The Accursed Ones: Part Two

Clutched in the Eagles grasp, you soared through the Astral Realms, spotted with the ethereal stars which seemed to drip with celestial dew.

You felt the weight of this place pressing on your mind, the image of the shadowy figure and its colossal words echoing in the back of your head.

"I need to find my friend!" You yelled as the roar of the cosmos rushed by. "You have to take us back!"

The gigantic bloody bird let out a staggering caw of disapproval. "If you're too scared to go back, fine, but I won't leave her there. L-Let me go, I'll do it myself!"

You gripped the Eagle's congealing talons, trying to free them from your shoulders.

But its grip tightened and with a few agitated pecks, you felt the creature dip its wings, and double back on itself as it swept into a staggering dive.

The night melted away as you cut through the clouds suddenly bathed in the radiant rays of the morning sun; shining upon the swamp below... only, it was different than before.

The Grim mass of muck, mud and brambles, cloaked with enigma and stinking of **** had all but vanished, replaced by rolling wetlands awash with crystal clear streams of flowing water, legions of tall oaks with fuzzy manes of leaves coloured with emerald and gold. Every inch of the floral marsh squeaked and croaked with the sounds of grasshoppers and toads, hopping and skipping about the blooms of lilies and dandelions.

Darting downwards, the earth approached faster than you could react and felt the harsh pressure in your ankles as the Eagle dropped you on a soft bank, swooping back up into the vast blue as you tried to arose on shaky feet.

"OH JUST GONNA FLY OFF, OKAY, ALRIGHT, WELL THANKS SO MUCH! YOU FUCKING -- LIQUID CHICKEN!" You roared, punching the air with your fist as the Blood Eagle vanished back into the clouds.

Stepping uncertainly below the treeline of this serene place, you began to recognize your surroundings.

"This is the same place as before... but, it's so beautiful here now, peaceful even. Jesus Dad, what did you do?"

Walking cautiously across the spotted dips and rises of green grass you, tried to follow the same path as before, but found that without the motivation of the many-limbed creature at your back that this valley of beauty was much harder to navigate... that is, until the sweetest of tunes, echoed from a small distance away.

The tapping of drums, the exited scream of enthusiastic flutes and the stomping of feet served as a beacon to follow. Only a few meters and calculated steps through the thick underbrush led you to a vast grove, that opened up into a radiant hollow.

It was the very same Marshland Village to be sure, with the same huts nestled deep into the bog, though the stained and engraved wood and thatched rooves were clean and untested by time.

"!!!" You swivelled around, claws bared as a presence burst from the trees... but your hands lowered as you saw a pair of kids, both thoroughly dishevelled but with great smiles on their faces as they rushed down the stream towards the lively music in the Village.

"Hurry up, Connel! I won't be fishing when there's a jig to be had!" Cried the girl, laughter and joy in her voice as she dragged her friend along.

Smiling a little, you decided to follow the little mites further inside. The village was small, home to only fifty people give or take, but the natural beauty of it was hypnotic; almost ethereal. You wondered where the rest of its populace had gotten to, that was until the barefooted brats drew you directly to your answer.

At the head of the village was nothing less than a vast celebration. A massive crowd of fair-haired, fair-skinned folk pranced about a blazing bonfire, in their Celtic wear, all cotton shirts, golden rings and vibrant shawls which whipped at the air as an orchestra of drums, flutes, harps and fiddles dazzled your senses with a lively tune which boomed all around you.

You found yourself chuckling as they locked arms, spiralling together joyfully before converging on the largest hut in the village, built into a huge tree covered in leaves of stark crimson.

Watching with fascination, the doors to the great hut opened and stepping forth was a woman of insurmountable beauty. She wore little but the red spirals and silver forged rings which clinked as her bare breasts giggled freely, raven feathers tucked into every facet of her braided red hair.

It couldn't be... but of course it was, you barely recognized her as she was before; soaked in blood with a vengeance crushing away her intricate features.

She walked in a lordly gate out into the crowd, who extended their arms in reverence as she opened her scarlet lips and began to sing with the voice of an angel.

"'Sí do mhaimeo í, 'sí do mhaimeo í
'Sí do mhaimeo í, cailleach an airgid

'Sí do mhaimeo í, ó Bhaile Inis Mhóir í
'S chuirfeadh sí cóistí ar bhóithre Cois Fharraige..."
She sang in a voice, soft yet powerful.

"Seorsia..." You muttered as she smiled widely, her golden eyes gleaming in the sunlight as she rushed into the crowd, twirling and shaking her wide hips.

"...Dá bhfeicfeá' an "steam" 'ghabhail siar Tóin Uí Loin'
'S na rothaí 'ghabhail timpeall siar ó na ceathrúnaí

Chaithfeadh sí 'n stiúir naoi n-vair' ar a cúl
'S ní choinneodh sí siúl le cailleach an airgid...."

Her arms, lean with muscle, silver rings chiming shot into the air beckoning all around her to join, and so they did, joining in a choiring chant as they spun together as one.

"Sí do mhaimeo í, 'sí do mhaimeo í
'Sí do mhaimeo í, cailleach an airgid

'Sí do mhaimeo í, ó Bhaile Inis Mhóir í
'S chuirfeadh sí cóistí ar bhóithre Cois Fharraige!!!"

These were the Moores, you knew it, you felt it. The descendants of the old world, the House of Quinn.

But the text described them as bloodthirsty monsters, the Dapper Man said so himself, how could such a beautiful people commit such atrocities?

...Yet Another question, answered too soon.

The two children from before swarmed with many others on a small structure behind the Great Hut, and you felt your smile fade as the hoard of kids dragged the squirming and wriggling form of an old woman, bound in thick rope and gagged with cloth.

Her hair was matted, stained with dried blood. The wound on her head barely dried after, what was clearly, a near-fatal blow to the crown. The Villagers yelled and hissed as the children together pulled her through the mud and muck to Morrigan's feet.

The song died out as quickly as it had started, a hideous silence overcame the villagers who scowled with hatred at the bound woman whose screams were suffocated in her bondage.

The Morrigan opened her arms and from the Great Hut emerged two women, both painted and braided like Seorsia herself, although one was black of hair with emerald paint zig-zagging across her perky chest and narrow face, and the other boasted a partly shaved brown head, with yellow paint waving about her stocky form.

These two women carried between them, an old man covered in a cloak of bright gold and stormy grey. So shrivelled and small was this elderly figure that he could barely walk without the help of the two women grasping his arms.

Waddling along, he looked without seeing and twitched oddly every so often. Moving closer, you felt something spark within your blood. Curious, you pricked a finger "Mhalia" the shadowed blade of Lugh lept from your skin and became tangible in your hands.

It seemed to shimmer and spark with embers along its dark blade as the Old man was guided down into a stool by Morrigans side.

If these Descendants took after the Gods of Celtic Mythology as evidenced by what you'd heard in prior battles, such as Dagda, Epona and of course Morrigan, you tried to deduce who each of them was supposed to be.

"Those two women share Seorsia's features, that must make them her sisters. damn, I should have brushed up on more Celtic Mythology... what were they called? Macha and... Neman was it? Both war goddesses like Morrigan, extensions of her in some texts." But the question still remained, who was the old man?

The Black Blade trembled in your hands, as the Ancient lord staggered into a sitting position, swaying threateningly as if he'd fall off without somebody to brace him there.

"He... he's Lugh, the King of the Sun and the Storm himself. He fought against Dracula for the right to sit on the throne of **** if Seorsia is to be believed. The crazy old bastard, he must have still been mortal when he fought him" No wonder he looked so broken, his soul had been torn out, harnessed as one of the materials used to fashion very Omen blade, blazing steadily in your hands.

The congregation seemed complete, and with all gathered, Morrigan spoke. "For a thousand years, the Clan of Quinn has defended this Exalted Grove, the Neads of our kin, from invaders and outsiders, one such filthy fucker has wandered into our borders, hoping to leech from our land."

The Crowd spat and hissed angrily, the bound woman sobbed as they surrounded her "It is here, that we, the people of the Moores reside. In the Grove where the first of the gods walked, free from the darkness that haunts our blood, and it is here in this Exalted Grove that we shall stand guard for the rest of our days."

All cheered for the Morrigan and knelt at her feet.

"Glory to the Moores, Glory to Defiled King Lugh, **** to the Invaders!" Neman roared along with the others, as Lugh began to dribble dumbly. "Take her flesh, feed us, great mother, make us strong!"

"Fuckin what?" You muttered, blinking, tumbling their words around in your head "Take... her..."

"FLESH! GIVE US FLESH!" the children cried, and from the crowd was beckoned a hulking brute. The man was gigantic, bigger than Boris by a head.

Dagda, the titan who had battled ferociously in one of your battles with the Moores in the present was filled with vigour and smiled menacingly as he hoisted up the old woman with one hand and drew three, a nasty-looking iron blade, ripe to rend the flesh from her bones.

You wanted to rush in, to stop this atrocity from taking place and so you held up Lugh's blade, aware that it was in vain for you were nothing but a ghost in this place of astral memory, almost reflexively, as you went to rush through the crowd a distance whistle could be heard.

Like the hoard of cannibal celts around you, you peered up into the sky and saw a small dot shining in the blue sky. It took you a second but deja-vu quickly struck as the silver dot rapidly grew larger and closer.

"TAKE COVER!" Dagda roared, as the silver disc spinning like a bat out of hell collided with one of the huts, shattering it into smithereens as it exploded into splinters. The silver disc didn't stop there, it bounced and then darted through the mud, ripping up the earth around it in a path of destruction. Although, it pushed out of the Village itself and began to circle the town with incredible speed, kicking up grass and stone which stained all in sight with muck and rubble.

You turned your head in confusion as your blade... split in two, no... it moved forward, along with an arm, armoured in plate black as night, shining onyx and silver against the sunlight.

The figure moved through you, holding the Blade of Lugh's twin up silently, a five-pointed mask strapped to his black-haired head.

Moving around, you grinned as you looked at the man, a Black Knight adorned in a flowing shoulder cape, his back straight, his intent; killer.

"What is this!? what are you, how dare you come to this place!" Morrigan roared, charging forward, fists balled and red-faced as she approached the dark knight before her, unstirred.

You jolted as gnashing iron teeth smashed into the ground before you. Another man dressed in a coat of black scales, his helm wolfish as it clanged open and shut in a biting motion.

Morrigan staggered backwards, as the Iron-toothed beast seemed ready to pounce... but the Star-masked man took his father's arm "Not yet..." He spoke in a familiar tone.

The Mad-Dog tensed as he turned to look back at his son "The woman will die, if do not act."

"I don't believe so." The Black Star said softly "...Allow me to parley with them first."

"They will not listen." The Mad-dog growled.

"Perhaps, but they are technically family, barbarians or not. Let me do this, Pops." The Star asked cordially.

The Mad-dog relaxed slightly, raising a hand and pushing it between his iron-jawed helm. A loud whistle pierced the air and the spinning wheel of silver destruction halted before darting towards them and halting at their sides deftly.

The Rabbit mask looked on as the bellowing cape whipped in the wind, the words engraved into the fabric, spelt 'DESTROY'

"What are you doing, you want to talk to them - after this? they are going to eat her!" Hilde's voice was unmistakable.

The Star unbuckled the back of his mask to reveal a sombre, calm visage, that of your father. He smiled at his sister "You do the Killing, but only after I do the talking."

Hilde grunted, her silver-bladed boots shining threateningly as she strode off "Talk then, but one wrong move-"

"Yeah-yeah" Roman rolled his eyes at his sister, as he stepped forward, planting his flaming black blade in the dirt at his feet.

Raising his hands to show himself unarmed, Roman approached the skittish crowd. Many had drawn blades, clubs or axes when Hilde had thrust herself upon them, but it was the Morrigan who seemed to quell them, staring long and hard into your father's golden eyes.

"Hail." He said, not in English but in their own Celtic dialect.

"You speak our tongue?" Morrigan questioned harshly.

"I speak all tongues, as is a requirement of my position," Roman said.

"You speak all fancy, all you pricks from the outside are the same."

"Not us." Roman said confidently "You are the Quinn Clan are you not? Then you must be the leader. Oh the things I've heard about you, could make a battle-hardened general sob like a schoolgirl." he laughed, you still weren't used to seeing him look so joyous. It was the same as when he confronted Artorias in the vision prior as if the only thing that was worth living for in Roman's world was the heat of confrontation, a battlefield in which he always emerged victorious.

Morrigan's sisters stared long and hard at the trio, Dagda also narrowed his eyes and sniffed like a dog on a hunt. Seorsia seemed to catch on quickly as she moved a little closer. "No... no it cannot be. You... you're, like us? All of you are like us?"

Roman nodded " I am Romulus the Jury, She - and I wouldn't recommend scowling at her like that - is my sister, Remus, or Remhilde as she likes to be called these days, she is the executioner. And this Old Iron hound beside me is our father, Artorious the Ashen Judge, You may have heard of him. We, like you, are Descendants of the First."

Seorsia made a strange face, like a baby seeing a rainbow for the first time, trying to unravel its mystery.

"You lie. You do not descend from our Gods!" Cried Dagda, his square face tightening with wrath "Sister, let me cave in this pretty like shadow's face, I beg you!"

Morrigan held up a hand, studying Roman closely "Descendant of the first, the first what?"

"The First creature to live in ****."

"The Dark one? he thinks we descend from the dark one, foolish outsider, it was our gods who killed the dark one!" Neman insisted.

"There is only one god who walks in the realms of man, Cain the God of **** and Hunger. He was damned in the age before the golden age of mankind to walk the earth in endless forms for the rest of time. Doubtless, you have encountered the Undead before? they too are his creations, through his venomous bite. We however are descended from his children and his children's children, it is what gives us our power to influence time and space."

There was recognition in Morrigan's eyes, she was clearly connecting the dots between the threads and these powers your father spoke of. "That's not possible..."

"Tell me, girl, how long has it been since you've left this place?" Artorias called, his voice echoing in his dog helm.

"You will speak to our sister with respect!" Dagda started but Morrigan swivelled around.

"Silence." She growled, and Dagda quieted down. "We have never ventured outside of this grove. the earth provides, and the flesh of those who defile our land with their touch serves us aplenty."

"And why do you think that you'd hunger for the flesh of men in the first place?" Artorias laughed "Do you really think that your gods would allow such a dishonourable kill in their hallowed land? the reality is that we have evil within us, but it is in protecting mankind, not killing them as the Leeches do, that we find penance"

"It's all meaningless." Remhilde began "You can sacrifice them and fill your bellies as much as you wish. It will not change what we are. Monsters are monsters, we just choose prey that actually poses a challenge."

Morrigan's brow twitched with anger "We have practised our faith since a time long-forgotten.

We have been tested time and time again, by the darkest creatures just like you say. They too tried to stir us, but to no avail... we did not change then, and we will not change now."

The Villagers raised their blades and clubs and axes.

Your father's smile faded "I see. I came here to save a child's grandmother, vanished into the swamp never to return, not for a blood bath. I take it you are not to proud to wager?"

"What use is gambling with dead men?" Morrigan growled.

"Everything, when you know the terms. Hear me out." Your father tempted her, and it seemed to work if only a little.

"Speak quickly."

"A duel between us, to the call of defeat. If you defeat me, you will have my corpse. Devouring me will grant you far more power than some meagre old woman, and of course, you'll get back your king's old soul..." He raised Lugh's blade, the Villagers seemed fearful of it the moment he'd come. "...My father and sister will leave this place forever, you will be left to your worship in peace."

"How do we know that there aren't more out there like you? that you'll keep your word?" Morrigan hissed.

"There was once, a long time ago, but they much like you, are inactive, or have been culled into extinction. Romulus is our Heir, as you are for your tribe. We are obliged to obey his dying wish with absolute diligence as is our way. We will do as he says if you take his terms. and make the oath" Artorias explained.

Seorsia seemed intrigued "And what if I agree to your terms, what do you stand to gain from this battle?"

Roman's smile, returned "If I win, I will take you and both of your sisters to bed, to do with as I please..."

Remhilde scoffed "Typical."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow in a cold perplexity, Neman looked bemused and Macha blushed profusely. Dagda spat on the ground.

Roman continued "You will remain here indefinitely as is your wish, but you will stop devouring any poor local who accidentally picks a cherry bush on your land.

Instead, you will simply banish them, unharmed. These oaths must not be taken lightly."

"You're a talker, we honour actions here in our grove, not words. You really expect me to cower under such idle threats?" Morrigan grinned maliciously, the shadow of betrayal lingering beneath her sunlit eyes.

"Oh yes." Roman whispered "...Jury I may be, but I will put this entire village to the sword if I must. No one will be spared, I will see to it personally, that's not to mention what my beloved sister will do to you if you betray that Oath, such horrors could be easily avoided, My lady."

"Enough!" Dagda stomped onward, dripping with ire as he put a humungous paw on his sister's shoulder "Sister, you must not fall for this serpent's poisonous words. We outnumber them ten to one, we could be done with this right now, and reclaim our Uncle's soul regardless of that accursed blade."

Morrigan looked up to Dagda, then back to Roman again, the gears turning in her head. She pondered the challenge, hungered for it as was clearly her nature, Your dad always his homework, the embodiment of battle would never stoop so low as to avoid the prospect of such a legendary battle.

"You would wager such a stupid thing as sex and peace, over an absolute victory? Your family is clearly powerful, why not just take us unawares?" Asked Neman, looking your elegant father up and down curiously.

His mood seemed to change, his face revealing the smallest flickers of sincerities "My mother told me stories about you guys growing up, of the fiercest warriors the descendants had ever known, trapped in their little box because of age-old traditions. We were the same once, and let me tell you, the world outside of this place has advanced in ways you couldn't imagine. It taught us to fight with Honour, and in matters of battle, Drakes don't compromise.

Take the challenge, Seorsia the Morrigan, and recognise the truth as it is."

You wondered what he meant by that, whatever the hidden meaning was, Seorsia seemed to understand, even if her own clan didn't at all.

"Seorsia, don't..." Dagda started, but Seorsia took her brother's hand softly and turned back to her people.

"Take Father Lugh, take the women and children and go to the Mother tree, do not leave until I return. Men, stay guard here, if you smell the smallest scent of treachery from the other two then kill them." She called, making the crowd ooze with unease at her orders.

Roman grinned like a hyena. "So you swear to the Oath then? Blood and Glory, or Sex and Peace?" He tempted.

Morrigan turned back and marched onwards pushing past your father aggressively "I swear it, Blood and Glory, or sex and peace. Keep up, you're father and sister will stay here and not move. Your word."

He peered at Artorias and Remhilde sternly.

Artorias waved to his son as he made to wander off "Make it quick, Romulus, this swamp is making my bones itch."

Remhilde however, narrowed her eyes at Morrigan and her people, strolling casually towards them. All scuttled away from her aura of malice as she approached the bound old woman in the mud and sat crossed-legged at her side.

Roman gave her a silent nod and followed after Morrigan deeper into the sunlit marsh.