In the shadows of the past, Ath Dara was a place of gathering, of learning. It was said among those who pass down the stories of old that there were some in that dim past who could speak to the spirits of the animals, the trees. That is lost to us now, if it ever was true. Within our home lies the remains of several ancient henges, where our ancestors partook of sacred rites; it has always been and will remain a place of balance, living within our place in the circle. Birth, death, rebirth, the endless cycle. When the call to war came under the leadership of the Rhyne, we did not shy away; the balance had to be kept. We came, our herblore and old arts of healing helping those stricken. The shadows among the trees, those who know the forest as much as they know themselves, striking out with storms of arrows using skills honed down through time as a necessity for survival. Crashing from the trees, the howling of An fiach fiáin striking fear into our enemies. Now we settle again, within our ancestral home, to live, to work, to dwell alongside nature. Honing our skills in harmony with that which we protect.
Ón mbás, saol. From death, life. It is the circle, life, death, rebirth; it is where we dwell. If one is to take a tree from our land, one is to be planted; hunt the animals of the land, but only so much as is needed to live. What we take, we return. As has been, as always will be. Our land welcomes those who wish to live with the land; those who would produce from the land;those who hunt or heal. We of Ath Dara look to know all there is of the herbal arts, lumbering following our tenets, leatherworking, bowyers and fletchers will always be welcomed. Those who would work the wood or those who would use the reagents of the land to create wonders, those who wish to care for and raise domestic animals to take the burden from the land and provide sustenance in that way or those who would wish to tame the beasts of the wild. Those who would protect all of this will find a home among An fiach fiáin, The Wild Hunt.