For those of you who may be curious as to where the Muirs come from…read the following story. It will help you better understand who we are and why we are the way we are. Enjoy!
The Myth of the Muirs
Long long ago, deep in the evergreen hills and forests of Scotland, where the trees grow tall and the men grow taller, lived a small clan of warrior vagabonds united under the crest of the Muirs of Rowallan. The clan was one of the most respected, and most feared clans in the region. They were often describes as giants, with thick red beards, long red hair, and muscles larger than tree trunks. Local British forts and soldiers who were attempting to control the local territories feared even the name of the Muir Clan, as they often used the decapitated heads of their British victims as bowls for Stone Soup and to burn PooPouri (a fragrant incense used to “freshen” their homes – often made of local wildflowers mixed with horse manuer).
A more hardened, dirty, hairy, rough and scary group of men was a rare find in those parts…almost as rare as finding a woman who didn’t resemble the men…beard and all. As the battles between the Muirs and the the British continued, the Muir Clan began to experience a strange feeling that they never had before. Suddenly, bashing the skulls of British soldiers was losing its fun. They had more than enough skull soup bowls and PooPouri bowls, and they were running out of British villages to pillage and plunder. They were bored. It wasn’t fun any more, and to add to it…the local woman were becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish from the men. After a case of mistaken identity with the Clan leader and a local woman, the men of the Clan decided that enough was enough…
The leader of the Muirs of Rowallan, a grizzled Scottish warrior by the name of Vaughn VanMuir, told the Clan that is was time to leave. He instructed them to build a ship from the bones of British soldiers, lashed together with rope made from the hair of their beards. The village sculptor created a life-size image dedicated to Vaughn as a tribute to the fearless Clan leader, and fastened it to the mast of the ship. It was a fearsome depiction of Vaughn; long flowing beard, huge rippling muscles, armor made from dragon scales, and a double edge sword taller than a British soldier.
The ship set sail accross the unchartered waters and after several months on the high seas, it ran aground in a strange and mystical place full of strange beasts, dragons, and beautiful women. They named the place Tanshel Lon Dravan or (Valley of the Dragon). As they left the ship, they set out through the thick dense vegetation in search of a place to settle. Vaughn instructed his men to make camp at the bottom of a jagged, dangerous mountain. As the leader of the Clan, Vaughn climbed the treacherous path to the top of the mountain to get a better look of the surrounding area. When he almost reached the top, his footing slipped and he tumbled down the mountainside into a deep, dark cave, where he was knocked unconscious. Several days later he awoke to a beautiful woman, hovering over him, nursing his wounds. He instantly fell in love with the woman, as he had never seen such beauty in all his life. She had soft, fair skin. She didn’t have a beard. When he looked into her eyes he could see a piercing blue flame, and when she spoke it was like the song of the wind carried through the Scottish Highlands…but she was no ordinary beautiful woman. She also had the legs, tail, and tounge of a Dragon. Vaughn was mystified and captivated…so much so that he forgot about his men at the base of the mountain. He spent months with his new love in the cave, and after several nights of hot, fire-breathing love, a child was born. His name would be DeVaughn VonMuir…it is he, who I (Devan Muir) am named after 