Chapter Text
Prologue:
While the Aesir fought the Jotnar in the frozen wastelands of Scandinavia, a great many of the Alfar, elves, traveled more of Midgard, looking for trade, good taverns, and adventures of all sorts. Some settled in the British Isles. When Odin ordered the removal from Midgard of all other Realms' peoples and instituted a strict Non-Involvement Policy, several of the elves, especially those who had chosen the British Isles as home, completely ignored him, which was, by far, their favorite occupation. Those elves are long gone now, but the core of several Clans, both in Ireland and Scotland, still claim direct descendance from them. Most of the Alfar traits aren't there any more, but each Clan has one or two particularly strong gifts in the direct line.
These are the Scottish Clans of Alfar descent and their gifts:
The Baird Clan runs strongly towards the Bardic gifts: master creators of something-from-nothing of all sorts, be it tales, artwork, artificers, engineering or music, the ability to speak with birds of better-than-average intelligence – resulting in a treaty with the eagles that dwelt near the clan lands, and a marked ability as “silver tongues” which has enabled them to talk their way out of nearly all of the usual trouble most Scottish clans are known for, despite being easily as involved in the doings of Scotland as even the most...busy of other clans.Clan Bruce have an unusually high number of strategist-sorcerers, capable of using siedr to track lines of connection between people, places, and events that have already happened, to best deploy troops, start rumors that become historical fact, and create networks of people who have no reason to be connected yet are. The gift is evenly distributed among genders, although the traditional role of a female strategist-sorcerer was to manipulate diplomacy and politics, while the men tended toward battle plans. It's nothing a good General and a few Spymasters working together couldn't have done, but it's simply so much quicker and easier for the strategist-sorcerers. Because it's a subtle skill, many in the know believe Clan Bruce to have weakened the bloodline and lost the strongest powers. Nothing could be further from the truth, as the strongest in the Clan have been issuing warnings to others, telling them to stay under the radar, since WWI when the lines began to point to another great battle, since nobody wanted the line shattered. A few, select, members of Clan Bruce, most notably Robert the Bruce of historic fame, have had a tiny touch of foresight, not so strong as to be called seers, but prone to a nudge in the right direction at the right time and to lend faith and encouragement when all seems lost.
Drummond leans towards...disruption and chaos. Much to both their glory and their woe. Should a suitable and beneficial means of causing chaos (Caltrops to the English Cavalry! Marbles in the hall!) fail to present itself for too long a time, it tends to assert itself, loudly, in whatever way it can, historically resulting in Drummond men doing remarkably stupid things for no apparent reason. The women of Drummond, being by far more subtle than the men, have used this to be rather more influential on powerful spouses than many other Scotswomen can achieve, using their spouses to manage all of their political chaos for them, while keeping said men wrapped around their fingers.
The clan of Dunbar, all told, would probably be the most boring of the Alfar clans, were it not for a few wise, if eventually hilarious, decisions. Dunbar's gift is agriculture and husbandry. Yes it's as boring as it sounds. They have a knack for animals and growing things, aiding their growth, speaking with them, knowing what they need and how to provide it best. The direct line of Dunbar grows the largest, healthiest, most succulent crops, breeds the strongest, healthiest, and most intelligent livestock, horses, and hounds, and “trains” their horses and hounds more thoroughly and effectively than any others. However, through “Black Agnes,”Countess Dunbar, daughter of Thomas Randolph, the nephew of Robert the Bruce, the Daughters Of Dunbar also have access to the lower levels of the Bruce gift, as well as a remarkably strong tendency to be appallingly stubborn, problematically quick witted, brazen, "boistrous, brawling wenches" beyond even the norm for Scotswomen.
MacBain's primary gift is a druidic form of semi-shape-shifting, spirit-shifting, as it were, binding the soul to the essence of an animal, often wolves, bears or great cats, and gaining both physical and mental benefits and attributes from that animal: denser bones, more efficient muscles, sharper teeth and nails, better endurance and/or speed, tougher skin, better senses, instincts more closely tied to the animal's but able to be overridden by the mind, etc.
MacGillivray is particularly full of Kitchen Witches, which is to say, people who can mystically make five potatoes, a head of cabbage, and a bit of chicken bone feed twenty men full, or ten MacBain shifters, or Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Jane (who, when she remembers to eat, can easily put away as much as the enhanced Avengers do.) Such food also tends to be a mild all-around anti-toxin, anti-venom and antidote, as well as speeding healing and recovery, and mildly relaxant, as if one had just drunk a pint of ale.
Clan MacKay, on the northernmost coast of the main part of Scotland, are primarily elemental water masters, sometimes to the point of being capable of limited shape shifting to sea mammals, but always great sailors, swimmers, and fishermen, even when their siedr is weak. The folklore of Selkies comes from the strongest gifts within Clan MacKay.
MacNicol contains primarily bainsidhes, people with a strong gift for siedr and a wail that can be heard for miles and at shorter range, usually somewhere less than a quarter-mile, can be lethal to non-bainsidhes. This is where bainsidhes as a portent of doom in folklore have come from, “If you hear a bainshide crying (sometimes 'singing'), someone will die, if you see a bainsidhe crying, you will die.”
Clan Macrae's gift is what they call “Shadow calling”: the ability to call and control semi-tangible, animate shadows, usually hunting types like wolves & hounds or the great cats, some of which are usually large enough to ride, and they, with anything or anyone they carry can "jump" from shadow to shadow and through things, moving VERY quickly, but are real enough when they strike. A full Hunt, with all the Shadow Callers of Macrae, is only summoned in times of dire need for, or when extreme vengeance is demanded by the morals and sensibilities of, all of the Scottish Clans, both Alfar descendants and pure human. The Huntsman of folklore is the strongest Caller currently alive, and usually either the Clan Chief or next in line.
Clan Ogilvie, frankly, SHOULD be populated entirely by spies, as their gift is best described as “these are not the droids you are looking for.” Some would call it low-level illusions, but it is really as simple as encouraging the mind of others to see only and exactly what they expect to see. However, partially due to the social mores of the time, instead of spywork, the Ogilvie men went to one morally appropriate war after another, often standing just behind a person of import, and living up to the Clan Motto: “To the end.” The ultimate supporting characters, they frequently sacrificed themselves to save the life of the “Hero” of the story. The Ogilvie women, however, being accorded on account of their femininity no honor at all in most of eurpean history, had no honor or reputation to maintain and gleefully became spymasters of renown.
Ruthven is the only clan whose gift is also directly a curse. The Ruthven Line gives off a passive aura influencing those around them to favor them, quietly whispering “like me, like me, like me...” in the back of their minds, the stronger gifteds can choose to turn the “volume” and “tone” of this aura up or down whispering to screaming “don't hate me,” “like me,” “I'm your faaavoriteee,” or “LOVE ME.” However, the influence wears off over time spent outside the aura, and the longer, louder, and higher the tone of the aura's use, the farther and faster the other direction it will go, as was discovered by less-than noble John Ruthven, Third Earl of Gowrie, who returned home from Padua University in 1600, having been accused of practicing Black Magic, believed by many of those who are aware of the Alfar lines to have been caused by using his gift to coerce otherwise unwilling women into his bed and stoke furvor for him among the women of the town, only to be murdered along with his brother Alexander in their townhome, convicted of treason post mortem, and the entire family stripped of lands and titles until the early 20th century. The other clan lines would be wary of all of Ruthven were it not for the fact that the Ruthven gift appears not to work on other Alfar descendants.
For Urquhart, the most common of these gifts is the Alfar version of All Speak, which, while being mutually exclusive with the Aesir version, allows them to learn, to fluency, any language they are exposed to within a handful of minutes listening to conversation or reading any extant text in that language.
Clan Wallace breeds large men, even when the Alfar blood is thin enough not to have any noticeable effects. This is amplified in the clan's warriors when they prepare for battle, even the weakest of the blood appearing larger and the strongest of the line actually changing size in the moments before meeting battle. The legends of great Celt warrior heroes 'warping' and becoming massive berserkers that cannot be reasoned with until they sate the need for battle comes from witnessing a particularly strong Wallace descendant. In actuality, you can reason with an enlarged Wallace, just not easily and you will have to fight to keep said Wallace still while you do. While most picture the males of the Clan being this way, the woman have the ability as well, often with finer control over the appearance of size while not engaging in a physical conflict. Anyone who ever got scolded by a five nothing Scotswoman and felt like they were towered over probably pissed off a long distant female relation to Clan Wallace. (For the love of all you consider holy, do not EVER attempt to “reason” with a Wallace woman who is enraged enough to have changed size, you will only anger them further and extend your agony, especially if harm to her children was in any way involved in her enragement. The only weeping will be over the rug your intestines will have messed.)
Before the Massacre at Glencoe, Clan MacDonald counted among the Alfar Clans of Scotland, however, all the Alfar bloodline, and the gifted ones died there. The bloodline and their gift are gone. Ironically, they were the seers, but as the limitation on all of them was that they couldn't see their own deaths, and all died the same way on the dame day... no one saw it coming.