Tyrese finds a boulder at the base of the mountain with the firelight to his back. He needs to be able to see deep into the darkness. He is far enough away from the crowd that he may be able to hear the next prowler closing in before it is too late. He takes the eight-foot stick he found and looks it over closely. It is fairly straight, and with a little work, it will make a suitable spear. He takes out his side knife and begins whittling off the undesirable knots first.
Amid the night’s stillness, he suddenly hears the sound of rocks tumbling. His gaze flashes upward into the darkness and he strains his eyes until they adjust enough to discern a cliff edge. A Stoneclimber, a majestic and peculiar creature, is traversing a perilous small edge with his hooves. Four spiraling horns adorn its head like wild brambles, and it nibbles on a root of Twilight Vine. Tyrese marvels as the strange creature deftly maneuvers the glowing vine into its mouth with a long tongue, its eyes scan the surroundings as it chews contentedly.
Unexpectedly a wild-looking man with unkempt red hair and a straggled beard materializes behind Tyrese and plops down without warning. His speech tumbles forth in a distinct Valley-like brogue, filled with curiosity and wonder. “Ye’re a grand big lad, aren’t ye? What’re ye doin’ up here? Begorrah, what in tarnation is that creature? Looks if an ape and a goat ‘ad a wee babe, it does. Do ye reckon we could nab one. And how in EverAm’s holy name did it find its way up there ye reckon?” The strange speaking man says without a breath.
Tyrese chuckles at the odd man. “It’s a Stoneclimber. That thing could stand on a rock the size of your head at the top of the clouds and not be afraid. Be hard to catch with a spear.”
“How’d ye come by that knowledge, then? Are ye a scholar of sorts? An what’s the tale behind ye bein’ so brawny, ye an the other lad look like ye were raised ‘longside bulls or some such. I wager ye could wring the sap from a tree branch with them massive mitts of yours.” He pauses scratching his beard as he sizes up Tyrese. “I’m Seamus O’Sullivan, and I’d offer ye a handshake, but ye might crumble my hand an I’m fond of it the way it is.”
Tyrese smiles and continues working on his spear with adept skill sitting up a little straighter. “I’m Tyrese, and my brother is Rex. I’m not a scholar I just had a fascination with the old world when I was a kid. I used to read all the books I could about the world before the Nevers took over everything. I really liked looking at the pictures of the animals that used to roam the world. I wonder how many of them still live here on this island. There isn’t much land left I was afraid the stronger animals had eaten all the others. I’m glad to see that some still live.”
“In this world, me friend, it’s not always the biggest and the boldest who emerge victorious in a scrap. There’s a fair bit of fight tucked away in the smaller packages, ye see. Perhaps that’s the secret to them Stoneclimbers’ survival. Lay yer mitts on that critter and ye might find yourself regretting it; it could just take ye by surprise, it could.”
Tyrese ponders Seamus’ statement a moment wondering if it has a double meaning. I wonder if he is suggesting that he might surprise me if I try to harm him. A subtle warning? He thinks. “Yeah, I’ve tangled with a few Valley scrappers. Is that why you volunteered to come here? You grew up scrapping in the Valley and figured you could hold your own there perhaps you can also be the first to come back from the Triads and make yourself rich and famous?”
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“I ain’t one of them Valley folk, me heart’s from Ballyfae,” Seamus declares with a defiant nod, pointing northward. “I was out fishin’ caught in a wicked storm, next I knew, I was lost in the Nevers for weeks on end. It was pure chance that brought me to Terre Goth a few years past. When I heard tell of your bicentennial heroes’ quest, I waited for me opportunity. If fate decrees that I’m to meet me end away from me homeland, then I’ll meet it on a battleground soaked in the crimson of valiant blood. They’ll be singin’ songs and tellin’ tales of the ferocious Seamus O’Sullivan a thousand years across all seven cities.”
Tyrese snorts. “You’re lying. No one crosses to the other cities.”
“Aye, I’ve a penchant for wild exaggerations, but I’ll never utter a false word, my friend.”
The Stoneclimber bounds over the top edge of the cliff and scampers off into the dark forest. Tyrese looks over the strange man in the darkness again. He wears a stonewashed blue jean jacket covered in sown-on patches and a loose-fitting tee shirt. His thick black shorts and multicolored socks nearly meet at his knees and his boots are untied. He does dress strange but who in the Valley doesn’t? “All right then I’ll bite. What is Ballyfae like then? Tell me something I can’t read in a book at the library.”
Seamus leans back against the moss-covered boulder, a twinkle in his eye as he begins to share a tale about his beloved Ballyfae.
"Ah, Ballyfae! It's a place where the air's as sweet as a lullaby, and the sky dances with the laughter of folk who've never known a dull moment. Let me paint a picture for ye: Imagine cottages, painted in all the colors of the rainbow, nestled among the branches of colossal sky-reaching trees. We've got streets that twist and turn like the river's flow, and bridges that lead to homes perched high and low.
"In Ballyfae, music's like the air we breathe, and every soul's got a song in their heart. We've got fiddlers whose bows dance like woodland sprites, and pipers whose tunes can make the stars themselves weep. And the stories! Oh, the stories that flow like honey from the lips of storytellers in the local taverns, tales of heroes and legends, of mythical creatures and grand adventures.
"We've got festivals that'll make yer head spin—feasts that stretch from dawn till dusk, and then some more! And when the moon's high and the stars are bright, we gather 'round bonfires to dance, and the night is filled with merriment and joy.
"But mind ye, Ballyfae's not all mirth and merrymaking. We've got our fair share of challenges and perils, like any place in this world. We take pride in our strength and our fierce loyalty to one another, for we know that the bonds of friendship are forged in the fires of adversity.” He growls the last word and his eyes twinkle.
"So, me friend, if ever ye find yourself in Ballyfae, you'll be welcomed with open arms and a tankard of the finest ale. And remember, once you've tasted the magic of Ballyfae, it'll forever hold a piece of your heart." Seamus concluded with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the genuine love and nostalgia he held for his homeland.
“One problem with your plan to die with glory here friend.”
“Wha’s that?” Seamus leans back.
“If we all die here on this mountain, who is going to tell your story?” Tyrese asks.
"Never be happenin', ya see? This be the season of the blue sun, it is, and this here's a grand quest for glory, I tell ya."