(set: $seenFergus to true)(set: $fergusTopics to 2)(set: $fetchedWater to false)You force yourself through the same battered door and get the whelming whiff of those manly odours yet again, hoping that <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Fergus</span><span class="annotation-text">A masculine name.
Modern English pronunciation (IPA): /ˈfɛɹɡəs/</span></span> has sobered himself up a bit and you won't have much reason to linger here. He's there in the corner, now without the hanger-on, still looking maudlin. You approach him with what you hope is a look of concern.
"Are you all right, uncle?"
<div class="img-wrapper"><img src="Images/C1/fergus.png" alt="A portrait of Fergus, a big bull of a man who looks weary." class="portrait-img"></img></div>
<div class="body-text">Someone who didn't know him as well would say he started, but you're not in the habit of sullying ex-soldier's reputations like that. He turns and offers you a bleary stare.
"Uh... <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bríd</span><span class="annotation-text">A feminine name, related etymologically to the name of the hearth goddess Brigid.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲɾʲiːdʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Breedj*</span></span>. I thought I told you to head home." He lets out a great big hiccup that rocks the unsteady table he's unsteadily leaning on.
(if: (history:) contains "Kitchen - Return")["I did. And I'm back."](else:)["Well, I'm back now."]
He makes a sound somewhere between a huff and a grunt. "N-never can keep a good woman down, as the man says."
He seems receptive. Now's for striking. You seat yourself on the rickety stool next to him and fill up his <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">mether</span><span class="annotation-text">A drinking vessel with a number of handles used throughout Ireland. Usually made of wood.</span></span>.
"I wanted to ask you something, actually, if you've a minute," you say.
"I've nothing but them." He guffaws, then hiccups again. "Not like there's much going on back in t-the... the aul' gaff."
Marital discord would explain why a man who should have better things to be doing is spending whole afternoons in a pub half an island away from his partner. Something to ask <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Ailbhe</span><span class="annotation-text">A gender-neutral name.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈalʲvʲə/
English phonetic approximation: *Al-veh*</span></span> about, perhaps. You've always been a gossip, despite your best instincts; it's the curiosity that does it.
"It's about the mainland."
"What about it? Shite buzz now."
Not his favourite topic, in other words. Probably best to be delicate here.
(display: "Fergus - Return Questions")</div>(set: $inventory to (dataset:)){(set: $tags to (passage:)'s tags)
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<label class="container">|mainmenu>[(link: "RETURN TO GAME")[(goto: $previous)]]</label><div class="tutorial-text">The following is a short branching scene from the interactive historical fantasy novel <em>Alltarach</em>. The full game is available (link:"here")[(gotoURL:"https://wildisland.itch.io/alltarach?password=alltarach")].
You are Bríd, an orphan who lives on an island off the west coast of Ireland in the early sixth century CE. Your fisherman brother has disappeared, and you've made up your mind to take the ferry to the mainland to track him down despite your fear of... well, everything. In this scene, you revisit the local pub to see if you can glean any information about the mainland from your adoptive uncle Fergus.
<button class="tutorial-button">|mainmenu>[[[BEGIN|Start]]]</button></div>(unless: (history:) contains "Fergus - History" or (passage:)'s name is "Fergus - History")[[["How long did you live on the mainland for?"|Fergus - History]]
]\
(unless: (history:) contains "Fergus - Wolves" or (passage:)'s name is "Fergus - Wolves")[[["What are these 'sons of the land' I keep hearing about?"|Fergus - Wolves]]
]\
(unless: (history:) contains "Fergus - Mirror" or (passage:)'s name is "Fergus - Mirror")[[[Hold up the mirror. "Ever seen one of these there?"|Fergus - Mirror]]]<div class="img-wrapper"><img src="Images/C1/fergus.png" alt="A portrait of Fergus, a big bull of a man who looks weary." class="portrait-img"></img></div>
<div class="body-text">(set: $fergusTopics to $fergusTopics - 1)Circle around; don't land yet. "You lived there, right?"
He grunts, takes a swig of his drink.
"When was that?"
"Ah, I was born there. Dad moved us over here when we were young; like ye, I suppose. Then I went back as a hired hand. Ended up a soldier."
"And now you're... retired?"
"That's a term you could use, yeah."
"We moved over before I was born," you clarify. "I've never been." You think; you're not sure if the images in your head are from stories or memories sometimes.
"And what, now you're suddenly curious? Too many fairy stories?" (unless: $fetchedWater is true)[He smirks, shoving away the already empty <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">mether</span><span class="annotation-text">A drinking vessel with a number of handles used throughout Ireland. Usually made of wood.</span></span>. "Here, do us a favour and get me some water."
You run dutifully over to the publican and return with a new vessel. He swigs it in one, surprisingly fluid, motion and then slams it back down on the wood with an assertive thud, a spare gesture that's enough to remind you that this man has killed people.(set: $fetchedWater to true)](else:)[He smirks, casts a quick eye over at the publican and then back on you, as if changing his mind. He knows you've noticed and he knows you're not going to say anything about it. It's why he's so open with you.]
"Right, what d'ya wanna know?"
"Just..." You're suddenly not sure. "What it was like for you. If there's anything I should watch out for." Fuck.
"Oh, so you're *going* there, are you?"
"*He's* gone there. I'm just going to find him."
"For feck's sake, <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bríd</span><span class="annotation-text">A feminine name, related etymologically to the name of the hearth goddess Brigid.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲɾʲiːdʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Breedj*</span></span>, we talked about this," he says with a voice raised and hard. The publican glances over. "Let him make his own mistakes."
"I already have. I'm sure you remember how that went."
"He survived, didn't he?" He clasps his palms together and runs them along the length of his face. "He survived."
"I'm going, uncle." You try to match his firmness with your own.
He smirks. "Your ma never believed me, but I told her you'd be the stubborn one. That lad cares too much about what other people think of him, even if he'd never admit it. Anyway..." He sighs. "I can't stop you. What was it like for me, was it? Sleeping in ditches with cantankerous sweaty arseholes, waiting and waiting and more fucking waiting. I was glad to see the back of it."
"Even though people here talk—"
"At least they're our own. If they didn't want us here they'd have made it known long 'go the day. They're not used to it, no, but there's no harm in curiosity."
"And it doesn't bother him?"
"It doesn't, no. He knew what he was getting into. People on the mainland would be pretending they like you and plotting how to burn down your house all the while. We've a plain people here; you know the measure of them." He sucks his massive chest in and lets it fall slowly. "As for what to watch for... well, those kinds of people, for one. Just keep to yourself and you'll be grand. Don't talk to strange men. Actually, don't talk to any men if you know what's good for you."
You smile, and he notices. "What's so funny?"
"Ah, nothing, just... same advice Mam gave me."
"A fine woman, your mother. I miss her terribly."
You try not to let your face move too much; it'll set you off, and you need to stay in control. The stool squeaks as he leans back and watches you.
(if: $fergusTopics > 0)[[["Everything all right at home?"|Fergus - Home Life]]
(display: "Fergus - Return Questions")](else:)[(display: "Fergus - Return Exit")]</div><div class="img-wrapper"><img src="Images/C1/fergus.png" alt="A portrait of Fergus, a big bull of a man who looks weary." class="portrait-img"></img></div>
<div class="body-text">(set: $fergusTopics to $fergusTopics - 1)You take a deep breath and begin. "There's a phrase people use, when they talk about the beasts on the mainland..."
"Beasts of burden," he says with a sneer, apropos of nothing.
"They call them 'sons of the land'," you continue. "Fierce aul' yokes altogether, they sounded like. Do you know anything about them?"
(unless: $fetchedWater)[There's a sudden clarity in his eyes. He shoves away the <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">mether</span><span class="annotation-text">A drinking vessel with a number of handles used throughout Ireland. Usually made of wood.</span></span>.
"Here, get me some water first."
You run dutifully over to the publican and return with a new vessel. He swigs it in one, surprisingly fluid, motion and then slams it back down on the wood with an assertive thud, a spare gesture that's enough to remind you that this man has killed people.(set: $fetchedWater to true)](else:)[He looks at you with a weird tension in his face, as if he's trying to suppress a smile.]
"I know them well. They're wolves, <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bríd</span><span class="annotation-text">A feminine name, related etymologically to the name of the hearth goddess Brigid.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲɾʲiːdʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Breedj*</span></span>. Picture a big — and I mean big — grey, short-haired dog with perked ears and a long snout. Something... sort of primitive-looking about them."
"And why do they call them 'sons of the land'?"
He snorts, hiccups in response to the snort, reaches for the water and, gulping down nothing, holds it out to you for a refill. This may take a while.
When you return, he downs the refill and thinks for a while, seeming to have sobered up a bit. "You have a habit of asking funny questions, so you do."
"You don't know, then?"
"Ah, I can guess as well as anyone." He sighs. "You find them in forests. In little family groups, flanked by a mating pair. I suppose it's a..." — he furrows his brow — "a recognition of how the forests are the lifeblood of the land, and the wolves are the lifeblood of the forest. Or some poetic shite like that."
"And have you—?"
"I have, yeah." He says it a little too quickly. "Set up camp one night, got caught alone. A pack of them were out on an evening stroll. I held my breath; fully expected to..." — he brings a massive hand up to his right eye and wipes — "they just walked by. Then I saw what they were doing: stalking a deer. A big red stag. I followed them for a bit; was mad curious. They caught its scent, tracked it and brought it down together, nipping at the neck."
"So they've good noses on them? But didn't pick you up?"
"Better than dogs', probably. But it just goes to show you, they've no real interest in us. Those stories you hear are nonsense." You make a face. That little toothless liar...
"<span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Oisín</span><span class="annotation-text">A masculine name. Famously borne by the legendary poet Oisín, son of Fionn Mac Cumhaill and Sadhbh.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈɔʃiːnʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Usheen*</span></span> been shiteing on again? Kid's a bit of a <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">gobdaw</span><span class="annotation-text">A chatterbox or pretentious person.</span></span> sometimes." He blows his nose on his sleeve. "Just ignore him. We should be following the wolves' example, actually. We're stronger together, as families, clans - <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">*ní neart go cur le chéile*</span><span class="annotation-text">Irish proverb meaning 'unity is strength'.</span></span>. Hard to convince some, though." He shakes his head. "Anyway, why're you asking me this? You're not leaving the island, are you?"
"My brother's gone with the currach. There's a boat heading over soon—"
"That fucking <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">eejit</span><span class="annotation-text">An idiot.</span></span>." He says it as if he's momentarily forgotten you're still there. "Sorry. Look, I told you already, let him sort it out. Do your own thing."
"I'm going, uncle."
He smirks. "Your ma never believed me, but I told her you'd be the stubborn one. That lad cares too much about what other people think of him, even if he'd never admit it. Are you worried you're going to run into wolves, or?"
"I just want to make sure I'm prepared."
That gets a laugh out of him. "They're not exactly going to be out hanging 'round every shite little <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">*crannóg*</span><span class="annotation-text">An artificial island built on a lake, usually encompassing a number of circular dwellings.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈkɾˠan̪ˠoːɡ/
English phonetic approximation: *Kran-owg*</span></span> you come across. Just avoid the woods and you'll be grand."
"That's exactly where he'd end up, though..." Solitary and self-sufficient; it makes sense to you.
"Ah, he's a fucking fisherman, Bríd, not a hunter. He won't last long on the mainland if that's where he runs to. You're more faith in him than that, surely?"
"Right, yeah..."
(if: $fergusTopics > 0)["Now any other stupid questions for me, while the day is young?"
[["Everything all right at home?"|Fergus - Home Life]]
(display: "Fergus - Return Questions")](else:)[(display: "Fergus - Return Exit")]</div><div class="img-wrapper"><img src="Images/C1/fergus.png" alt="A portrait of Fergus, a big bull of a man who looks weary." class="portrait-img"></img></div>
<div class="body-text">(set: $fergusTopics to $fergusTopics - 1)You withdraw the mirror from your bag. Its dull light finds his eye.
"What's that you have on you there?"
"A mirror." You're looking at yourself again, fed by a terrible compulsion. "Did you ever come across one of these on the mainland?"
He guffaws. "I did in my hole. Not a single cow to my name, <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bríd</span><span class="annotation-text">A feminine name, related etymologically to the name of the hearth goddess Brigid.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲɾʲiːdʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Breedj*</span></span>, as you well know. Where did *you* get that?"
You look up at him, say it with your eyes.
"Ah here... y-you're not..." (unless: $fetchedWater)[He peers into his already empty <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">mether</span><span class="annotation-text">A drinking vessel with a number of handles used throughout Ireland. Usually made of wood.</span></span>. "Get me some water, would you?"
You run dutifully over to the publican and return with a new vessel. He swigs it in one, surprisingly fluid, motion and then slams it back down on the wood with an assertive thud, a spare gesture that's enough to remind you that this man has killed people. Then, l(set:$fetchedWater to true)](else:)[L]ooking around as if he's half-afraid of who's listening, he leans down until he's eye-level with you and says conspiratorially, "He's let you in on it now, so he has. Smear you in pig shite and have you do invocations to the gods next."
"I'm not quite there yet, I'd say."
"And what did he want for this lovely gift? A virgin's blood?"
"Just asked me to bring the brother back."
He snorts. "Strange bedfellows."
"Don't think they've much in common. He was fiddling with a... what d'you call those eel yokes?"
"Hagfish," he says, unable to suppress a laugh. Your eyes widen in a moment of dark clarity.
"You're joking."
"I'm dead serious, Bríd. Shattering your perceptions of this place, no doubt."
"I..." You'd always been told that it was named <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Inis Caillí</span><span class="annotation-text">The name of the island you're from. Means 'island of the hag', after the local goddess.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈɪnʲɪʃ ˈkal̠ʲiː/
English phonetic approximation: *Innish Kalli*</span></span> for the island goddess, the old cow deity who survives mostly in the hushed whispers of the elderly, the one they call the Wise Hag. The word is the same: <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">*cailleach*</span><span class="annotation-text">An old woman; a hag.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈkal̠ʲəx/
English phonetic approximation: *Call-yuck*</span></span>, hag and hagfish. "But the goddess..."
"Haven't you heard, love?" He widens his eyes, looks up to the ceiling and affects a charitable imitation of the mummer, "Before the GODDESS, when this country was young, there was nothing but the sea, and hagfish in it." Then, back on you, in his own voice: "Not very sexy, I know. But then this has never been a particularly sexy place."
"So he was—"
"Honouring the land and sea, in his own weird way. No idea how he catches those fucking things; would want to be out wading in deep waters."
You're back looking into the mirror. "Is it true what he says, that it can deter the Folk?"
"You're asking the wrong man there. Not the foggiest notion.(if: (history:) contains "Fergus - History" or "Fergus - Wolves")[I'd say there'll be some gods-botherer on that boat you're heading over on who knows more about that kind of thing.]"
"Right so."
(if: $fergusTopics > 0)[(display: "Fergus - Return Questions")](else:)[(display: "Fergus - Return Exit")]</div><div class="img-wrapper"><img src="Images/C1/fergus.png" alt="A portrait of Fergus, a big bull of a man who looks weary." class="portrait-img"></img></div>
<div class="body-text">(set: $fergusTopics to $fergusTopics - 1)You navigate the question a little warily in your head. You've known him to be a pretty private man, <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Fergus</span><span class="annotation-text">A masculine name.
Modern English pronunciation (IPA): /ˈfɛɹɡəs/</span></span>; that's what led him to settle down here. You should couch it in worry, not curiosity, though you feel both.
"I... I hope everything's all right for you at home, uncle."
He looks at you with a wry smile, as if he's on to you, but it's not begrudging.
"Yeah, grand, just..." He runs a hand along the length of his face. "He's just acting the cunt, <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bríd</span><span class="annotation-text">A feminine name, related etymologically to the name of the hearth goddess Brigid.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲɾʲiːdʲ/
English phonetic approximation: *Breedj*</span></span>. Nothing I want to bore you with."
"You're always welcome to stay the night at ours," you say, regretting it almost as soon as the words leave your mouth. You're too nice for your own good sometimes.
"I'm not sure that invitation's yours to make, love, but thanks. I'd only be stinking of drink anyway."
You didn't want to say anything, but at least he's honest. He's stopped smiling and has that maudlin stare set on the corner again. It's quietened down a lot now, though the air is as dead as ever. You suspect the men are saving their energy for the upcoming festival.
(if: $fergusTopics > 0)[(display: "Fergus - Return Questions")](else:)[(display: "Fergus - Return Exit")]</div>He sighs. "Well, that's the story. When are you heading off?"
"Tonight."
"Right. The <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Bealtaine</span><span class="annotation-text">A spring festival held to mark the coming of summer. Like Samhain, it is a time of year when the borders between the worlds are especially diffuse. Associated with pasturing cattle, bonfires, and cleansing rituals.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə/
English phonetic approximation: *Bjal-ti-neh*</span></span> at <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">Trá Bhán</span><span class="annotation-text">The mainland village closest to Inis Caillí.
Modern Irish pronunciation (IPA): /t̪ˠɾˠɑː wɑːnˠ/
English phonetic approximation: *Traw wawn*</span></span>'s good <span class="definition"><span class="annotation">craic</span><span class="annotation-text">A versatile word meaning 'fun in good company'. 'What's the craic?' - 'What's up?'</span></span>. Big huge bonfires. You going?"
"Haven't decided yet." It'll depend on what you find once you get over there, you assume.
"Well, if you do go, watch that mummer's back for us, would you? I don't trust the cunt not to do something stupid."
"If I see him," you say, trying to sound as non-committal as possible. It's certainly not going to be your priority.
Some moments pass in silence. His head lolls and he jerks forward as if starting out of sleep, colliding his torso with that unsteady table and then gingerly grabbing it before the whole thing flips over. You realise it's probably time to go.
"I'll be off so, uncle."
"Mmm," he says, head sunk into his neck again. "G'luck."
You leave, unimpeded this time.
<div class="tutorial-text"><button class="tutorial-button">|mainmenu>[RESTART(click:"RESTART")[(reload:)]]</button></div>