The Beginning of the
Celtic Highlanders of Britannia


The Scribe bows his head as he records yet another Guildname to the list inside the already large volume. Ink stained fingers grip the quill as he dips it into the pot, his embellished script flowing majestically across the page. After glancing at the oil lamp to make sure it is full, he begins speaking to himself in hushed tones. "Yet another group who wouldst think to uphold the virtues of this land. I wonder if they shalt triumph, or if they shalt fail like so many others hath? Only time shall telleth the tale, only time."

He places the quill back into the pot before reaching inside a small bag, removing some of the contents carefully. Letting his fingers move slowly, he sprinkles the drying sands across the page until the letters he has written set. Tilting the book he blows over his text just to make sure it is dry before closing it with a soft sound. "Tis recorded, my job here ist done."

Standing he crosses the room to place the leatherbound pages on a shelf, his expression one of thoughtfulness and wisdom. "Whilst my job is done, their's ist just beginning. Tis no easy task they hath undertaken, I wish them much luck ast well ast prosperity." Picking up a nearby lamp he leaves the room, wondering what the future holds for this newest guild, the Celtic Highlanders of Britannia.