….he knew where he was the moment he saw the verdancy…..Temair! He almost felt like he was home, but he knew this was a dream. He still looked with affection upon the land, with its menhirs and cairns and mounds. He saw the Lia Fail in the distance. In a blink he was in front of it, and then he was seated on something. A distraught woman charged up to him and cast a bloody sack of charnel at his feet. I demand King's Justice! Her declaration reverberated across the area where he was; it even permeated him, leaving him with no other thought then her utterance. So be it, he heard himself say. They will arrive to prove their innocence or they will be guilty by their absence. He seemed to point at some people who were all red of hair, but one especially stood out from the rest. They had some grey in their red tresses, but it still was a fiery, vibrant red. They also had a beard and moustache; all of the other men of his clan were clean shaven. Then the scene switched to one of carnage in the same place. Bodies laid everywhere; the chair in which he had sat was spattered with gore and other even more unspeakable items. All that remained of her was her headless corpse that had been ravaged to ruin. He found her head in the carnage; an ear had been gnawed off as well as one of her cheeks. He never found her crown. Then he looked upon the scene again; this time there was no longer any carnage, but the chairs near the Lia Fail were nothing but piles of decomposing wood. It was as if a long time had passed. The Lia Fail was off in the distance. He looked at it from afar, and then at close range….there was something odd about it.

It was as if there was a fleeting image within the stone. Who could that be? Then he saw that the image had a beard as well. He laughed at the image. The image in the stone seemed to be consumed with rage. Is that Sardicus? If so why was his image part of the Lia Fail? He did not even remember the Lia Fail being here. It should have been where he was before. It was then that he heard the undercurrent of voices. Flickers in his dream seemed to show Daoine Na Sidhe, and they were chanting….It falls to you to obey what was demanded long ago….you will not shirk your duty to us…ever! Then Blaenwys was there. She looked at him with a neutral gaze. You must return here, they wait for you! Who waits for me? They who killed me, they wait here for you. It was an onerous thing cast upon you, but the onus is upon you to finish this…..so you and I and the others can finally rest…..when you come to Temair…remember me….let no other stand in your way….Arvach! Daudi an Ap Hwywd! He drew his sword as he felt the enemy approach…..

Brother Timothy jerked up out of bed, breathing hard. Temair calls to me…so must I answer. He checked his clock; it was not too far past noon. He shook his head; rarely was it that he slept past seven or eight in the morning. Then he realized that he had completed one of the longest nights he ever experienced. After showering, he inspected his robe. There was some fabric damage, but only on the left arm. He ran it through the washing machine with an extra scoop of powder and then laid it out to dry. It did not take too long for that to happen. While he was waiting, he got what few things he had left to do in order. The missive he created last night went into a sealed envelope. It was left in a conspicuous place with Monsignor Leopold's name on it. If he knew what I had down in my study, he would not want me coming back alive! The sword and scabbard were holding up well; the arm greave looked like it still had not been battle tested. Once his robe was dry, he put it back on and covered his head with the hood. He picked up the cell phone he had been given by the Monsignor. He had only a novice's skill at using the stupid thing, but it did have its uses. Once he got it turned on, he was going to make a call, but the phone's incessant chirping led him to investigate the noise it was making. He had three voicemails that were new. Out of curiosity, he played them. Two were automated spam messages. Brother Timothy almost erased all three messages in disgust, but he was thankful he did not. It was the interloper MacLeod. Brother Timothy laughed in his usual icy tone as he dialed the number left in the message…..

London, England

Duncan scooped up his cell phone from the floor. The sheets of his bed were twisted into some sort of bizarre looking sculpture; he had tried to catch a nap, but it was of no avail. The voices in the background of his mind had become more strident and pervasive with each passing hour. He looked at Amanda. She was asleep, but he could tell she was dreaming; she constantly moved as she was lost in slumber.

"This is MacLeod"

"I am returning a call from a voicemail you left me. This is Brother Timothy"

Duncan sighed long and loud. "It took you enough time to answer."

"I had the phone shut off for the interim. I had a long night last night."

"I did as well, but it sure was not very pleasant. It was full of dreams."

"So, you are dreaming as well? I also am dreaming when I sleep."

"Where is that place I seem to be in the dreams? Is that Tara Hill?"

"Yes, it is, but I call it Temair. It has been a long time since I was there."

"Amanda and I, all we hear are whispered voices. Even when we are awake, we still can hear them." Duncan heard an icy peal of laughter over the line. "Listen, you bastard! You have your items back and we are shut of you for good! How in the hell do we stop these voices?"

"No. you aren't shut of them yet. The Daoine had no tolerance for interlopers in any way or in any place. When you and your friend killed the ones you did kill, you were bound by the same geas laid down 5500 years ago. You were warned that there is a price to pay for interference. Your friend Methos knew what would happen if he got involved. That is why he ran. You should have heeded his advice; now you are part of this whether you like it or not. You can ignore the voices as long as you are able to do so, but they will in time become more strident and pervasive."

Duncan noticed the change in the timbre of the monk's voice. Though at times it seemed almost neutral, he could feel the icy chill behind it. Immortals like these; they only revel in violence and hate and never miss out on an opportunity to wreak havoc. It is what they are….hateful, vengeant and unforgiving. You were wise beyond your many years, Darius. Duncan took a moment to think on the matter. What in the hell can I do? There may be no avoiding what is to come. He now understood what this monk had said earlier at the forge. What the Daoine demand will be, and they will have naught to say of it. Duncan lifted the phone to his ear. "What if we refused to play your deadly game?"

"Then you will never be shut of the voices. If they call, so must you answer. You have no choice in the matter. It is the price you pay for interference." When Duncan did not respond, the monk spoke again. "I will be leaving soon; I will go to the forge and collect my compatriots. Temair calls, they and I will answer. It would be in your best interest to be there as well. It is your choice, but then again it is not." More icy laughter was heard from the monk. "You may be able to stand against Dhurgal, but your companion may have a problem with Clydweth. She is taller then either of us, and she will probably fight in armor. Unlike Bronwyn, she is a true warrior."

"That sounds real encouraging."

"Consider it a splendid chance to wreak even more ruin. Perhaps the quickenings will lay waste to Temair. That would be interesting."

"How is it you can speak so casually about destruction and death?"

"Is there really anything else of importance? I have yet to find something that is. I hope that you come armed; it will be wise to be prepared for anything. I will be leaving today for the forge. Do not be tardy." The line went dead as Brother Timothy ended the call.

Duncan delayed for only a moment before he went to get Amanda. "Amanda, we have another problem."

He briefly told her of the conversation he had.

"Duncan, I am so sorry that this happened!"

Duncan hugged Amanda as he gave a friendly smirk. "I guess that is not a problem. You had no idea what would happen when you started your research. Did you?" Despite adopting a serious expression, his eyes told of a joke.

Amanda batted him in the head. "Of course not!" Then she took on a more serious cast to her features. "Can we trust him? Is he telling the truth?"

"I don't know if he is or not, but this mess is way the hell out of my league. I really don't think we have a choice."

"You are right, Duncan. I guess we are going to fight?"

"He said the female is taller then I am, and fights in full armor. You might be outclassed from the get-go."

Amanda shrugged, "Well, it is not like we have any choice. The voices in the background are getting louder; I am finding it hard to even think at times."

Duncan arose from his chair. "Then I guess we go, then."

"When will he be there?"

"He said late tonight or tomorrow morning."

"What exactly are we going to take with us?"

"You mean besides our swords? I don't know. I think we best travel light."

Tarborleah's Forge

When Brother Timothy arrived, it was early evening. Though there was some activity from the forge building, it seemed less than before. He sensed Clywd and Dactal even before he entered the forge building. They were there at one of the tables, along with Marion. Marion's hair looked disheveled. Black circles were underneath both of her wide, staring eyes. Her clothing also looked unkempt. If she did not blink every so often, one would have had the impression that she was catatonic.

"Good evening, Clywd. What is wrong with your apt pupil?"

"Nothing really; I was showing her some of the ways of the Daoine. She stopped screaming after the first time, but it seems that she is a little…damaged?"

"That is rather a waste of your time, isn't it Clywd? She is immortal after all. She can't conceive."

"But we of the Daoine never waste our efforts; it should be a most interesting test. Maybe she will conceive with my seed inside of her?"

"The brutal methods or our time would not be so well accepted or tolerated now; you might want to consider that, Clywd."

"But she wanted to learn the ways of the Daoine! Who would I be if I did not teach her?" Clywd put an arm around Marion. She flinched for a moment, and then once again took up her decidedly unhealthy stare.

Brother Timothy shook his head as he turned a grim expression upon Clywd. "Despite that, your actions were beneath the pale. Perhaps somewhere in that head of yours, you might understand. But let me guess, like others of your kind, you have already forgotten about the matter?"

"Until you mentioned it again, I actually did. What is the use of remembering such fleeting moments; she really was not enjoyable."

Clywd had an expression upon his countenance that made Brother Timothy think about bashing in his face, but he realized that it would do no good. He knew something else that would upset the Daoine even more. "We are not going alone. The two interlopers may yet join us." Brother Timothy smirked at Clywd's discomfiture.

"You not only suffered them to live, but you invite them to where they are not wanted?"

"We lost two of our number, and a third one won't be back anytime soon. With them in thrall, it will be a more even match then without them."

"They STILL are Interlopers! It makes me wonder if you are up to the task laid upon you! Are all humans as weak in character as this woman here?" He turned Marion's head towards him. Her near catatonic expression vanished, to be replaced by a look of rage. She slugged Clywd hard in the chest and then got up from her seat. Clywd laughed at her outburst. "Now why did you hit your teacher like that? Do you not wish to learn more of the ways of the Daoine?"

Marion's hand slid down to her waist where a small sword was sheathed. Brother Timothy spoke.

"That would not be a good idea. As vacuous as Daoine minds are, they can be far more excessive in regards to emotions. If you anger him, he will kill you. You should simply consider what happened recently a hard lesson learned. Clywd has no capacity to learn from his mistakes."

Marion ceased reaching for the short sword. Instead, she broke out in tears as she fled the forge.

"Do not ever consider me weak, Daoine. When the defiler shows his face, he will pay in the dearest coin he can imagine. He will know some of the grief I have suffered. Also, be advised that I only suffer you due to the circumstances. One such as you can never be considered a friend. As prideful as the Daoine were in their superiority, they are puerile as a race. You condescendingly berate the human race, but we were the ones who survived, not you. If you survive the coming battle, remember this if you can, Clywd, lest someone cuts off your head."

The Daoine was livid with rage; Dactal even let out a low growl of dislike. But Brother Timothy's excoriation of Clywd's actions accomplished what was needed. No more deprecating remarks came from Clywd at the moment. "I will be back here in the morning. Please be sure you are ready. Temair awaits us soon." As Brother Timothy left the forge, he saw Marion being comforted by a young man. Why is it that so many have to learn in the most painful fashion? She in part brought it on herself; perhaps that is the only way mortals and some immortals really learn. He headed to the flat where he slept before. My sword is sharp and my senses are keen. Whatever Badb and Morvran decree, at least it will be decided.

The sky was in process of greeting the Dawn when Duncan and Amanda arrived. Even at this early hour, they were surprised that the forge seemed to brim with activity. Duncan pulled up the car and they both got out. They sensed the immortals around them, but two seemed stronger than the rest. Amanda was in a catsuit, but the cloak she wore over it hid her figure well; it also did the same for her sword. Duncan had on a trench coat to hide his sword, but instead of shoes, he was wearing boots that were steel-shod in addition to being of heavy leather. Without hesitation, they entered the forge. He saw the one the monk called Nathan conversing with another immortal in plate armor. There were several immortals in the room; they all went silent when Duncan and Amanda entered. They say Clywd and Dactal sitting by themselves at one table.

"Where is the monk?"

Clywd answered him in an almost condescending tone. "Are you so quick to lose your life? Why are humans so rash and infantile regarding their longings?"

"You are really funny, asshole; it's a wonder that someone hasn't shoved that sword you carry up your ass."

"As if you think you could equal me in battle? I still don't see why Ardis suffered you to live."

Duncan half extracted his sword. "Perhaps you would like to die here instead?"

Amanda put her had on Duncan's hand. "Ignore him; he isn't worth it. None of his kind are."

That brought a chuckle from a few present there. One of them offered his comment on the situation "You got that right, lassie!"

Clywd looked at Duncan. "I am sure he will be along soon. You will have to wait until he shows; that is, if the coward decides to show." Clywd laughed at his comment and then turned away from Duncan.

Duncan turned to Amanda. "With friends like these…."

Amanda laughed. She took a seat away from the elf and his companion; Duncan followed suit. As it went, they did not have to wait long. They felt him even before he walked on to the parking lot. Brother Timothy opened the door. "Greetings! I am so glad you two could make it here!"

"As if we really had any choice!"

"You interfere; you pay the price; that is so often how it works."

"Do you have any sort of plan?"

"The only one I have is to get there as quickly as possible without any delays. Shall we go?"

Clywd and Dactal arose at the same time Duncan and Amanda did. As they headed towards the door, a familiar voice spoke. It was Nathan. "Where is the group of you headed? Do you have need for some company? You never know what could befall you on the way to where you are going."

Brother Timothy stopped and thought for a second before he spoke. "Nathan, the offer of help is appreciated; that also goes for the help you have given to me for the other things. This, however, is not a game. There are no dungeon masters, no hit dice. The ones that we face may be beyond our capacity to defeat, and all of us are seasoned. As it goes, when we get to where we are going, we then must then journey on alone, the five of us."

"That is fair, but only recently, our horizons were broadened. This place as of late has become quite small. We would be honored if we could accompany you as far as we are allowed to go."

"Who is 'we'?"

At that utterance, Nathan signaled to several in the room. Nine immortals stepped forth. Percy was one and Marion was another. They made an impressive show dressed in their anachronist outfits. Brother Timothy was about to say no, but Duncan cleared his throat. Brother Timothy turned to Duncan.

"If there were a larger group of us in public, people might be more inclined to leave us alone. We could easily blend into the group until we got to where we were going."

Brother Timothy thought that over for a second. It kind of made sense. Though in most cases larger meant more unwieldy. In this case, it could have the opposite effect of making them far less conspicuous. "Okay, you are welcome to come along. But be careful and I would suggest that you all bring weapons." There yet may be acolytes running around out there still. The group of fifteen shortly departed on a train to Wales. From there, it was no problem to get passage to Dublin, even though many fellow passengers commented on their garb. The group took it in stride.

"Sir, the monk and a number of other people just took a train to Wales, and then went to Dublin. Should we notify the cells in that area?"

Dawson thought for a moment. No watchers will ever hound us. "Yeah. Do that. I would like to find out what is really going on." Actually, I want to find out what that one immortal is keeping from us. Dawson ended the call. What in the hell are they up to now? The monk's warning was not something to laugh off; he had more than proved their penchant for extreme violence, but Dawson was a Watcher and his job was to watch. If things unfolded in any way he could have imagined, it was going to be a hell of a fight. Even though the watchers were aware of immortals and tracked them, Dawson had no idea of what was going to happen next. He would learn there are some things better not watched.

Meath County, Ireland

The group had no problem moving through Dublin, but it was on the outskirts of the city with their goal within reach that complications began to occur. The first sign of trouble was an increased amount of constabulary in the area. This was because there was a rather large gathering of modern-day druids there as well. Large groups and gatherings tend to bring even more people to their midst, and this was no exception. While still several kilometers from their goal, the transom bus was forced to halt.

"There is no way I am getting any further along with the crowds that are here. This is the end of the line; if you want to go any further, you'll need to walk."

The bus emptied out in response to the driver's statement. Outside of the vehicle, the general area was a madhouse full of humanity. While groups of druids were engrossed in conversation, enterprising individuals had set up stands so they could hawk all sorts of amusing items, from resin menhirs to Claddagh jewelry. Interspersed with this was no small amount of petty thieves plying their trade. It had not progressed to a dangerous situation yet, so mostly the constabulary just kept a keen eye for any trouble. Several of them took a keen interest in a small group heading through the crowds, but it as quickly went away when Nathan and the others produced cards stating that they were members of The Anachronists Guild. That apparently carried some weight even in these parts, because after their initial interest, the constabulary largely ignored the group. As quickly as they could do so, the group wended their way through. It seemed to take a lot longer than it actually did, but in a relatively short period of time, they had made it through the crowds and could see the border of Tara Hill in their sight. The crowds thinned to a large extent, but now they were getting the attention of a group of druids.

That was not the only problem they had at the moment either. Not only was there another group angling towards them, but the way into Tara Hill was blocked by a loose line of official looking people. They had the mark of law enforcement all over them; they had also noticed the group of which he was part. The group of druids angled towards them as the second group did, but the people blocking direct access to the park were there first. Three of them confronted the group.

"Good day to you people. How are things this day?"

Nathan spoke first. "We are doing fine. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Well, sir, we are park constabulary; our job is securing Tara Hill and the surrounding sites."

Another one of the three guffawed upon looking at Nathan. "What exactly are you? Is your troupe going to re-enact The Lord of the Rings Trilogy?"

At that, all three of them laughed.

"Idiot anachronists; why in the hell can't you rent the movie and watch it on the telly like normal people do? We have enough problems just keeping away the lunatics and such from here. We do not allow any arms of any type on site; you may as well just go on home."

Their wit regarding the group attracted still more of the constabulary.

"Why is it only one of you speaks while the others remain silent?" The new arrival reached for and grabbed the left arm of one of the cloaked figures. The next moment they were stumbling backwards holding their right hand. Before they could recover or do anything the hooded figure spoke in a deadly tone of voice.

"Why is it all of you speak and none of you remain silent? Can you answer that question?" The park constabularies were really nothing more then security guards, so they did not have the larger number of weapons available to them. Basically, all they had was a club, a flashlight, and a radio.

The one who was thrown back remarked in shock, "That one whose arm I grabbed, it's covered in armor!" When he and two others moved forward with outrage on their faces, they were met by just the hooded figure that the one had grabbed. The hooded figure was silent and unmoving as he confronted the three.

"At least I hear you being silent this time; that is a marked improvement."

"Why is your arm covered in armor or such? That seems not very meet regarding such a place as this."

"That is my own concern. I have no quarrel with you, yet you are the ones that excoriate without reason." A staring contest ensued, one which the three park constables lost. The constables saw some more conventional troublemakers a short distance off, but it also was that they found the monks stare, even from under a hood, to be most discomfiting. It was as if the hooded figure assessed them, contemplated them and then dismissed them. There was far easier prey around then a hooded figure that spoke daggers and viewed them with near utter contempt.

Even though that had been abated, now there was the group of druids that confronted the cohort. To make things even worse, there was a news crew present. They looked as if they had been interviewing the druids, but now their cameras were pointed at them. The group halted again as their path of egress was blocked by the druids. The second group was slowly approaching their right flank. This second group had something of a disheveled appearance, but there was purpose in their eyes. Brother Timothy felt them in short order. A group of immortals.

"Take it easy. Do your best to ignore them, he whispered softly

Try as they might, there was no way of avoiding either of the groups. One of the druids seemed to be in charge of the group. He was also the one that had been talking to the reporters. He did not stop until only a meter or two separated him from the group.

"A good morning to you, sirs! Where would you be going on this fine day?"

The group was silent until Nathan spoke. "We are going to a meeting of sorts if we can get to it. What is this all about, the reporters and cameras?"

"They are here to interview me as a follow-up article to the one most recently published. Why is your cohort armed? I could not help but overhear the guard's proclamation."

"I believe that is our own concern and not yours."

Sean Llewellyn looked over the group. "Who spoke thus to me?"

"I did." Brother Timothy moved to the front of the group. "Why is it that your group now assails us if by only blocking our path?"

"It is the duty of all druids to preserve Tara Hill; weapons for wreaking havoc assuredly are only for destruction. Once more I ask you: What are you doing here!?"

Brother Timothy thought for a moment. At the same time he was watching the group of immortals heading towards his right flank. "We are here to gain entrance to Temair, hopefully by diplomacy," Brother Timothy showed his sword. "but use of force if necessary."

The group of druids backed away a little when they saw the sword. Ripples of commentary flowed around their group like water disturbed by raindrops. The leader of the druid group changed tack. "Where did you have that item engraved? We saw accepted, warrior, and chief on that item, but in an archaic rune text."

Brother Timothy was silent, but only for a moment. "Approach any closer and I will kill you where you stand." Brother Timothy's gaze was upon the group of immortals. "I know what you are, and you are probably associated with an Ap Hwywd. You will not live to interfere if you decide to do so." The immortal group stopped in their tracks.

Even though one of them made an attempt to speak, the head druid spoke first. "Who dares to utter the reviled Eldritch tongue?"

"I wasn't aware that it is now called reviled. You can understand my speech?"

Sean was in shock, though only for a moment. "I can't speak the language fluently, but I know when someone is using it and some of it I understand."

"Good. Now understand this. I and my four compatriots are going into Temair. What you call druids now are but a pale shadow of what they once used to be. You also spoke of a tainted feeling over Temair. I know what is causing it, but it will not be removed by prayers. It will need to be removed by extreme force."

Sean gave a look of confusion towards Brother Timothy, so the monk repeated what he had said in English. That caused Sean and his fellow druids to back away even further in order to discuss what he just heard with the other druids. Brother Timothy turned an eye to the group of immortals.

"You have something to say? Speak your peace then, before they speak again."

The immortal at the front of the pack gave a sneer. "You will not be able to stand against them, you know. We won't have to do anything, because they will kill you." Brother Timothy noticed one of the immortals in the group. It was the one whose life he spared in Paris.

"Ask your friend regarding what I am capable of doing; in actuality, I will not have to do anything either. You should never have attacked the watchers the way you did; you will find out soon enough that they are very capable when confronted by someone like yourself. They will hunt you down and despatch you."

Brother Timothy had enough of these delays. If it wasn't pompous idiots, it was others that must drink a glass of stupid every day. The day had started out partly cloudy, but now it was fully cloudy. What started as a clear day gave over to mist, then a misty rain. That didn't quell the festive spirit of those present though.

Brother Timothy saw a few druids enter into Tara Hill, but one female immediately knelt down and puked on the grass. Her compatriots helped her out of the area. Brother Timothy paid the sick individual no mind because he was seeing something rather odd. Whether it was from the rain or something else, he could see a visible reddish pallor across Tara Hill. It was not so much as a glow but more like a patina on everything in there. He was absorbed in watching it so much it took a tap upon the shoulder to pull him away from the panorama. He once again was looking at Sean.

"Do you see what effect it has on us? She was ill the moment she set foot on the site."

"I saw that; I know what is causing the taint, but it is a clan matter, not one of any religion."

"Clans? What sort of clans?"

"Welsh ones, or an equivalent thereof." Brother Timothy had a plan to get inside the site, but he also thought up something on the spur of the moment that would make it so he was not assailed by druid fools anymore. He took out the half circlet and showed it to Sean. "What do you make of this rune?" Sean looked at the rune as did several of his fellow druids. Then he looked at the rune closer. If it was possible for someone of his complexion to grow paler, it did at that very moment. He was not alone in his reaction either. A few of his cohort backed away very quickly. Brother Timothy viewed their reactions with a frosty smile that seemed to be gleeful in a black humored way. "Is there a problem, Sean? You look like you have seen a ghost."

Sean looked at the monk with fear on his visage. "Where on earth did you find that crown?" The monk laughed at the druid's apparent discomfiture. Sean turned to the druids remaining and shortly there was yet another heated discussion. The group of hostile immortals backed off considerably upon seeing the half circlet Brother Timothy possessed. When Brother Timothy looked again to the group of druid's, they had backed up, giving him more space than before. Though Sean had fear upon his countenance, several of his cohort were either grim lipped or possessed of a baleful glare directed at him. The recently ill female screamed an oath at Brother Timothy.

Brother Timothy replied quickly in eldritch speech. "As Badb and Morvran decree, so shall things be decided. You and yours had best not defy me as your kind has done before, for many have I sent to the other side. My rage is to be feared, and my temper is legendary. Arvach!"

That made the female druid pale as well. Now he could set his other plan into motion. It was pretty simple in its execution; all it would take would be the right timing. There was not enough of the park constabulary to form a tight-knit line, so it was a matter of seeing where the least number of them were. Next, he had to find a legitimate entrance to the site; it would not do any good to have all sorts of law enforcement chasing them. If they could get far enough into the site, that problem could easily go away.

"Nathan, I have an idea."

Brother Timothy explained his plan; it got near instantaneous approval.

Tara Hill was not a high priority terrorist target as denoted by the laws and regulations passed after September 11, so the barrier that was present was essentially a low fence on the side closest to Dublin. Needless to say, the more sparsely settled parts that abutted Tara Hill had more of a barrier, but still nothing really of consequence. The county wisely decided to allow controlled access to the site upon remitting a fee at an official entrance. Brother Timothy and the others headed towards one of these entry points. While Nathan and Percy organized the others into a sort of shield, Brother Timothy and the other four seeking entrance to Tara Hill was a few steps behind. As the rough spearhead approached its goal, the ten in front sprang into action. Nathan and Marian looked to be interested in goods offered at a sales booth. Marion had no problem engaging two of the constables in a conversation while Nathan surreptitiously blocked the constables' proximity to the entry. Percy was a big fellow even without his plate armor. Nathan's workmanship was admired by some people; Percy had drawn even more away from the entrance. As quickly and quietly as possible, the other seven positioned themselves so as to cause as much potential interference as possible.

Brother Timothy looked at Duncan. "Leave it to mortals; charge as much as you can from as many as possible. I kind of view this as sacrilege."

"What, you would not charge anything?"

"No, I wouldn't; however, if a Pict decided to show up, I would have them filled with arrows. It is the meet thing to do after all."

Duncan by now had gotten used to the monk's twisted statements and his callous view of violence. He still shook his head upon hearing what he said because one of the five was a Pict. They made it to the entry gate without any problem, but the gatekeeper wasn't too happy with the group of five. Despite his sour gaze upon the party, the matter was settled with an extra fifty Euros in addition to the 10 Euro entry fee per person. As they proceeded to pass through, all hell began to break loose. A mixture of park constabulary and angry druids converged upon the entrance gate. As if on cue, they were blocked momentarily by Nathan and the other nine immortals. All that Percy had to do was stand his ground; even without his plate armor on, he was of formidable size.

"It is advisable to make as much haste as possible so as not to have any more interference."

"Why are the druids pissed off?"

"Apparently they can not only understand some Eldritch speech, but I can bet that they are well versed in all manner of legend and such that pertains to this area. Some of them may not believe what they have seen, but others are of a more pragmatic bent; those that fluently speak the Olden Tongue are to be feared and reviled, for they only bring ruin in their wake. They knew more than I thought was possible."

"But why regard it with such hostility?"

"They have embraced the peaceful aspects of being a druid, but they refuse to acknowledge the darker aspects of the same. We need to head to where the Lia Fail is." Brother Timothy headed off at a fast walk, saying one more thing. "Be prepared for anything. It has been so long since I have been here." As the five traipsed across the verdant land, the soft rain became at times almost nonexistent, then at times more powerful. Brother Timothy could still see a sort of red patina on the surrounding area. He wasn't sure if the others could or not.

The ten immortals knew that they could only delay the inevitable pursuit, but they did so as long as possible. Eventually, their blocking tactics no longer worked. It was easy to play dumb when questioned by the constabulary or angry druids because they really did not know anything. Despite the rain at times coming down rather heavily, several of the constabulary along with several incensed druids formed a group to pursue the five they considered to be a threat to Tara Hill. Sean agreed to come along, though he had serious misgivings about this. He had an idea what that rune was on that crown, but the others told him he was mad. He said the Lia Fail boomed three times. Welsh clans? They had not existed for centuries! Sean had read the folk tales though; he always thought there was simply too many of them regarding Tara Hill for all of them to be a myth. There was for an example the story of Blaenwys the peaceful that was slain by those corrupted. Her husband had exacted a terrible price for her demise; some say he still hunted the last of those who participated in the foul deed…Is it he that now hunts? That glyph was beyond that denoting Chieftain, but he was unsure of what it was exactly. It predated anything modern that he had read though.