Ireland Log

"The Hills of Connemara"

Chronicle Log

Prelude	Game 1	Game 2

Prelude

You are Gavin McGrath, son of Siobhan. You’ve lived in America all of your sixteen years, but you claim no town as your home. You call a small weekender trailer your house, with a driveway that stretches to the horizon. You know nothing of your father, save the occasional bitter words thrown at you whenever you pressed your mother too hard for information. But you know Siobhan grew up in Ireland, for you hear it in the lilt of her voice and in the stories she tells. And you see the loss of it in her eyes. Your mother is hard and determined, but in lonely moments you see the grief that gnaws at her, grief for a loss she will not speak of. Bearing that pain, and carrying for a child in the Traveler’s way, has aged her, threaded her black tresses with grey, deepened the lines in a face too young for the miles its seen. You inherited her determination; you suspect your quick temper comes from your nameless father, and judging by your ma’s sharp rebukes when your jaw clenches and your fists ball, it may be part of the reason she left.

Your earliest memories were of her singing the Old Songs, in a language you learned before you understood English. She made a bare living telling stories of heroes and gods at schools and museums and fairs. The storytelling fairs were your favorite. In the Appalachians she traveled from one gathering to another, and you listened to bands that stirred your heart as no “alternative” band could. And when your mother spoke to the crowd, you’d be close at hand with a cap that, if you were fortunate, filled with enough cash for a couple weeks of gas money. That ended when you were ten. In the mid afternoon, she grabbed your hand and dragged you to the truck, snapping at you when you asked why. Though she toured other festivals, she never strayed within the shadow of the mountains again. Times were harder after that.

She raised you as a Catholic, but Masses were sporadic; you never saw the same priest twice, and sometimes the stretch between confessions was alarmingly long. Your Ma seemed to have a strange relationship with the Almighty, praying faithfully for a while, then crying and cursing Him; after which they didn’t speak for weeks.

As time went on, you grew restless – surprising, considering travel was all you had ever known, in a truck that never spent more than a fortnight in one place. With no friends to cover your back, you had to get tough and quick. There was no point in complaining about your bruises, or your pinched belly during the dry spells between gigs. But you remembered every hardship, and you started to blame your nameless, faceless father. ‘Twas clear he was the reason for your exile, the reason you and your poor but proud mother had to work so hard to keep body and soul together in your friendless existence. You felt like you were destined for more, but something or someone took that fate from you.

You found an outlet for your anger with a farrier in Kentucky, who showed you a bit of his craft. Since then, you sought out smiths of various sorts at festivals, farms, and racetracks, honing your already considerable talents. Beating the metal to create works of function and beauty was more productive (if not quite as satisfying) as beating the punks who sneered at the homeless drifter.

You just spent a winter in far south Georgia and Florida, helping a couple of farriers while your mother told stories for a cultural anthropology student from Gainesville. Last night, you spent the afternoon on a ranch, cleaning up a tack room – the rent for a shower and the space to park your trailer. As you walked back to your home-on-wheels, you heard crying. The sun was low, but half-blinded, you thought you saw a beautiful woman watching you in the grove, her cheeks bright with tears. Your own eyes watered with the glare, but when you wiped them the vision was gone. A foreboding was upon you, but it left your mind when you reached the trailer – one of the balding tires had gone flat, which meant more effort for your tired muscles, and more carefully hoarded cash going to the damn vehicle rather than food or the rare luxuries like comics or a movie.

The next morning saw a full tire in the Chevy bed as the two of you headed back from the garage in Ocala. It was a trip of cold silence and heated words, but when it was clear that the worn tire could be cheaply patched (against the mechanic’s better judgment), the mood lightened considerably. To celebrate, your Ma treated you both to lunch in town, and you even sang together along the way. You remember her smiling at you as she clicked the blinker to turn off the highway. That smile is etched into your mind.

Your next memories were no more than muddled impressions – noise, grief, rage, pain. The first clear memory was of you, naked and hair-singed, holding the limp form of your mother in your lap. The Chevy was on its side, steaming and half submerged in the ditch. The crumpled bed, the shattered windows, the spattered blood, the missing door – it all failed to register in your numbed brain. Your eyes followed the black lines along the pavement, leading to the jackknifed log truck which blocked the highway a hundred yards away. It didn’t mean anything to your mind, but the grief began to settle around your heart. Details and images came and went, but they didn’t matter: the police, the ambulance, the tow-truck; people talking to you, spraying paint on the road, more questions. Finally you told them all what they could do with themselves, and dared them to argue. Instead, one intelligent-looking fellow offered to take you home, and did you have any family to contact? The questions struck you as darkly funny, for home was wherever you were at sunset, and your mother was all the family you had ever known. They all shook their heads when you started laughing, but when you were yourself again you pointed down the dirt road. He took you to the farm, gave you some cards (investigator, a social worker, some others, but you didn’t really look), said some more crap, and left you standing in a borrowed raincoat. Left you standing in front of a small, battered trailer with one axle propped up by blocks.

* * * * *

The inside is just how you remembered it. A dim den, with the scent of gas, and grease, and sweat. . . and her. Small, cramped, but now so empty. Your eyes drift over to small chest under the fold-down table; the chest she warned you many times never to open. The chest you were sure was opened on the evenings you heard her sobbing behind the locked door. The chest that, after a few years, you had come to regard as just another part of your home, no more worthy of special notice than the floor. Now it seems to draw your gaze. You know she always wore a key around her neck. But you also know she has a small jar with spare keys to the truck and trailer hidden in the closet. With a little rooting around, you find one to fit the tiny lock. You set the bound wooden chest on the table. The lock snicks open, and you lift the lid.

Items in the Chest, in order from top to bottom:

Blouse, green, neatly folded; Worry stone, dark greenish; Faded 3x5 Color Photo: 2 pretty girls with long hair, very similar in appearance, probably early teens, smiling, standing on a grassy hill. In the left hand side appears to be a white 1 story house with a thatched roof; 5x9 Color Photo: 30ish woman, tall man, 2 young (10ish) girls. In formal pose, wearing Sunday finery; Letter in an unsealed envelope addressed to a Michael McGrath in Cashel, Co. Galway, Ireland. Includes a picture of Gavin, aged 2; Linen tablecloth, white, folded; Sweater, dark green, wool; Snuff Box containing loose, dried peat; Pendant: 3”x1.5” pendant, probably antler or maybe bone, with a silver inlay design (crescent with a “tail”) on a cloth cord; Manila Envelope containing mother’s legal papers from Ireland, and bills and coins amounting to approx 43 Irish Pounds.

Game 1: "The Hills of Connemara"

Game date: 2/25/03

Real date: 8/13/05

NPCs met: Freighter crew, Thea and Mairtin Brosnan, and some werewolves near Recess.

Synopsis: Gavin sells his trailer for half a grand, and after making a few more arrangements, he takes a bus to Jacksonville. In his pack are some clothes, a sawed-off shotgun, photos and letters from his mother’s chest. Also in the pack is a small urn with his mother’s ashes, and around his neck is the strange amulet. After staying in an ultra-cheap motel, he walks a few miles to the port. The lady at the port authority office directs him to the Tybee Tina, bound for Ireland. The 1^st Mate sends him to Captain Morris, a grizzled man of 50 who grills the boy ( “are you running from the law?” and “how old are you?” and “have you ever been to sea?” and “are you willing to work hard?”, etc), but $150 (for food) and a promise to work hard earns Gavin a berth.

The trip takes 11 days, with some fairly rough weather for the middle 5 (seasickness is guaranteed). On the 7^th day, the crescent moon peeps out, and when Gavin sees it he gets a rush, coming away with a nervous tension that has him pacing for hours. The next night, and the two after that, he has strange dreams:

Dreams

1- Hazy, dim. Mother’s voice, soothingly singing “The Lady of the Woods.” You see your mother with a sad smile, rocking you in her lap. In the trailer window, you see the face of a beautiful woman watching you; then she’s gone.

2 – You see your mother – not Siobhan, but your Mother nonetheless – standing naked. In the dream perspective, you know she is huge, maybe 100 tall or more. She smiles as she walks toward you, but there is a tear in her eye. Then you notice, at a spot on her left hip, the skin puckers and blackens. On her right shoulder, you see filament like a spider web begin to spread. The black, rotting flesh spreads, and her left leg bows and twists; while her right arm is fixed and immobile beneath the strands. Other spots and webs begin to appear on her body, so that putrefying, twisted flesh rots next to perfect, plastic skin. “It is almost too late. Will you try?” she says.

3 – A cold mist swirls around you. It dissipates, and you are on a plain. On a boulder sits a tall blonde man wearing plaid trousers and spiraling tattoos on his chest and arms, with an oblong shield at his feet and a spear resting against his hip. Another spear rests in his hand, and in his lap is a horn. He smiles at you.

“Sedna I am, who could sing strength into the exhausted arm, and hope into the forlorn heart. And I must say, It took ye’ long enough, now get in the fight!” He tosses the spear to you, and you catch it, and wake.

Belfast

On the last day, the coast of Ireland can be seen in the far distance, though it is often lost in mist. The following morning, the Tina steams into the harbor, and by noon they are moored. Mid-afternoon has them unloaded; the captain is impressed enough to give him his $150 back, as “wages.”

So, the teenager strikes out alone on the teeming streets of Belfast. It’s a little less than 50 degrees. People, noise, smells crowd in on him. He eventually finds an information station, gets all his money changed into the local currency at the Bureau de change (unfortunate, since he gets pounds, and the Republic uses euros) and comes away with a couple of maps. Then he scents blood over all the other odors. He sees a trail of drops on the pavement. Along a market street, he spys a very pretty woman carrying some shopping bags. She wears a tweed skirt, sweater and a tam. And a circular wound on the back of her hand is oozing blood (both hands, actually, and both feet as well); she doesn’t notice them, but once she does, she will quickly get out of sight until she can hide the stigmata. If Gavin offers her assistance, she will slip him a few pounds and ask him to go to a shop on the corner and get some handkerchiefs.

Once all that is taken care of, Thea introduces herself. They shake hands, and she seems momentarily surprised but quickly covers it up. Saying she’s actually from New Orleans, she invites him home for dinner. They get in her Fiat and drive to her place outside Armagh. There Gavin meets Mairtin, Thea’s husband and a literature professor. He eats a wonderful dinner, and gets strangely creeped out by these two who seem to carry subtext in their casual conversation (“He’s lost. . . and looking for some Kin in Galway”) – not to mention the fact that Thea’s hands are now stigmata-free. Thea insists that she will take him across the isle to where he’s going, as the buses aren’t to be trusted to get you where you’re going at anything approximating “on time”. He politely declines, but she seems to indicate the matter is settled.

That night, he sits in his room, waiting for them to sneak in with butcher knives or something. The phone in the hall rings and Thea answers. Gavin hears her tell Mairtin (in Irish) that one of the boys needs some help. Gavin watchers her head to the cottage out front, only to return an hour later. In the wee hours, Gavin slips out and investigates the cottage by the light of matches. He finds some medical equipment and cots, and decides they’re IRA sympathizers.

The next morning, there’s a breakfast of soda bread, potato farls (basically fried potato cakes) and bacon, and Thea loads up the old Fiat and they head out. It takes about 3.5 hours to get to Galway, and about an hour more to get to Recess. She tries to coax more out of Gavin, and sings some of the old songs with him in her exquisite voice (she allows that she was in a band, Widdershins, back in the Big Easy).

The clouds dip lower and the wind blows harder, occasionally spitting some rain. As they pass Galway and head into the Connemara, Thea seems to be mulling something over. Finally, she says that she will be happy to take him to Cashel, but since they aren’t expecting him (assuming they are still there), she thinks he might want to see some other folks first, folks that might be able to explain some things to him. Then she produces a small silver pendant bearing a similar glyph to the one one Gavin’s necklace (the one he hasn’t shown anyone). He’s ready to bolt, and when they stop for gas at Recess he takes the opportunity to grab his gear and hide. She leaves him a note saying good luck and giving her phone number, and drives back eastward. Gavin shoulders his back and walks westward towards what he hopes is Cashel.

The pub/newsagent/petrol station is not yet out of sight when he realizes two men are following him. He eventually turns to confront them; one demands to know where he got his necklace. A large wolf moves to bar his path, and someone reaches out from the shrubby trees on the roadside. Gavin produces a sawed-off shotgun, and in the scuffle he plugs the latter fellow. When the wounded and cursing figure lifts his shirt to show the belly wounds closing up, Gavin pretty much gives up. One of the four, Aidan, offers to buy him a drink and have a chat if he’ll just come along quietly. Aidan talks to him, telling Gavin a little bit about werewolves, and says the young American is family. He gets a digest of Gavin’s life. From there, the pair wander into the boggy valley to the north, finally coming to a stony hut on the far side of a high hill. Inside the peat-warmed hut, he reveals that Gavin is also a werewolf, come home at last. He somehow convinces Gavin to strip off his clothes, and talks him into wolf form. He changes back just before the sept leader and some others show up. Again, he is asked to tell his story. At the end of it, a scarred, one handed man drew out of the shadows and announced that he was Gavin’s father. The moment Gavin has waited for arrives. He produces the urn, and says, “I’ve got something to give you.” As Eamon Skerritt reaches out, Gavin throws everything he’s got into a haymaker. Eamon’s eyes smolder; he allows that he probably deserved that, and leaves. A woman, Jenny, says that it took him many years to get his life together after losing Siobhan, and warns that before Gavin lays too much hate and blame on his father, he should know tragedy is all too common for their kind, and he may bring the same pain to himself one day. They leave him in the hut to brood, and await a new day.

Unanswered questions and loose ends: Are Gavin’s kin still around? What happened to drive his mother away? Who are these crazy people and what has he become?

Game 2: "First Steps Upon the Path"

Game date: 3/2/03

Real date: 9/09/05

NPCs met: More sept members

Synopsis: The next morning is chill and foggy. Jenny Skerritt shows up with a bowl of hot stew and some soda bread. She allows that she’s his aunt. She’s not overharsh with him, but won’t let him slam her brother more than is due. She explains what happened all those years ago. The Garou generally tell their Kinfolk only as much as is necessary. Siobhan knew a little about what her husband was and less about what he did. He’d hoped to let her know more, to bring her in gradually. But he impressed on her that what she did know was to be kept secret from everyone. Eamon was a trusted Lieutenant of the sept leader, and as such was often away on missions, leaving Siobhan alone and unhappy all too often. Her sister, Shannan, saw how miserable the young bride was, and confronted Eamon on the lane in front of Eamon’s home. She had the misfortune to do so during a full moon, and after a raid that went bad. Eamon was in no mood for righteous, ignorant rantings, and he lost his temper as werewolves tend to do. When he came back to himself, Shannan was torn to pieces. Siobhan likely saw it from the window, for afterwards she was out the back door and gone. She disappeared in the woods, and the best tracker couldn’t pick up her trail. Soon after, word came that she had left Ireland. His elders forbid Eamon from following, for the spirits warned that he was fated never to see her again, and to try would bring damnation. Eamon tried to soldier on, but couldn’t forgive himself, either for hurting Siobhan or for losing her. He grew more reckless in battle, taking foolish risks. Finally, his pack deserted him, and he fell into despair and Harano. Only his sister managed to keep him alive. He finally turned a corner, getting his life together and returning to Gaia’s service about three years ago. He chose a mate two years ago.

As she turns to leave, Gavin tells her he’s finding out that as he learns more all his expectations are proving useless. Even were he allowed to leave, he would stay because he feels now like he has a family and a home, for the first time in his life. Jenny takes his shoulders, looks him in the eye, and tells him that regardless of what came before, he now has a family stronger than any mundane human could feel, for they are tied by blood and spirit, by the secrets they share that must be kept from those they protect, and by fighting together to save the world.

She leaves, and Gavin practices changing forms. He quickly learns that clothes don’t hold up well when switching to Glabro. He stars to sprint up Lios Uachtair, but is overtaken by a Crinos. It is Keegan. The sept leader says that the lad is a cub, with no standing in the Garou Nation. As with any cub, he will be taught the things he needs to know, and when he’s ready he will prove his worthiness to be among them. In the meantime, he will train, learn, and do what is asked of him by any member of the sept. Gavin is asked to relinquish the amulet, because it is a Kinfolk thing, but the leader promises that one day he will be able to put it around some lass’ neck, and so honor his mother’s memory.

Training

Several months go by. He is taught the basics first: the Litany, Rank structure, the names of the other tribes, and the general history of the tribe and the Garou. The elders determine that Gavin is an Ahroun, so that is how he’ll be trained. Led by Martin, many of the septmembers help train him to fight and to use his forms to good advantage. He is taken across the Gauntlet to see the spirits. He sits at the feet of the Moondancers to hear the stories of their history, of triumphs and tragedies, and what it means to be Fianna. When not learning, training or exercising, he is worked, carrying messages, gathering stones, or performing mundane and often pointless tasks.

On the full moon of each month, the sept gathers. He is not allowed in that circle, except to bring wood (!) for the fire. He hears some of the business that goes on a moot, but cannot participate.

Midway through July, he asks Jenny if there is a blacksmith shop anywhere that he could use. She allows that there is an abandoned one in the settlement in the hills; it was owned by an old Kinfolk who passed away about 10 years ago, and suggests he make something very fine and appropriate to the Fianna. Gavin cleans up the shop and sets to work planning an axe. While taking a break, he sees Eamon, his father, leaning on the fence across the way. The older man says he won’t ask for forgiveness (yet), but the lad must let go of the hate and anger, for it can be particularly poisonous to one of their kind. After thinking a while, Gavin asks if Eamon can pump bellow one handed. And so they work on the axe together. Gavin pounds the metal into shape, pounding all of his anger and his bitterness, creating a beautiful and lethal blade. His father brings a stag hide to wrap on the hilt. The cub says that though he’s made axes and many other tools, this is the first thing he’s created that is solely for killing. He gives it to his father to name it, and Eamon calls it “True Blade,” as it his son’s first true weapon. He says that though he wishes he could back his moment of weakness, he thinks the years of exile have made Gavin strong, becoming someone a father would be proud to call son. And he hopes he can earn that right someday.

The Rite of Passage (Aug 4; Waxing Half)

Vigil

The rite takes place a couple of days after Lughnasa. Starting around dawn, the elders question him extensively about Fianna and Garou lore. The questions are, for the most part, not particularly trying, but Gavin is drained by the end (especially since the elders ate during the day but gave him neither food nor drink. He is also asked to produce the item he created; he fetches it while the elders talk. Keegan comments on its quality and notes how important it seems to be the youth. As the sun sinks low, the group slowly walks toward the lough. On a half buried stone at the water’s edge, Kelly (the Master of the Rites) speaks to the attending spirits, and particularly the spirit of the lake. He ends by saying, “Accept this sacrifice from the hand of one who wishes good fortune for the upcoming trials.” Then Kelly looks at Gavin, who suddenly realizes what he is to do. With reluctance, he drops his precious axe into the water, where it disappears in the murk.

Gavin is taken to the Cairn of Heroes. Before entering the circle, he disrobes, and while Seamus paints him with blue swirling lines, Aidan instructs him as to the significance of each stone. The cub is told it should be his aspiration that one day such as stone will bear his mark. He is left there to listen and ponder, and prepare himself for the trials of spirit. They leave him a few minutes before sunset.

The night is clear and the moon rises high. He is chilly and hungry. Over the intermittent breeze, he hears what could be footfalls. Near midnight, a hunched form approaches, stopping just short of the cairn. She (?) greets Gavin as the son of Skerritt, and says she has felt the pain Eamon has caused him. The creature says she hates his father, but cannot act against him directly. So, she has done this: Before he goes on his way, his father will drink a parting cup with Gavin. The cup with the horn on it is poisoned, while the cup with the antlers is pure. Gavin may make the choice, and will hand him one, and drink the other. He may tell no one what he knows; if the poison is discovered or the plot revealed, she will afflict a wasting disease on everyone dear to the sept. Gavin lunges at her, being careful to keep most of his body within the structure. He grasps her cloak; she is gone, and he holds rotting pondweeds He broods on this for some hours, but can find no clear solution to the choice laid before him.

The Journey

Shortly before dawn, the Claws of Morn come to fetch him, silently leading him to the edge of Lough Rua.

Most of the sept are there, including some he hasn’t been formally introduced to. On a rock is a jug and two filled cups. Eamon says, “Before you begin, the Righ has granted me an honor.” He motioned to the cups. Gavin hands him the antler-decorated cup. With it in hand, he holds it up, and says, “My son, your short life has been hard and bitter, but you’re the better man for it. And I thank the mother of us for setting your feet on the way back to us. Slainte.” He drinks, as does Gavin. The group cheers. The liquid burns down Gavin’s throat, and he feels a little lightheaded but not sick. Keegan speaks of the journey of life as a Garou begins with a single step. To Gavin, he says, “Step into the Otherworld, and follow whichever path you wish.”

Whether from the drink or his frame of mind, the world instantly changes. His new family disappear. From where he stands, alone in the Penumbra, he will see several faint, silver paths winding away in all directions. He tosses a stick into the air; it lands pointing west. As he starts down the westward path, he feels the first stomach cramps.

End of Session