The chair screeched as it slid across the floor. The local community hall smelt of must, old floor polish, and the much more enticing aroma of fresh pastries and coffee. The other seats had been arranged in a circle facing each other and all were currently filled. The late arrival pulled their chair into a gap the others made for them and, unfolding it, took a seat.
"Ah Odin, you old git. Didn't think you were going to make it this week."
The voice carried about the room with a slight echo given the height of the roof. The area also doubled as a sports hall for the local badminton and basketball teams. Dagda slouched at his comfort and waited to see if his old friend had a reply. Odin settled himself almost mirroring the other’s casual slouch, then cleared his throat.

Midir looked down at the tear filled eyes of the youth in front of him.
Ten years old and growing up fast the kid was a joyful addition to the household. His keen mind and gentle nature showing more of his parents than he was yet to realise. The chieftain sat in his hall considering a fidchell board with much intensity when the wailing voice and trundling step had announced the child's arrival. He had hoped the matter would resolve itself in a manner that would not disturb him, but that was not to be the case. The Mac Oc had come straight to him, wet faced and gasping for the extent to which the emotion had overcome him. 
"What is this?" said Midir.

It stood a good four foot tall at the rounded hump of its shoulder, not counting the ruff of bristles which were more mo-hawk than mane. The rest of its hide was covered in a course matted hair, dark brown and rough to the touch. For those willing to get close enough to touch it that is. The array of prominent tusks protruding from its snout did a lot to discourage close proximity. These ivory coloured teeth erupted in two rows from both sides of its slavering mouth and gleamed with threat whenever the beast shook its head. It moved about pawing at the ground with its fore hoofs and gouging furrows with its tusks, all the while its dark piggy eyes watched intently for its prey. The scents inhaled by its broad flat nose told it where best to scrape and rake the soil under its feet. A beast of vast size and power, to look at it you might think it some fluke of natural order, some oddity for its height and girth, that was until it’s grating squawking squeal brought forth its kin. The boar gathered, each as monstrously massive as the last. 

“I don’t get it.”

It wasn’t the first time he had said those words in the last few minutes and I had to say I was now confused. Especially since they were the only words he had said to me so far. I had let myself in as usual, the door swinging open to the light turn of the handle. The fire was chomping merrily on its feed of turf, and the table between the arm chairs was set with two coffees and a plate of biscuits. I had slipped into my usual seat and related to him a joke I had heard on the way over to visit. The punchline had elicited the first ‘I don’t get it’ and now my attempted explanation had generated the second. Hence my confusion.

The hall rang with their revels. A frantic manic clashing of noise and energy.

The fires were stacked high, filling the centre of the space with flickering flames. Food and drink were there in abundance and consumed with avarice intent. Two groups of bards were set at either end of the hall their performances setting a discordant drone as the collections of lordling placed demand after demand on them to change the tone to their own personal tastes. Everywhere there were weapons and armour, carelessly discarded as the warhost had returned from their raid, taking their spoils to wherever they might enjoy them best.