The Godslayers awake.
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Morgan opened the wooden box revealing of all things a sword. The sword revealed is magnificent. Twisting writhing serpents of pattern welded steel. An ancient blade of heroes. A power long concealed. The sword, an intoxicant, a dream, a nightmare. The worked pattern welded steel blade of writhing Silver flames caught and crystalized. Magic and poetry and prophecy and desire and darkest need. All manifest in a work of deadly art. Battles dream, creations predator, the devourer of souls . Herald of darkness, the lover of chaos. “Amhrán Geal Chatha. Itheoir Anamacha”
(Bright song of battle devourer of souls)
Michael reached out lifting the sword from the case. She fit him perfectly, a living flame of rage and grace. Morgans gasp and startled attempt to stop him was of no use.
A cacophony of thoughts, chaotic emotions, and images flooded Michaels perception. A wailing moan cut through it all. That it was from the sword was self evident. From the back of his mind Michael could hear his rational self telling him to let it go. Put the sword down before it consumed you, He did not. Rational reasoning became a thing lost to the past. The pure passion of existence, the pleasures of experience have become the purpose of life itself. The last traces of humanity burned away, now forgotten.
Michael could feel the thoughts of the blade whispering through his mind, clawing its way through his essence. The sword is alive, sentient, a willful creature in it’s own right he realized as a powerful desire raged, flowing over and through him. The lust for blood and souls, his new desire, a new purpose. The swords laughter a demanding song burning within his mind. Power, a sense of invincibility filled him.
Michael laughed exhilarated, enraptured. The sense was an intoxication, a hunger, a thirst, a lust, a desire. All of that and more. Every sense was stimulated. Every core desire of his being magnified. God slayer, soul drinker, death incarnate, power manifest in desire.
Morgan was too late in stopping Michael from touching the sword. She watched him lift it from the wooden case. Expecting Michael to be destroyed, consumed by the sword-thing. Morgan was dismayed by the look of rapture that radiated from Michaels face. When he began laughing cold chills ran up her spine. There were two voices in the laughter. Two voices twisted like mating serpents of sound into a singular harmony. The song of battle, god slayer, devourer of souls unleashed to work it’s will upon reality. Now was the time to pay the piper and call the tune.
Morgan felt something she had never experienced before. Rage, fury, lust, curiosity, desire, love, all of those emotions Morgan was intimate with. This new thing was disturbing. She shivered, the icy cold sensation began in her stomach and spread throughout her body. She wanted to flee, all of her being demanded that she run, hide, get away from this thing before her. Morgan had discovered a living fear for the first time. Michael was flooding the room with powerful pheromones. Morgan reacted to the new things. She was turned on. Excited, curious.
Badb watched with her twisted smile. Morgans state plainly showing, her nipples hard and aching. This! This was better than Badb could have hoped for. Badb danced a quick skipping jig moving closer to Morgan. Macha and Morgan were focused on Michael. They paid Badb no mind. Badb reached out picking up the metal case. When she opened it and verified what it was she began laughing. Oh better and better! The lightning spear. Her old friend, awake and hungry. A Flame tongued blade as long as her forearm. Pattern welded like the sword. The spear head looked as if it were moving, a twisting, flowing silver flame. The butt cap a spike of the same worked meteoric steel lay shinning beside the spear head. These were the weapons that killed Balor and slaughtered the Fomor. The weapons that the champion Lugh had carried so long ago. Forged from a falling star, beautiful and terror sculpted. Badb carefully placed the box, contents untouched, back onto the coffee table. Long had she sought them. Long and long again they had remained hidden away. Sixteen hundred years to be exact. Sixteen hundred years since she had taken the sword and spear back.
Macha, had loved him. She had been Arthur’s Gwynnhyffyr. The white phantom. The maker of kings and betrayer of heroes.
Macha and Nemain had stolen the Sword in order to give it to Arthur. Badb had the spear hidden away. She happily brought it forth to gave it to him. The battlefields were a glorious feast! Saxon and Angle , Jutes, frisians, rebellious Celts, back stabbing Romans, all had fed the caged demons within the sword and spear. The final battle, the big betrayal had been a joyous thing. In Gaul, just outside of Avallon, Arthur Pen-Draeg, the Riothamus, King of the Britons, with eleven thousand men faced Euric and his army of a hundred thousand. Badb had taken the spear from Arthur the night before the battle and gifted it to the Visigoth king. The slaughter was magnificent. Arthur was slaughters glorious whore on the field. His warriors killed near a quarter of Eurics army between the battle and then the harrowing withdrawal to Avallon. Euric attempted a siege, then hearing tidings, false though they were, of Ricemer and legions coming. Euric quit the field to flee into Hispania. Badb removed the spear from his keeping. She could not abide cowardice. She gifted the spear again and again until it had disappeared. It became known as the spear of destiny. Who held it, held victory. Macha, stayed with Arthur until his ignoble betrayal. She did not know what happened for certain at Camlan. She only knew that Bedwyr had taken the sword at Arthur’s death. Supposedly he had cast it into the lake that fed the Aeronowy river in the west of Cymry. Though she searched she had not found it. Bedwyr was killed before she could interrogate him. Aberaeron became a regular haunt in her chronic quests for the sword.
Michael stood , his gaze upon the beautiful death god in his hands. The sword of kings, the god slayer crooning to him. Macha gingerly moved away from him, jostling Morgan in passing. Badb cleared her throat and stopping Macha, pulling her down to sit beside her. Morgan was transfixed. Her eyes could not leave the sword in Michaels hands. Macha and Badb called morgans name, ” Nemain! Morgan!”
Morgan struggled to look away from Michael. When both Badb and Macha reached out grasping her hands She looked back at them. The three stared into each others eyes in silence. Macha and Badb pushed and pulled on Morgans hands, guiding them to the silver case on the table. Morgan, realizing what they were trying to do looked down at the Spear head, ” No! Na Den!” She struggled against them. The trio are evenly matched. Not one stronger than the other. Two against one however easily over powered Morgans resistance.
Morgan felt a tingle in the air as her hands were forced closer. The closer her hands got, the stronger the tingling, until she was finally forced to touch it. All three gasped aloud as an electric shock flowed through them. The spear awakened, began to sing. Words of lightning burned through the Morrigna’s mind. The Spear read the three of them, rejecting two. Macha and Badb recoiled releasing Morgan. The spear began crooning to Morgan. The electric tingle fading into a comforting warmth.
Images Echoed in Morgans mind. Images and memories, a sense of focused determination swept over and through her. Morgan felt oddly complete. As if a missing piece of her had been restored. Pleasure swept over her in waves. Morgan began laughing like Michael had. Just as with Michael, two voices were laughing. Macha and Badb quickly rolled over the back of the sofa putting as much distance between them all as possible. Morgan sat down calling to Michael.
Michael heard Morgan call to him as if from down a long echoing tunnel. When he tore his eyes off of the sword looking at Morgan, it took a moment for his eyes to focus. She was glowing. The energy around her , bright green and blue flames, covered her head to toe.
Michael watched the expression on her face flit between rapture and annoyance. Morgan was struggling, fighting her own contest of wills against the silver bright being in her hands. Like the sword, the spear head was sentient. It sought control of her. Morgan fought with all of her being to remain in control, denying the demands of the spear. Hunger, desire, lightning, fire washed through her. Morgan slowly gained control, or rather the spear had submitted for it’s own reasons. Faint images played in her mind at first. whispers, cries, penetrated her awareness. The multitude of voices crying out, begging for release, pleading for the peace of death. The spear enjoyed their torment. Greedily feeding off of the fear and pain and chaos that radiated from the trapped multitude.
Like the sword, the spear drank souls and the essence of those it killed. The souls of its victims trapped in hellish torment. That was the why of the waves of pleasure and laughter. The endless torment was exquisite. Every flavor of fear, terror, despair, rage forever the demons to feast upon and enjoy. A source of pleasures for the wielder as well.
The soul devouring song of battle, and the Lightning spear are demons. Little gods in an elegant lethal beauty.
Artificial intelligences imbued within the atomic structure of their host weapons. A quantum computer composed of electron spin, crystaline matrices, clouds of probabilities. The demons absorbed the essence of whomever they touched. Creating a quantum copy of their victims essence as the victim died. Some of the last surviving technology of the ancients, the Aos Sidhe. Any sentience is fodder for the devourers.
Macha and Badb could feel the subtle pull across the distance of the main room as the demonic weapons reached for their essence. ” Put them back into their cases!” Macha spoke out, her voice sounding shrill and forced. ” Put them down” Badb demanded. Both Michael and Morgan refused. They were not going to allow the weapons out of their touch. Neither Badb or Macha could challenge them both. One, possibly if Michael or Morgan were alone. Maybe, it would be a chancy thing though. Badb started backing towards the stairs, should Morgan and or Michael lose control. Badb wanted as much head start as possible. ” What the fuck have we done? Fuck! Fuck! Ahhh damnitt Fuck!” Macha chanted as littany. Hoping that Michael and Morgan would focus on Badb so that she could move undetected. The only problem being, she had no idea where to go. Morgan watched her sisters curiously. Morgan could not understand their reaction. Her own fear only moments past already forgotten. Michael was talking softly to the sword. ” No. You cannot have them. ” Reluctantly Morgan placed the spear head on the table. It took an effort of will to let go of it. Michael was shaking his head no, having a seemingly one sided argument with the sword. This continued for the longest two minutes Macha had ever known. When Michael finally placed the sword back into it’s box, Macha moved. Slamming the box lid shut as she passed it, pushing Michael away from the table and the sword. Badb moved as fast as she was able, grabbing morgan from behind dragging her over the back of the sofa. Then Macha and Badb took positions between the weapons and Morgan and Michael. Both of whom sat still on the floor where they had been dropped. The flames that had been dancing around them faded away leaving only faint after images behind. A nervous few minutes passed with Macha and Badb standing guard over the weapons. Michael and Morgan slowly regained their normal senses. ” No wonder those had been hidden away. ” Morgan declared. Michael sat looking down at his hands. He expected to see blisters and extensive burns. He couldn’t process why his hands were not a mass of burns.“What the hell is that thing in there?” Michael demanded.
Macha bent and carefully used an empty whiskey bottle to push the spear off of the table back into it’s case. She was extremely cautious about touching it. Even in the case once again Macha could feel it. Both weapons resonating a Malevolent hunger demanding to feed.
“Yeah, no. Not here, not the now. ” Macha adressed the closed cases. A sense of protest and hunger radiated from the weapons. ” It is hungry. The spear demands sacrifice.” Morgan informed her sisters. ” She needs to devour!” Michael exclaimed gesturing towards the wooden case.
" Not here, not the now” Macha repeated. Morgan and Michael scrambled to their feet. The thirst had been growing since they had first touched the weapons. Badb picked up Morgans shoulder bag from the floor next to the sofa, tossing it to Morgan. ” Knoxville and Chatanooga are about the same distance.” She stated flatly. Macha nodded assent. “You both should go. Feed. Clear heads so we can figure this out. ” Morgan moved towards the door, Michael following. Both reluctant. They did not want to leave the weapons. The weapons crooned, moaning out loud. Badb stepped over to Morgan and pushed her towards the front door. Macha moved, manuevering Michael towards the door. The tactics seemed to work at first. Then the two dug in their heels resisting. The moment Badb felt solid resistance from Morgan she stopped, backing away from her. Michael stopped, standing quietly. Macha felt as if she were trying to push a stone wall. Neither Morgan nor Michael moved or behaved aggressively. ” We cannot leave them behind” Morgan informed her sisters. “They must be fed” Michael explained. “They sing to us. They are in our minds.” Morgan explained. Macha did not want to allow them to touch the weapons. Neither did Badb. Michael began edging back towards the table. Morgan did as well. A duo of wailing erupted from the cases. Understanding dawned upon Macha. Badb had already retreated partway up the stairs. Better and better! Macha joined her. ” Ellie, safe room!” Macha called out. A moment later the sound of a metalic door was heard from the kitchen. Michael reached the table first. As he picked up the wooden case, he tossed the silver case to Morgan. Both turned to the door and left without ceremony. Moments after the door closed Macha looked to Badb, ” What have we done? How powerful are those? ” Badb was feeling as if just maybe this had been a really bad idea for all that it had been her idea to begin with. ” Nothing in the lore said anything about” Badb gestured towards the door ” all of that!” The spear never talked to me, it only moaned when hungry.”
" Dare we allow them to keep them?” Macha asked Badb. She snorted, ” As if we could take them back now!” she replied. The sisters looked at each other in silence. The unsettling realization that there was no turning back sinking in. There would be no calling this back. The madness of fate, or is it the fate of madness? Either way, the devil was ready to dance and they had called the tune.