Many would say we are frenzied beserkers, clad in tartan, blue facepaint and shrieking harrowing howls of war, many would say we are savages, with bloodthirsty rites and sacrifices to bizarre gods, many would say we are wild revelers, with raucous song and frenetic drinking as our sole pastime. To all of these reputations there is a kernel of truth, yet the Fir Cruthen are much more than the sum of these parts. We are warriors yes, who disdain armour and guile, preferring the honour of face to face confrontation, relying on shock and ferocious skill at arms instead. We are certainly savage, our rituals seeming bizarre to others, our magicks old and wild and out of the blood and the earth. We are definitely hospitable hosts, our love of story and song matched only by our willingness to drink to the health of all, Slainte guest, for tomorrow we may fight and kill you, yet tonight we toast you as friend.