You shrug, "Perhaps one of the locals will do well at the Bosun? It won't hurt to ask about at least. As for the Astropath, there should be an extra aboard a ship somewhere. if not here, then back in Viking perhaps." You rise, signaling an end to the meeting, "in any case, that should be everything for the day. Zheeves, make sure Inquisitor Ironsides is aware of or position, and the reason we aren't rushing right on over."

Two weeks later...

The wedding of Vir and Morrigan was a quiet success. A small ceremony, just after sunrise, on the dew-laden grass on a hilltop overlooking the bay. Vows were spoken and Oaths taken, rings were exchanged, and everyone got down to the serious business of the day: the party.

The reception, back in the Dagda Offices reception hall, is a far more boisterous affair. It has lasted the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, with ale flowing freely and no signs of slowing down. Goibihniu provided the ale, but he is back at The Fen fetching more, having left the fire-haired Elena MacWater to tend the bar in his absence. Morrigan and Vir are circling among the small gathering. Jace is nowhere to be seen, but he's not much for social events, so you think nothing of it. Frank and Simo are swapping war stories with Morrigan's family, and Mu'randa is drifting about unobtrusively. Zheeves is, as is his usual, mingling with the guests, talking business and seeking deals and contacts.

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You drift over to the bar for another drink, but stop short when you hear the authoritative CRASH of a fist against the great doors at the end of the hall. The music falters, the guests draw back, and the door groans open. You see Elena's eyes go wide as she dives behind the bar. You turn and stride towards the slowly opening door, "who dares to intrude upon my hall?"

A fur-clad figure strides in, sword and shield in hand, "Daniel MacDhuibh does! Here to collect the blood-debt the thrice-damned MacWater owes me for slaying me kin!"

Your eyes are on his followers, a dozen ragged men in furs and clan-garb. You hear the click of weapons being primed all across the hall as you step forward, "You would come uninvited into my hall, on the day of a wedding no less, and seek to claim the life of a person within it?"

Daniel's eyes glance about, catching sight of the attire and faces of the people in the hall. His mouth sets into a grim line, "I dinna know it was a weddin', but a clan-feud is a clan-feud, and me honor rests on fufillin' me oath to avenge me kin."

Catching sight of the raw anger Morrigan's face, you throw back your head and laugh, "My honor rests on defending any and all guests in my hall. So you have to ask yourself one question. 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do you, Danny-boy?"

Daniel's face twists into a mask of rage, and he charges you.