The majority of the ‘Clan’ was clustered in the ‘Great Hall’ while a handful gathered in the ‘Chamber’. The clan had wandered for almost two years, continuously on the move through the forests and hills. Avoiding roads and patrols, and never staying more than a few days in any one campsite. Then you found ‘The Ruins’.
Robbie Milne had been the first to suggest staying. He said “the grass feels different”. When a barefoot Halfling grazing his sheep tells you the grass feels different under his feet, you have to believe him … even if you don’t completely understand. Of course, even to a human eye, the grass here was different. No stench filled the air, just a sweet fragrance from the flowers and the clover. The grass was tall and green and amber, not the browns and greys that you were accustomed to. The vines and shrubs still had nasty thorns, but they also had bright colored flowers and sweet tasting berries. It was a good place to graze the small herd, and the patrols seemed to generally avoid this place. So, the ruin became ‘home’.
You shared your Ruin with some distinctly unfriendly neighbors. The clan had briefly debated clearing out the neighbors, but the realization that the neighbors ate any patrols foolish enough to try and search the ruin convinced you to “live and let live” with the natural inhabitants that shared your ruins. So the ‘Great Hall’ (#6) and the ‘Chamber’ (#7) were yours, while the tower and side rooms belonged to them.
The ‘Great Hall’ (#6) had once been an audience chamber for the castle and tattered tapestries and banners still hung from the walls. Beams poking through the ceiling bear witness to the complete destruction of the upper level. However the floor is swept clean and the room serves as a gathering and workspace for the Clan. The Hagelins, a family of Dwarven weavers are at work combing and spinning and weaving cloth in the Great Hall. Florentin, an Elven tailor, is quietly sewing together cut cloth for a new dress for one of the children.
The ‘Chamber’ (#7) had been some sort of private quarters, but the door was easily repaired and could be locked and barred from the inside. For safety, the entire clan slept in the ‘Chamber’ behind a heavy barred door. Now the door was open and some of the women were preparing for the mid-day meal. Ceolwulf Carter and his son Regenmaer stood guard at the open corner of the Chamber where the wall had collapsed. The rubble from the wall formed a bridge and stepping stones across the moat that was the primary way the Clan entered and left the ruins.
Marley Edwards, a human potter, was gathering clay from the bank near the crossing to add a few storage pots to the Clan’s inventory (and replace some cups broken by a pair of rough-housing Dwarven boys).
These were the people that fate and the gods had given the party to guide and protect. This was your congregation. This was your community. This was your Clan.
