Feathers flying everywhere, the clucking of stray chickens rampaging around the farmyard. Tacen was doing his best to herd them together and catch the strays, but so far little luck. An idyllic setting set against a beautiful green hillside, on an otherwise peaceful isolated farm. Not so today, several fences were broken and the place looked a mess.

Lunging for one feathered friend, the blond-haired teenager ended up flat on his face, chin in the dirt and eye level with someone’s dusty boot. ”Stop playing with yer food lad!” Came a not-too-helpful call from the sidelines, the visage of an older sailor with an eyepatch, far too long on land, put down his 'morning constitutional' ale and joined Tacen's plight.

Tasked with rounding up some particularly troublesome poultry might sound like an easy task, but not when these had been spooked by a fox the night before, leaving half of them with the inability to walk around or do much of anything else. Having tidied up that unfortunate mess, now men on the farm battled about twenty remaining chickens that had got loose from their coup thanks to foxes' vandalism, all for the promise of two good chicken-inspired meals for their small traveling artisan troupe.

“Got one!” Tacen said triumphantly.

Bwawk!!!! The chicken showed him what she thought of that, with a feathery flutter of its wings out of his arms.

”Dammit lad!” 

Sadly for this lovely remote country farm, foxes were the least of their worries. A half dozen men were headed this way, and their intent was not at all related to poultry. An arrow was readied in a bow...