see that you remain well - you appear to have brought quite the crowd with you, and it caused me to wonder if you were not ill." the man will remark dryly before turning to Ciaran and clearing his throat again. "I spoke with the men, Fian - I could not find your new retainer, however."
"Aye, well enough. I can't complain. Are you having troubles with your daughter?" Ciaran lifts the mug to tip it back and finish off his drink, and as he's wiping the foam from his thin beard Caileann approaches. He gives the older man a nod of acknowledgement. "I'm sure Breveg will turn up. Ruaidhri, do you know my uncle, Caileann?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Ruaidhri goves a nod of greeting to the elder Ranich. "Ranich," he says in greeting. Then with a glance towards his brood he gives a snort. "Much to the dismay of my loving children, I am in fine health," he says with a smirk.
"When you've been around as long as I have, young Fian, you'll find that you've met everyone a time or two," he says to Ciaran. "Or at least think you have."
[Caileann(#20237)] "The Fian most likely remembers your father, and merely by association, myself." After a pause to cast an eye over the entourage, he will add "Have you found a place that suits you and your... Gathering, Fian Mailduin? Or are you making those who would be heir sleep elsewhere?"
Turning to Ciaran, he will comment "I have heard little as to the schedule of things here, but if there is one who would be knowledgeable about how things are done here, it would be the man who has likely seen it many times."
While these men are all talking, there's another that's taken interest in the conversation. A young boy with a shock of brown hair and a concentrated expression on his face is slowly creeping away from the entrance to the keep and approaching the group, routinely shifting his attention between watching those ahead and looking back over his shoulder for pursuit.
Ciaran turns his gaze to his uncle, a faint smile tugging at his lips for the warrior's words, and then looks back to Mailduin with a more serious expression. "That's a good point. Fian, do you know when the next meeting will be? In the morning?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Mailduin shifts the weight upon his cane slightly and gives a grunt. "A few of them are staying in my quarters," he replies to Cailean. "The rest are staying out in the tents with the other men. Don't like too many of them getting together, they start scheming together when they do."
He scratches at his beard as he turns towards Ciaran. "We're supposed to be meeting once more come the morning," he says with a nod. "I've little hope in it deciding anything, though. There's still no one who's gathered enough support."
"Perhaps there will be new developments. It's possible that once everyone has said what they wish to say, opinions might change." Ciaran shrugs, shifting his stance to lean slightly on the staff. "People whisper of war. That might urge a quicker decision as well. We can't be stuck in council if there's battle on the horizon."
Aeden Kavanagh continues slinking along the shadows but pauses when he hears the conversation, listening in with curiosity and a slight scowl to his young face. Rather abruptly he speaks up, "My father is Ceann and when he gets back none of this will mean anything! He's going to kill everyone that tried to get him replaced."
[Olmys(#32384)] Ruaidhri looks at the boy and then laughs softly as he shakes his head. "That will be quite the feat lad," he says. "Your grandfather know you're out sneakin' around?" he asks. "I doubt he shares your views concerning your father." He turns back towards Ciaran.
"Have you met Kavanagh as yet?" he asks. "The lad's grandfather?"
Aeden glances back towards the keep at the mention of Gabhran, but lifts his chin and walks closer to Mailduin. "My father will kill him too. He's the strongest warrior in Caerdh and he's going to come back with a hundred men that will storm in like demons." The child insists in a dramatic tone.
Ciaran watches the display with a wrinkled brow, then chuckles as well, returning his attention back to the other Fian. "No, I haven't. You said he was sitting back in the arguments, as you were?"
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"It seems to be a good evening to renew old ties."
Kedhern's younger brother, Diarmad, steps closer to the little gathering. "Nice to see that we are ah.." Diarmad pauses with his mouth still ajar when he sees Aeden. A beat later, he continues. "Are all getting along well, in these difficult times." He nods to all.
[Olmys(#32384)] "That can change really quick, Diarmad!" Rhuidhri says pointing his cane at the man. "Especially if you plan on coming over here and chewing my ear off about why you should be Ceann. I'll set the vultures on you to pick your bones clean if that's your intent, Kiern be damned if I won't."
He continues to scowl at the man as he lowers his cane back to the ground. "Have you met Diarmad yet, Ranich?" he asks Ciaran then. "Was his brother's brilliance that's put us in our current state."
He then turns to the young Aeden. "Hear that boy? Here's the one you ought be cursing and threatening. Was his family who caused all your problems."
Ciaran hands his empty beer mug off to a servant that passes by, lifting a brow as he watches the way the old Mailduin handles Diarmad with a smile tugging at his lips again. When one has little at stake in such gatherings, all the diplomacy (or lack thereof) can be entertaining. "Well met, Diarmad." The new Fian says with a nod, but his gaze strays back to the child. "Brodie was your father?"
Aeden snaps his attention over to Diarmad when the man joins the group, then looks back at Ruadhri and Ciaran. "My father isn't -dead-!" The boy insists, then asks in a more uncertain tone, "What do you mean?" He gazes back at Diarmad with a questioning expression on his face.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"I would not dare talk politics with you unless I have a shapely lass at my side to keep you distracted, Fian Maulduin," Diarmad says good-naturedly to the old coot. "Well met Ciaran! It has been a long time. Did you have a good harvest this year?"
His eyes flick down at the little boy. "Brodie's son, eh? Your father not only brought shame to the entire Bear clan but your mother is a murderer. If it weren't for your grandfather, your fate would be sealed." His gaze leaves Aeden's face and looks at Ciaran and Muldain again. "May the new Chieftain have mercy on him."
[Olmys(#32384)] "Ha ha!" Maulduin laughs in reply to Diarmaid's words. "If you had a shapely lass at your side, I'd have better things to do than listen to you blather on." He says and then barks again in laughter. "I'd watch your step around the lad there, Diarmad. Don't forget he's Kavanagh's heir now, piss him off too much and he might remember it when he becomes Fian. Might decide to come throw your wife and children out of their home."
He then turns back to Ciaran. "Speaking of shapely young lasses, are ye wed yet, Ranich?"
[Caileann(#20237)] "Enough of this." Caileann finally breaks his silence with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This boy should not even be out here, someone should have one of the servants send him back. It accomplishes little to antagonize him or throw insults at a dead man."
At the mention of 'Ranich' he will glance to Maulduin for a moment before it occurs to him that it is the younger Ranich being addressed, and will only nod slightly, letting his nephew answer for himself. If Maulduin's nature bothers him, he does a good job of concealing it, save for the occasional rolling of the eyes.
Ciaran chuckles when Mailduin asks of marriage and gives the old Fian a nod. "Aye, my wife stayed home to care for our son. He is still a babe, too young for travel." He looks back to Diarmad, "The harvest went well, thank you. We should have enough to make it through the winter." And plenty more, but those thoughts are unspoken.
The young Kavanagh gapes at Diarmad, his jaw dropping open. "What? My mother isn't a murderer! You should shut your mouth!" Aeden clenches his fists, glaring hard at the man.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Kavanagh's known to disown his own kin, no matter how thick the blood," Diarmad answers Mauldin. "He's a hard man to please. You have my sympathy, boy." A smile is tossed to Aeden as one would throw a scrap to a dog.
"I agree, Caileann. We have more pressing matters to discuss."
[Olmys(#32384)] The Maulduin gives a slight sigh of regret at the discovery of Ciaran's marriage. "Ah, well, give your wife my best when you return home then." He then turns to the uncle and lifts a brow questioningly.
"Do you be havin' a bride at home as well?" he asks. "If not let us see if we can't remedy that problem. Else I'm afraid we'll have to sit here and listen to Diarmaid get all windy about clan politics."
Caileann arches an eyebrow at the question, answering only after a moment has passed between them. "I am quite settled with a wife, Fian Maulduin - my sincerest apologies to whichever of your young kin needs to be removed from the herd. It seems that we shall have to settle for politics unless you aim to try and make a match with my nephew's infant child." With a mock shrug, he'll add "I do not think he would be well-suited for your kin - a bit young."
Aeden growls when Diarmad brushes him off. The boy loses his temper and rushes forward to swing a hard kick at the man's shin with a wordless yell. "You don't know anything!" He calls in a shrill voice, obviously acting out more than a bit from the turmoil of the last few weeks. (Or perhaps this is how Brodie raised his son?)
Ciaran grins in good humor to Mailduin, nodding. "I will tell her, Fian." He seems about to say more, but then the child is shrieking and the Ranich Fian aborts his statement.
[<#30997>] Another strolls forward to join the group, a young man in a dun cloak whose dark curling hair has been neatly tied at the nape of his neck. It is Ciaran whom he approaches, and his head dips in a brief nod as he murmurs to the man. "Good evening, Fian. Is there anything you were wanting?" His gaze flickers over the rest of the grouping, pausing on Aeden. His lips twitch for only an instant, then his face grows solemn and still.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
No stranger to a fight, Diarmad is. The kick is expected, though probably not the pain. The younger Kedhern winces but does nothing more than look down on Aeden.
"Did your father not teach you anything?" He glances over the gathered men before looking down on Aeden again. "You do not help your mother's plight by your behavior, boy. She awaits judgment from the Chieftain, and that could be any one of us. Your temper tantrums and brash behavior do not speak well for you, or your father. Do you understand?"
[Olmys(#32384)] "The lad's got a wicked temper like his father it seems," Maulduin says with a chuckle. "That's enough now, boy," he says then to Aeden. "If you don't want your grandfather finding out what you've been up to you best be runnin' along now. Otherwise I'm sure he'll have more than just words for you."
He then lets out a sigh as he looks to the Ranichs. "Well, it's inevitable," he says mournfully. "Diarmad is now gonna try and convince us that unlike his brother he's got more than porridge between his ears, and that he should be the next Ceann of Bear." He gives Diarmad a sour look and signs resignedly. "Just out of curiosity though how old is this son?" he asks.
Ciaran inclines his chin when Brev joins them, but doesn't say anything as he watches the situation with Diarmad and the Kavanagh child. Mailduin's question has the Fian looking at him with an incredulous expression. "-Very- young." He answers in a flat tone, frowning at the implication of his son being betrothed at infancy.
Aeden quickly draws back, already wincing as if he expected Diarmad to strike back at him for the kick. When the man doesn't, the child sucks in several heavy breaths as the lectures are laid down upon him. He looks around quickly at the threat of Gabhran hearing of the incident with real fear on his face, ever wary of his grandfather lurking nearby. The boy notices Brev and rather abruptly changes his attitude, "Maveg! You promised to take me hunting!"
[Caileann(#20237)] Brev's arrival only seems to warrant an almost imperceptible nod from the older Ranich before his attention returns to the old man. "Yes, far too young to have what hair is on his head greyed by a Maulduin, I would wager... Besides" he'll add with a nod to the crowd of bootlickers behind the elderly Fian, almost smiling "How would your dear kin respond to the news that there could be another contender? Perhaps we are better off listening to Diarmad after all... Though I am certain he would rather wait until tomorrow, when all are gathered...?"
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg listens to the discussion of the nobles in silence for a moment, his gaze slightly narrowed. At Aeden's outburst, however, he tilts a brow and turns to look behind him as though seeking the one the boy is addressing. Finding none, he blinks and returns his gaze to the lad. "Lad, who were you speaking to? It is not polite to interrupt men when they discuss matters of import."
[Olmys(#32384)] "Heh," Maulduin says with a laugh. "Don't you worry about that, Diarmad will indeed speak of it tomorrow at the meeting," he says with a smirk. "That however will not stop him from speaking of it tonight as well, I fear."
He purses his lips and fixes a questioning gaze on Diarmad. "I am still not sure if its a determination to make others understand, or if he just likes the sound of his own voice." He barks another laugh. "I'm thinking that latter, cause he usually swells up like a wee toad while speakin of it."
Ciaran gives Caileann a glance when his son is briefly the topic of conversation, an appreciative expression on his face when his uncle smoothes it over and changes the subject. "I have not heard any of it yet, I have much to catch up on."
Aeden falters, his confidence replaced with an expression of innocent confusion. "What?" He scrubs a hand in his hair, scratching at lice, most likely. "Why are you pretending you don't know me? You said we would go hunting.." Genuine disappointment washes over the child's face.
[Caileann(#20237)] "Child, be gone - there is no Maveg here," the stony-faced Caileann will chide, though fixing his gaze on Breveg rather than Aeden for just a moment "and this is no place for you. Leave us to ourselves and return inside, or your grandfather will have your hide."
Turning to Ciaran, he will shrug and remark plainly "If you do not hear it tonight, you will hear it many times over the next few days. Am I correct, Fian Maulduin? There will be more than one who wishes to be Ceann, and there will be some who merely like to be the centre of attention. If we are lucky, there will not be any tables overturned too early in the arguments."
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg frowns down at Aeden, imperceptily moving a little away as he pushes a few shining strands of dark curls from his eyes. "Lad, I think you mistake me for some other. As far as I am aware we have never been introduced. We can remedy that now, if you wish?" His voice is clear but quiet, pitched so as not to cut across the discussions of politics - or rather their avoidance. If any other than Diarmid intend to stand for the Ceannship, they are keeping very quiet about it.
[Olmys(#32384)] "Ha!" barks Maulduin once again. "If we are lucky the tables /will/ be overturned early," he says with a smirk. "Kiern save us if all we have for entertainment is long winded speeches and posturing."
The Kavanagh child shakes his head, "No.. I remember." Aeden looks around at all the men again, and it's at that moment that the door to the keep begins to creek open again. The child's face goes white as he looks over in alarm, then he dashes deeper into the courtyard to hide in the crowds before he has a chance to see whether it's Gabhran or not that's leaving the building. Better to not take chances.
Ciaran glances towards Brev, but only briefly before his attention goes back to the other nobles. He lets a slow smile form on his face, "It should be interesting, either way. I'm curious to hear the arguments, all the same." The new Fian gives a shrug, watching the child run off with only casual disinterest.
Caileann will mutter something about children and discipline as the boy makes a hasty retreat, but will show no other concern for the matter, not even following the child with his eyes as he disappears. "Oh? You are hoping for table-turning then, Fian Malduin? Perhaps you might lend the rest of us some of your heirs that we might /all/ have shields should things start flying."
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg watches with a quizzical expression as Aeden departs, then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "A most ... personable youngster," he murmurs, free now to return his attention to the nobles' conversation.
"I believe that in the past arguments have centred mainly on who had the largest army," he remarks quietly. "Tithes and border defences are seldom an issue of consideration."
Caillean's words bring a frown to his features. "Fian Ranich will have a shield," he states reprovingly.
[Olmys(#32384)] "Shields!" Maulduin roars with laughter. "If anytihng they will throw me into the path of the first table to leave the floor!" he gives another chuckle. "Shields indeed."
He scatches at his beard and shifts his weight upon his cane. "I say better table turning than . . ." he looks at Breveg as he speaks and nods. "Exactly!" he says with a nod. "None of the points that matter will even be discussed until someone rounds up enough swords to put them in the high seat."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"If only matters were that light-hearted as tossing tables.." Diarmad says grimly. "Putting aside the fact that my brother acted in haste, need I remind you that it is the army of Kedhern that holds the throat of the Wulf clan?"
Ranich laughs at the old Fianni's words of shields, but quickly the discussion turns serious again. "Perhaps that is why Caerdh is in the state that it is now.." Ciaran says softly, shaking his head. "Everyone keeps speaking that there was poor leadership with the past Ceanni. We should be choosing a leader for Caerdh, not the strongest army any one man controls."
He turns his gaze to his two men, "I'm turning in.. " Ciaran looks back to the other nobility. "Good evening." The parting words are spoken pleasantly enough, but there is a hint of irritation on the young Fian's face as he heads for the doors of the keep without further affair.
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin rolls his eyes. "Your brother acted in idiocy, not haste," he says with a snort. "But that be neither here or there. You be tryin' to convince me that unlike your brother, you weren't dropped on your head as a child, yet still be insisting the problem be the army in Redvyrne. That be no problem. Bring them home, the real problem be in these rumors in the north!"
[Caileann(#20237)] At his nephew's words, Caileann nods. "Perhaps it is best that we all turn in - when young men retire to rest before old men, it is an odd thing indeed. I will hold my personal opinions to myself for now, but there is wisdom to my Fian's words. A pleasant evening, sirs." Another wordless bow of the head is given to Breveg, though this time the older Ranich pauses longer as he looks at the man before following Ciaran in.
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg flicks a glance across at Diarmad. "As I said, matters of border defences ..." he remarks. He holds Caileann's gaze for a moment. "I think I will follow you soon," he offers, but makes no move to do so just yet, lingering to hear the answer to Mailduin's hinting.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"I've sent scouts up north, Fian Maulduin. But with the winter coming, news will not return swiftly." Diarmad lets out a troubled sigh. "Able bodied men are needed to protect the farmsteads. Have you heard? Those blasted rebels have turned into bandits. It is bad enough that we have the normal thieves at this time of year, but we now have rebels to contend with. Rebels. I say we start calling them Outlaws."
A glance is given to Brev with an approving nod. "That's right. Anyone's who's ever tried feeding an army knows, it takes leadership to maintain an army. Larger the army, the better the leader he must be." He looks over at Fian Maulduin. "Now, should we start taking wagers on who will be the first to turn over the table?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin lifts his cane and points it towards Diarmad. "It's these rebels that need dealt with!" he says in agreement. "It's them that's caused the trouble in Redvyrne, in Laeg, and now in the north. It's these rebels that came into our home and murdered your brother. Idiot or not he was still our chosen leader." He settles his cane back to the ground and begins to lumber off slowly. "Sleep on that, Diarmad. Not what are we to do about the army in Redvyrne, but what are we to do about the safety and wellbeing of our own people when this son of I'racil comes for revenge?"
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg listens to the two older men debate with nary a word, his glance flickering between the pair. "I, for one, have better things to do than looking for rebels," he states at last. "Like sleep. But I'm sure Fian Ranich would be most concerned to hear of any threat to his lands." With a half-smile on his lips, he nods politely to Diarmad and moves off, in a different direction to Maulduin.
[Gabhran(#15443)] "What could you be doing that is more important than eliminating threat to our clan, young Breveg?"
Diarmad does not pursue the question any further than his voice carries it. He turns to Maulduin and says with a smile, "If the size of the army determines the Ceanship, then by looking at your brood, put them in armor, and you are our newest Chieftain!"
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin rolls his eyes as one of his brood opens the door for him. "Kierm save me from that," he says with a smirk. "The vultures are bad enough as it is, if their were a Ceannship involved . . . ." he shaeks his head and slips off through the door.
Speculations of war is in the air. Fortunately, the games keep the nervous tension and energy focused on friendly competition instead of airing old feuds. The games are continuing into the night, and the Keep is lit with torches.
While there are a few women about, most are wives of Fians who remain inside and help with the cooking, serving, cleaning and generally watching over the gathering. They seem tired after serving supper, yet most of them gather at the well to wash the mountain of dishes and pots in preparation for the next meal.
Except one.
The Mother of the young Fian Alois Odhran paces the courtyard in a remote corner while her companion smokes a pipe, seated on the ground.
[Olmys(#32384)] There is no sneaking up, someone would have to be deaf not to hear the braying and bickering of the herd following in Fian Mailduin's wake. When one of the various offspring breaks off his arguing long enough to warn Mailduin before the Fian can step in a puddle the Fian looks at him speculatively.
"Which one are you now?" he asks. He then waves a hand dismissing the question. "It makes no matter. Go tell the other vultures that I've made you heir, while I go speak with your sister."
He turns then and steps towards the pacing woman. "Daughter," he says in greeting.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Isobeil."
The woman smiles back at the lurching man with the usual cacophony of sons, grandsons, nephews and nieces buzzing about him like flies on a carcass.
"Isobeil. My name is Isobeil. I was your favorite three winters ago." Her volume rises in pitch, perhaps to compensate for the old man's loss of hearing, or perhaps to make sure the various leeches hear her voice.
"Your grandson Alois is now the Fian, since my husband died. You remember, don't you? How you married me off to that man older than yourself?"
The Fian of Ranich isn't far, and is making his way out of one of the tents while laughing and holding his staff in one hand and a wooden mug of some drink in the other. Once free of the tent and the people within he lets out a slow breath and pauses to catch his bearings before walking at a leisurely pace towards the keep, and the herd of Mailduin in front of it.
[Olmys(#32384)] With a snort Mailduin lifts his cane and shakes it angrily at his daughter. "Don't raise your voice at me little lassie," he says angrily. "I've not lost my hearing yet."
He looks her up and down for a moment as he lowers the cane back to the ground. "Yes, I remember you now. Wicked little thing you were, had to get you out of Cragh na Dunn before you killed off the whole brood, heh."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Something none of your sons have the backbone to do." Isobeil retorts smartly, then directs a warning smile at the collection of copper-headed offsprings, arching her brow victoriously. She directs her gaze at a particularly young girl. "I could easily kill you. He married me off to a dying old man. Who's to say I didn't kill him? I could easily kill you too. What is wrong with another sin? I ask you. Hmm?" She takes a step forward to the little girl, in hopes of making her either wet her pants or run away crying.
But the wicked look is gone, and she smiles cordially at her father.
"I will be sitting at the Council, of course. Alois is much too young."
Ciaran stops when he nears the group, casually taking another sip from the mug while he watches the little reunion between the Mailduin folk. The Fian from the farming community has been rather aloof since arriving, keeping his conversation light and good-natured most of the time.
He seems to be alone, his usual retainers elsewhere for the moment, or perhaps back in the tent not yet caught up. But then, it is the middle of the courtyard right before the keep, so hopefully the Fian has little to fear in such a public location.. and why would anyone want him dead?
He waits for a pause in the conversation, then inclines his head in a nod to the group. "Good eve." He greets mildly, as if he didn't just hear the threatening exchange.
[Olmys(#32384)] Mailduin sighs sadly and nods. "Aye, if only you'd been born with a cock, Izzy," he says. "I'd have had an heir I could of been proud of," he snorts and shakes his head. "Unfortunately you weren't and the law prohibits me from making you my heir. That same law also says that now that your husband has passed on you now fall back under my protection."
He rises an eyebrow and looks at her for a moment. "I'll not force the issue, to show you that I still care I'll allow you to go speak your piece to the Council. I can think of a few who'll be absolutely thrilled by your presence." He gives her a mocking smile and then turns towards Ciaran.
"Ahh! The boy Fian," he says. "Good eve to you as well."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
The brooding presence behind Izzy begins to stir but she flips her head. "Not now, Egan."
She then turns back to her father and the approaching Fian. "I must go see to Alois. Father, I am sure we will be talking more later."
The young mother of Alois Odhran saunters back towards the Keep, with the hulking man in tow.
Caileann enters the courtyard through the large wooden gates from the forest outside the walls.
Ciaran frowns at the slight, his gaze narrowing. He seems about to make a retort, but better sense has him ignoring the address instead. He watches Isobeil walk away, quiet for a long moment before his attention drifts back to Mailduin. "How do you find this night, Ruaidhri?"
[Olmys(#32384)] The Fian Mailduin watches as Isobeil and her companion slink off, but his gaze lingers most upon the one called Egan.
"It goes well, goes well indeed," he says turning back to Ciaran. "Would find it even better if something unfortunate were to befall the brute over yonder," he says waving his hand in the direction Egan and Isobeil departed, and raising his voice so that it is sure to be heard by the bootlickers behind him.
"Settlin' in alright, then?" he asks turning back to Ciaran once more.
[Caileann(#20237)] The sound of a throat being cleared marks the arrival of grim-faced Caileann Ranich, striding out from the nearby tent and up behind his younger nephew, giving the two a bow of the head in respect. "Fian Mailduin. It is good to see that you remain well - you appear to have brought quite the crowd with you, and it caused me to wonder if you were not ill." the man will remark dryly before turning to Ciaran and clearing his throat again. "I spoke with the men, Fian - I could not find your new retainer, however."
"Aye, well enough. I can't complain. Are you having troubles with your daughter?" Ciaran lifts the mug to tip it back and finish off his drink, and as he's wiping the foam from his thin beard Caileann approaches. He gives the older man a nod of acknowledgement. "I'm sure Breveg will turn up. Ruaidhri, do you know my uncle, Caileann?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Ruaidhri goves a nod of greeting to the elder Ranich. "Ranich," he says in greeting. Then with a glance towards his brood he gives a snort. "Much to the dismay of my loving children, I am in fine health," he says with a smirk.
"When you've been around as long as I have, young Fian, you'll find that you've met everyone a time or two," he says to Ciaran. "Or at least think you have."
[Caileann(#20237)] "The Fian most likely remembers your father, and merely by association, myself." After a pause to cast an eye over the entourage, he will add "Have you found a place that suits you and your... Gathering, Fian Mailduin? Or are you making those who would be heir sleep elsewhere?"
Turning to Ciaran, he will comment "I have heard little as to the schedule of things here, but if there is one who would be knowledgeable about how things are done here, it would be the man who has likely seen it many times."
While these men are all talking, there's another that's taken interest in the conversation. A young boy with a shock of brown hair and a concentrated expression on his face is slowly creeping away from the entrance to the keep and approaching the group, routinely shifting his attention between watching those ahead and looking back over his shoulder for pursuit.
Ciaran turns his gaze to his uncle, a faint smile tugging at his lips for the warrior's words, and then looks back to Mailduin with a more serious expression. "That's a good point. Fian, do you know when the next meeting will be? In the morning?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Mailduin shifts the weight upon his cane slightly and gives a grunt. "A few of them are staying in my quarters," he replies to Cailean. "The rest are staying out in the tents with the other men. Don't like too many of them getting together, they start scheming together when they do."
He scratches at his beard as he turns towards Ciaran. "We're supposed to be meeting once more come the morning," he says with a nod. "I've little hope in it deciding anything, though. There's still no one who's gathered enough support."
"Perhaps there will be new developments. It's possible that once everyone has said what they wish to say, opinions might change." Ciaran shrugs, shifting his stance to lean slightly on the staff. "People whisper of war. That might urge a quicker decision as well. We can't be stuck in council if there's battle on the horizon."
Aeden Kavanagh continues slinking along the shadows but pauses when he hears the conversation, listening in with curiosity and a slight scowl to his young face. Rather abruptly he speaks up, "My father is Ceann and when he gets back none of this will mean anything! He's going to kill everyone that tried to get him replaced."
[Olmys(#32384)] Ruaidhri looks at the boy and then laughs softly as he shakes his head. "That will be quite the feat lad," he says. "Your grandfather know you're out sneakin' around?" he asks. "I doubt he shares your views concerning your father." He turns back towards Ciaran.
"Have you met Kavanagh as yet?" he asks. "The lad's grandfather?"
Aeden glances back towards the keep at the mention of Gabhran, but lifts his chin and walks closer to Mailduin. "My father will kill him too. He's the strongest warrior in Caerdh and he's going to come back with a hundred men that will storm in like demons." The child insists in a dramatic tone.
Ciaran watches the display with a wrinkled brow, then chuckles as well, returning his attention back to the other Fian. "No, I haven't. You said he was sitting back in the arguments, as you were?"
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"It seems to be a good evening to renew old ties."
Kedhern's younger brother, Diarmad, steps closer to the little gathering. "Nice to see that we are ah.." Diarmad pauses with his mouth still ajar when he sees Aeden. A beat later, he continues. "Are all getting along well, in these difficult times." He nods to all.
[Olmys(#32384)] "That can change really quick, Diarmad!" Rhuidhri says pointing his cane at the man. "Especially if you plan on coming over here and chewing my ear off about why you should be Ceann. I'll set the vultures on you to pick your bones clean if that's your intent, Kiern be damned if I won't."
He continues to scowl at the man as he lowers his cane back to the ground. "Have you met Diarmad yet, Ranich?" he asks Ciaran then. "Was his brother's brilliance that's put us in our current state."
He then turns to the young Aeden. "Hear that boy? Here's the one you ought be cursing and threatening. Was his family who caused all your problems."
Ciaran hands his empty beer mug off to a servant that passes by, lifting a brow as he watches the way the old Mailduin handles Diarmad with a smile tugging at his lips again. When one has little at stake in such gatherings, all the diplomacy (or lack thereof) can be entertaining. "Well met, Diarmad." The new Fian says with a nod, but his gaze strays back to the child. "Brodie was your father?"
Aeden snaps his attention over to Diarmad when the man joins the group, then looks back at Ruadhri and Ciaran. "My father isn't -dead-!" The boy insists, then asks in a more uncertain tone, "What do you mean?" He gazes back at Diarmad with a questioning expression on his face.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"I would not dare talk politics with you unless I have a shapely lass at my side to keep you distracted, Fian Maulduin," Diarmad says good-naturedly to the old coot. "Well met Ciaran! It has been a long time. Did you have a good harvest this year?"
His eyes flick down at the little boy. "Brodie's son, eh? Your father not only brought shame to the entire Bear clan but your mother is a murderer. If it weren't for your grandfather, your fate would be sealed." His gaze leaves Aeden's face and looks at Ciaran and Muldain again. "May the new Chieftain have mercy on him."
[Olmys(#32384)] "Ha ha!" Maulduin laughs in reply to Diarmaid's words. "If you had a shapely lass at your side, I'd have better things to do than listen to you blather on." He says and then barks again in laughter. "I'd watch your step around the lad there, Diarmad. Don't forget he's Kavanagh's heir now, piss him off too much and he might remember it when he becomes Fian. Might decide to come throw your wife and children out of their home."
He then turns back to Ciaran. "Speaking of shapely young lasses, are ye wed yet, Ranich?"
[Caileann(#20237)] "Enough of this." Caileann finally breaks his silence with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This boy should not even be out here, someone should have one of the servants send him back. It accomplishes little to antagonize him or throw insults at a dead man."
At the mention of 'Ranich' he will glance to Maulduin for a moment before it occurs to him that it is the younger Ranich being addressed, and will only nod slightly, letting his nephew answer for himself. If Maulduin's nature bothers him, he does a good job of concealing it, save for the occasional rolling of the eyes.
Ciaran chuckles when Mailduin asks of marriage and gives the old Fian a nod. "Aye, my wife stayed home to care for our son. He is still a babe, too young for travel." He looks back to Diarmad, "The harvest went well, thank you. We should have enough to make it through the winter." And plenty more, but those thoughts are unspoken.
The young Kavanagh gapes at Diarmad, his jaw dropping open. "What? My mother isn't a murderer! You should shut your mouth!" Aeden clenches his fists, glaring hard at the man.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"Kavanagh's known to disown his own kin, no matter how thick the blood," Diarmad answers Mauldin. "He's a hard man to please. You have my sympathy, boy." A smile is tossed to Aeden as one would throw a scrap to a dog.
"I agree, Caileann. We have more pressing matters to discuss."
[Olmys(#32384)] The Maulduin gives a slight sigh of regret at the discovery of Ciaran's marriage. "Ah, well, give your wife my best when you return home then." He then turns to the uncle and lifts a brow questioningly.
"Do you be havin' a bride at home as well?" he asks. "If not let us see if we can't remedy that problem. Else I'm afraid we'll have to sit here and listen to Diarmaid get all windy about clan politics."
Caileann arches an eyebrow at the question, answering only after a moment has passed between them. "I am quite settled with a wife, Fian Maulduin - my sincerest apologies to whichever of your young kin needs to be removed from the herd. It seems that we shall have to settle for politics unless you aim to try and make a match with my nephew's infant child." With a mock shrug, he'll add "I do not think he would be well-suited for your kin - a bit young."
Aeden growls when Diarmad brushes him off. The boy loses his temper and rushes forward to swing a hard kick at the man's shin with a wordless yell. "You don't know anything!" He calls in a shrill voice, obviously acting out more than a bit from the turmoil of the last few weeks. (Or perhaps this is how Brodie raised his son?)
Ciaran grins in good humor to Mailduin, nodding. "I will tell her, Fian." He seems about to say more, but then the child is shrieking and the Ranich Fian aborts his statement.
[<#30997>] Another strolls forward to join the group, a young man in a dun cloak whose dark curling hair has been neatly tied at the nape of his neck. It is Ciaran whom he approaches, and his head dips in a brief nod as he murmurs to the man. "Good evening, Fian. Is there anything you were wanting?" His gaze flickers over the rest of the grouping, pausing on Aeden. His lips twitch for only an instant, then his face grows solemn and still.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
No stranger to a fight, Diarmad is. The kick is expected, though probably not the pain. The younger Kedhern winces but does nothing more than look down on Aeden.
"Did your father not teach you anything?" He glances over the gathered men before looking down on Aeden again. "You do not help your mother's plight by your behavior, boy. She awaits judgment from the Chieftain, and that could be any one of us. Your temper tantrums and brash behavior do not speak well for you, or your father. Do you understand?"
[Olmys(#32384)] "The lad's got a wicked temper like his father it seems," Maulduin says with a chuckle. "That's enough now, boy," he says then to Aeden. "If you don't want your grandfather finding out what you've been up to you best be runnin' along now. Otherwise I'm sure he'll have more than just words for you."
He then lets out a sigh as he looks to the Ranichs. "Well, it's inevitable," he says mournfully. "Diarmad is now gonna try and convince us that unlike his brother he's got more than porridge between his ears, and that he should be the next Ceann of Bear." He gives Diarmad a sour look and signs resignedly. "Just out of curiosity though how old is this son?" he asks.
Ciaran inclines his chin when Brev joins them, but doesn't say anything as he watches the situation with Diarmad and the Kavanagh child. Mailduin's question has the Fian looking at him with an incredulous expression. "-Very- young." He answers in a flat tone, frowning at the implication of his son being betrothed at infancy.
Aeden quickly draws back, already wincing as if he expected Diarmad to strike back at him for the kick. When the man doesn't, the child sucks in several heavy breaths as the lectures are laid down upon him. He looks around quickly at the threat of Gabhran hearing of the incident with real fear on his face, ever wary of his grandfather lurking nearby. The boy notices Brev and rather abruptly changes his attitude, "Maveg! You promised to take me hunting!"
[Caileann(#20237)] Brev's arrival only seems to warrant an almost imperceptible nod from the older Ranich before his attention returns to the old man. "Yes, far too young to have what hair is on his head greyed by a Maulduin, I would wager... Besides" he'll add with a nod to the crowd of bootlickers behind the elderly Fian, almost smiling "How would your dear kin respond to the news that there could be another contender? Perhaps we are better off listening to Diarmad after all... Though I am certain he would rather wait until tomorrow, when all are gathered...?"
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg listens to the discussion of the nobles in silence for a moment, his gaze slightly narrowed. At Aeden's outburst, however, he tilts a brow and turns to look behind him as though seeking the one the boy is addressing. Finding none, he blinks and returns his gaze to the lad. "Lad, who were you speaking to? It is not polite to interrupt men when they discuss matters of import."
[Olmys(#32384)] "Heh," Maulduin says with a laugh. "Don't you worry about that, Diarmad will indeed speak of it tomorrow at the meeting," he says with a smirk. "That however will not stop him from speaking of it tonight as well, I fear."
He purses his lips and fixes a questioning gaze on Diarmad. "I am still not sure if its a determination to make others understand, or if he just likes the sound of his own voice." He barks another laugh. "I'm thinking that latter, cause he usually swells up like a wee toad while speakin of it."
Ciaran gives Caileann a glance when his son is briefly the topic of conversation, an appreciative expression on his face when his uncle smoothes it over and changes the subject. "I have not heard any of it yet, I have much to catch up on."
Aeden falters, his confidence replaced with an expression of innocent confusion. "What?" He scrubs a hand in his hair, scratching at lice, most likely. "Why are you pretending you don't know me? You said we would go hunting.." Genuine disappointment washes over the child's face.
[Caileann(#20237)] "Child, be gone - there is no Maveg here," the stony-faced Caileann will chide, though fixing his gaze on Breveg rather than Aeden for just a moment "and this is no place for you. Leave us to ourselves and return inside, or your grandfather will have your hide."
Turning to Ciaran, he will shrug and remark plainly "If you do not hear it tonight, you will hear it many times over the next few days. Am I correct, Fian Maulduin? There will be more than one who wishes to be Ceann, and there will be some who merely like to be the centre of attention. If we are lucky, there will not be any tables overturned too early in the arguments."
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg frowns down at Aeden, imperceptily moving a little away as he pushes a few shining strands of dark curls from his eyes. "Lad, I think you mistake me for some other. As far as I am aware we have never been introduced. We can remedy that now, if you wish?" His voice is clear but quiet, pitched so as not to cut across the discussions of politics - or rather their avoidance. If any other than Diarmid intend to stand for the Ceannship, they are keeping very quiet about it.
[Olmys(#32384)] "Ha!" barks Maulduin once again. "If we are lucky the tables /will/ be overturned early," he says with a smirk. "Kiern save us if all we have for entertainment is long winded speeches and posturing."
The Kavanagh child shakes his head, "No.. I remember." Aeden looks around at all the men again, and it's at that moment that the door to the keep begins to creek open again. The child's face goes white as he looks over in alarm, then he dashes deeper into the courtyard to hide in the crowds before he has a chance to see whether it's Gabhran or not that's leaving the building. Better to not take chances.
Ciaran glances towards Brev, but only briefly before his attention goes back to the other nobles. He lets a slow smile form on his face, "It should be interesting, either way. I'm curious to hear the arguments, all the same." The new Fian gives a shrug, watching the child run off with only casual disinterest.
Caileann will mutter something about children and discipline as the boy makes a hasty retreat, but will show no other concern for the matter, not even following the child with his eyes as he disappears. "Oh? You are hoping for table-turning then, Fian Malduin? Perhaps you might lend the rest of us some of your heirs that we might /all/ have shields should things start flying."
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg watches with a quizzical expression as Aeden departs, then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "A most ... personable youngster," he murmurs, free now to return his attention to the nobles' conversation.
"I believe that in the past arguments have centred mainly on who had the largest army," he remarks quietly. "Tithes and border defences are seldom an issue of consideration."
Caillean's words bring a frown to his features. "Fian Ranich will have a shield," he states reprovingly.
[Olmys(#32384)] "Shields!" Maulduin roars with laughter. "If anytihng they will throw me into the path of the first table to leave the floor!" he gives another chuckle. "Shields indeed."
He scatches at his beard and shifts his weight upon his cane. "I say better table turning than . . ." he looks at Breveg as he speaks and nods. "Exactly!" he says with a nod. "None of the points that matter will even be discussed until someone rounds up enough swords to put them in the high seat."
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"If only matters were that light-hearted as tossing tables.." Diarmad says grimly. "Putting aside the fact that my brother acted in haste, need I remind you that it is the army of Kedhern that holds the throat of the Wulf clan?"
Ranich laughs at the old Fianni's words of shields, but quickly the discussion turns serious again. "Perhaps that is why Caerdh is in the state that it is now.." Ciaran says softly, shaking his head. "Everyone keeps speaking that there was poor leadership with the past Ceanni. We should be choosing a leader for Caerdh, not the strongest army any one man controls."
He turns his gaze to his two men, "I'm turning in.. " Ciaran looks back to the other nobility. "Good evening." The parting words are spoken pleasantly enough, but there is a hint of irritation on the young Fian's face as he heads for the doors of the keep without further affair.
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin rolls his eyes. "Your brother acted in idiocy, not haste," he says with a snort. "But that be neither here or there. You be tryin' to convince me that unlike your brother, you weren't dropped on your head as a child, yet still be insisting the problem be the army in Redvyrne. That be no problem. Bring them home, the real problem be in these rumors in the north!"
[Caileann(#20237)] At his nephew's words, Caileann nods. "Perhaps it is best that we all turn in - when young men retire to rest before old men, it is an odd thing indeed. I will hold my personal opinions to myself for now, but there is wisdom to my Fian's words. A pleasant evening, sirs." Another wordless bow of the head is given to Breveg, though this time the older Ranich pauses longer as he looks at the man before following Ciaran in.
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg flicks a glance across at Diarmad. "As I said, matters of border defences ..." he remarks. He holds Caileann's gaze for a moment. "I think I will follow you soon," he offers, but makes no move to do so just yet, lingering to hear the answer to Mailduin's hinting.
[Gabhran(#15443)]
"I've sent scouts up north, Fian Maulduin. But with the winter coming, news will not return swiftly." Diarmad lets out a troubled sigh. "Able bodied men are needed to protect the farmsteads. Have you heard? Those blasted rebels have turned into bandits. It is bad enough that we have the normal thieves at this time of year, but we now have rebels to contend with. Rebels. I say we start calling them Outlaws."
A glance is given to Brev with an approving nod. "That's right. Anyone's who's ever tried feeding an army knows, it takes leadership to maintain an army. Larger the army, the better the leader he must be." He looks over at Fian Maulduin. "Now, should we start taking wagers on who will be the first to turn over the table?"
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin lifts his cane and points it towards Diarmad. "It's these rebels that need dealt with!" he says in agreement. "It's them that's caused the trouble in Redvyrne, in Laeg, and now in the north. It's these rebels that came into our home and murdered your brother. Idiot or not he was still our chosen leader." He settles his cane back to the ground and begins to lumber off slowly. "Sleep on that, Diarmad. Not what are we to do about the army in Redvyrne, but what are we to do about the safety and wellbeing of our own people when this son of I'racil comes for revenge?"
[Brev(#30997)] Breveg listens to the two older men debate with nary a word, his glance flickering between the pair. "I, for one, have better things to do than looking for rebels," he states at last. "Like sleep. But I'm sure Fian Ranich would be most concerned to hear of any threat to his lands." With a half-smile on his lips, he nods politely to Diarmad and moves off, in a different direction to Maulduin.
[Gabhran(#15443)] "What could you be doing that is more important than eliminating threat to our clan, young Breveg?"
Diarmad does not pursue the question any further than his voice carries it. He turns to Maulduin and says with a smile, "If the size of the army determines the Ceanship, then by looking at your brood, put them in armor, and you are our newest Chieftain!"
[Olmys(#32384)] Maulduin rolls his eyes as one of his brood opens the door for him. "Kierm save me from that," he says with a smirk. "The vultures are bad enough as it is, if their were a Ceannship involved . . . ." he shaeks his head and slips off through the door.
Players: Brev, Ciaran, Cailean, Diarmad, Aeden, Mailduin
Located in: Dunlending
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