Amongst the clangs and clatter of the battlefield, a voice rose upwards to cling itself to the others dieing and fighting ~You go home this night to your home of winter, to your..home~ The words of the aging warrioress was briefly interrupted as a well muscular bronze arm swung her knicked unadorned sword to block an assault directed towards her, sending instead her doeskin clad foot into the gut of the grizzy man to drive him away from her.::~of FALL, of SPRING, of SUMMER, You... go home this night.. to the Turning HOUSE, to your pleasant rest in the LAND OF JOY~ ::stressing her words as the sword was brought forward to jab inside a man's heart, with a wicked smile curling up equally bronzed lips adding to the war crazied gleam in cool grey orbs, strong fingers gave her sword a mighty twist to add more to her assualt. Watching as her victim dropped lifelesslly to the grass, bathing the green blades red with his lifeforce. Still the death song continued:: ~Rest you, rest, and away with sorrow, ..Rest this night in the Mother's Breats.. Rest you, rest, and away with sorrow,.. Rest, o beloved.. with the Mother's kiss.. In the Many Colored Land; in the LAND OF THE DEAD;... In the Plain of Joy;... In the Land Beneath the Wave;.. In the Land of Youth;.. In the Land of the EVER-LIVING;.. in the Revolving Castle, the House of Donn~ ::Blood stained the face lined with wisdom, wisdom of the battlefield. Dishwater blonde locks cut jaggedly against the back of her neck except for three long braids that jumped and danced about wildly at each move she made. The braid that framed the left side of her face was dyed a deep dark hunter green, the others on her right side were dyed a deep dark red for blood, while the other was a deep midnight blue.::~Rest in seven lights, beloved.. rest in seven joys, beloved.. rest in seven sleeps beloved.. In the GROVE of the CAULDRON, MORRIGAN'S SHRINE.. the shadow of death is on your face, beloved~:: Another slash with her sword sent a fresh batch of blood to her body and face yet it phased it not, hacking her way like the crazed war goddess she was dubbed after.. At the moment she was worried not for her eighteen year old daughter fighting in the same style and manner as she, while the pet crow circled the battle field for Morrigan.::~But the Cauldron of REBIRTH awaits you... the threefold turning of your Fate,.. when you rest has given you your peace... So rest in the calm..of all calms, rest.. in the wisdom of all wisdoms.. rest in the love of all loves,.. Rest in the Lord of Life and Death.. rest in the Lady of Life.. and Death,.. Til the Season..~::the rites recited, her doeskin armory as with the cotton outfit that fitt her battered and scarred body hindered her not until she and her people defeated their enemy sending them straight to their gods

Nahhain

At It times when war was waged for the pure lust of it all, and tribes fought amongst themsleves endlessly, total chaos seemed to reign surpreme over the battle-scarred lands. In times when druids held the ancient knowledge being bards, teachers, and healers spreading the word and will of their many gods, pagan gods. In the a neverending circle cast out of the holy stones errected for such purposes did they receive their vision. A woman with ash color hair shall emerge into life, eyes the color of smoke shall inherit a battle sense that shall safe her clan once and for all. Nahhain the goddess of war that hovered over battlefields inspiring battle madness in warriors, came forth to those druids gifting them with the sight of parents whom will bare her namesake upon the Earth.     The druids instantly recognized the parents of a future warrioress, one that will far surpass any that they have ever known. It was cold and dreary once the druids approached the house of the farmer and his wife.They welcomed them Fioda and Bran, why should they not for these were holy people. Fioda made them welcome the best her great bulk would allow serving the druids food and drink awaiting the business at hand.     She was not made to wait long, one druid stood up wearing the colors of his rank as he spoke. He spoke of the great war goddess and the vision she had granted the three druids here. How she had chosen a child to carry on her namesake, to protect her clanspeople till the end of her days. Both Bran and Fioda was shocked to find out the goddess chosen their daughter but pleased. Why should they not, their child was hand picked by a goddess.     As what was predicted, when war was waged once more was Nahhain finally born. The girl had a thatch of ash blond locks with steel gray eyes to compliment her light bronze skin. The girl grew, as with her interest in fighting. Even a toddler, Nahhain could inspire others to pick up arms to fight for some insane reason. It was evident she was the one the druids spoke of. Fighting fascinated her, intranced her to beg an old grizzlied warrior named Cormac to teach her the ways of the warriors, the way to kill and maim her enemies of her clan.      Cormac was as old as Nahhain's father was, but still the mere slip of a girl begged him to teach her was more than he could ignore. She was young, vital and made his withered soul light again. She may of been ten years old, but the fire of battle raged within her eyes and body attracting him more. Along with teaching her the ways of the warriors, he made her his wife as well. Nahhain was pleased that this man took her as wife, he was the best around.      When she turned twelve Cormac deemed her fit to join him in the battlefield. She at that time left her hair long and flowing with three small braids around her face. Indeed she was a sight. She fought and fought hard, defeating all and many who stepped within her path. By the frenzy of her fighting fueled on her husband and countrymen and women. The day was theirs as they won they battle.      During the four years of their marriage, Nahhain was unable to give her old husband a child. He was not put out about this thinking that he'd have all the time in the world to beget a child from his young wife. Nahhain herself thought nothing of it. Neither of them knew that in the next battle to come Cormac shall be ripped away from her by death's eternal hands.      At his funeral prye she would allow no one else near, she wished to be alone with her husband one last time. Setting aflame his body, she sang for his soul and that he was in her life. The song was haunting filled with her grief has she reached for a blade. She began to hack away at the long wealth of her ash blonde hair, tossing it in the fire. "Take a piece of meh, meh lova." She kept the three braids long and flowing, longer than the rest of her hair. Next her final tribute she dyed on a bright dark red representing blood, the next a bright brillant green while the other was a very dark blue. She vowed here and now that no one shall share her bed until one can best her in a far battle, for she was that good.      A year had come and gone, still no one could best Nahhain. Many had given up on trying. And never did she allow her locks to grow back to it's former glory. Then the strange men came, they seemed different yet oddly familiar to her. They claimed they heard her challenge from all around to try. It was odd, they showed up on a holy day to the gods. Many began to whisper that the god of war lusted after Nahhain for her battle lusts. The man won, and Nahhain did as she vowed; she spent a night with the man sharing her blanket and her body to him. This happened for two years on the same day, Nahhain never gave it much thought but the rumors        Then the last time her coupling with the strange man had bore fruit, still Nahhain would not allow this to encumber her in her fighting. She perfected her skill around her pregnancy, and the child within had a strong will as she. During the course of her pregnancy, she fought and never once did she hurt the babe, instead the babe seemed to fuel her harder, hacking and slashing away her enemies. That was the way that Scathach was born in midst of the battlefield.      It was another battle, and Nahhain was in the final stages of her pregnancy. Fighting one burly man the pains began. No one, not even those who knew her well could tell she was in labor, but they did notice that she fought harder and meaner than ever. With clenched teeth, holding back the pain at bay she pushed on till all of her enemies where extinguished. Only then did she allow herself to drop to her knees to birth her daughter into the world. This amazed her clansmen, she fought and still had the strength to birth a child. With the blood of one of her fallen comrades, weakly she streaked it over her babe's brow baptizing it in blood, sensing the fighting spirit early in her child.      Nahhain taught her daughter well, taught her the tricks of the trade. Scáthach proved useful and efficient in battle. By the time she was walking she was learning weaponary, crude at best. Many times the girl was bested, and many times did Scáthach shared that man's bed for a night. But as the years went by her skill improved until the day she could follow her mother in battle.      Now mother and daughter fight side by side, viciously hacking and slashing their way through the throngs of the enemy. Mortal Index