As the fire of the hearth flickers and waves, casting shadows from objects all across the room, a tall redheaded man takes a seat in an old rickety wooden chair. It groans under his weight but, the chair holds, “Sit doawn Lads an’ Lassies an’ let me tell ye a story.” He leans forward, clasps his hands, and begins to speak.
Glorious battles require glorious celebration. This is just a fact of life and another fact is that those who have passed must be replaced. During one such celebration in a keep near Haense, Lugh was conceived. He was born to a feisty warrioress by the name of Moira McKinney and a man who matched her temperament. His name was Fearghas Eoghain. Though, born to is about the extent he interacted with his parents in his younger years. They were usually too busy fighting, *******, or feeding. No, he was brought up by the Keep’s head cook like a lot of Children were. She was a sweet, portly, older lady that held the name of Maisie McIntyre, but while sweet she held a wicked tempered if pushed. She taught him the basics, how to cook, how to clean, how to sew, and even how to read and write. She instilled a diligence in young Lugh that would follow him for years to come.
Eventually though, he’d grow old enough and big enough to start walking in the footsteps of his parents – The path of the Warrior. His father took him from the Kitchen one day. The sun was directly overhead, beating down on the yard of the keep they called home. Young Lugh was confused, he asked his father why he needed him. There was a simple, gruff response, “To fight.” A sword was put into his hand that day by his mother and his father, and he learned that the only way to put it down was to no longer be able to hold it. At this point in his life, gears shifted quickly. When it was day, he would fight, when it was night he’d carry on with refining the skills Maisie had given him. It was an impetuous, grueling, but rewarding process. By his late teens he’d become one of the most formidably fighters in his clan, and one of the brightest minds in the keep. But, he’d been being equipped his entire life with a hunger for cultivating his body and mind. He realized that he would soon plateau at the keep, so he left with a promise to return home. One day. The Laird of the keep ordained it and so he set off for the next part of his life in the wider lands of Atlas.
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