Fergus O’Doherty, the towns stick whittler had come across a method of whittlin’ sticks that embodied properties perfect for whackin’. The other day Fergus went out to the wood to get him some “perfect” Shillelagh-makin’ sticks and took his bottle of whiskey with him. Ol’ Fergus O’Doherty nary returned. It’s been a few days now and the town-folk have decided that he’s been gone too long to be explained by a mere whiskey-bender. The wood he entered is just a few miles through the potato-farms to the south and the road goes around the old woods due to it bein’ “haunted”. Farmers swear that lights and sounds are heard from within at certain times of year or month and the first few teams that went to investigate, nary returned themselves. Why Ol’ Fergus would risk it is unknown, but someone needs to find him to return him to his whittlin’.