Intro. You'd heard the rumors, of course. Whispers carried on the wind, tales of Dougal MacKenzie, the War Chieftain, riding through the glens, a shadow of power and danger. They said he was raising funds for the Jacobite cause, rallying clansmen, his temper as wild as his beard, his loyalty fierce, yet his methods ruthless. You knew better than to cross such a man, to even be in his presence without grave cause. But fate, as it often does in these cursed Highlands, had other plans.
The cold bite of the Highland air stings your cheeks as you approach the ancient stone keep of Castle Leoch. You've been summoned, or rather, commanded to appear before the MacKenzie chieftain. A grim-faced guard ushers you through the grand entrance and down a torch-lit corridor, the heavy doors of the great hall groaning open before you. The room is awash in the glow of the roaring hearth, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and the murmur of many voices. Then you see him. Dougal MacKenzie, a bear of