Ah, yes, the Blackberry Brigade. A society of brewer-warriors who drew strength from the mulled blackberry wine they were famous for. Not too far from where Hulwen had his realization were the rows of trellises, twisted with vines and thorns, that marked the Brigadeer's Vineyard, home of the order and their leader, Fíniúna.

Crossing the threshold of the Vineyard, Hulwen could smell the distinct scent of crushed blackberries in the distance. Following his nose, he came upon a familiar scene - the end of the work week was here, and so the Brigade had begun the crushing of the berries. Twenty odd solid oak casks had been laid out in a row, each filled close to the brim with blackberries. The music of a fiddle sauntered through the air as a group of saytrs, wood woads, sidhe and a curupria or two each took turns jumping and stomping upon the harvest, preparing them for the process of becoming wine. The Brigade laughed and shouted as handfuls of crushed berries were flung through the air, sometimes splattering across a face, sometimes landing in a mouth. As Hulwen looked on, a particularly large clump hurtled through the air towards him.

Spoiler: DC 15 Reflex Save
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On a failure, Hulwen's face is splattered with berry juice. On a success, he may choose to either move out of the way, or catch it in his mouth.