Pay The Piper Call The Tune

Volume 2: The Dance Of The Damned: Chapter 1

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLu2WhgrMp_R3u5FaxiotiZOO00NxZZE8e&si=Gokkxq0kZEW-BMA4

A you tube play list for

Pay the Piper Call the Tune

A minor Prologue :

The Fomorians ran, they knew that they were close. Fresh, still wet tracks from the river ford led straight along the beaten path. They crested the line of low hills that ranged along the river bottom, catching sight of their quarry. He stood atop the low slung ridge amongst the purple heather.

Waiting.

Llew was,

Llew.

Lightning, thunder, rage , a storm awaiting release. A malignant magnificence displayed. His armor glittered, a bright golden bronze scaled tunic, that fell to his knees. A broad belt, at his waist. Bronzed grieves, raven crested goggled helm. Long, oblong shield with silver boss.

His sun blazed hair seemed to float on the breeze where it flowed free of the helm. A radiantly terrifying smile on his face, gazing calmly at the faces of his foes. They were confused. Confused and stupid.

Too stupid to begin grasping that Llew stood before them alone, smiling, calm. Looking actually pleased ; that Was not anything they were prepared for. Foolishly they put it down to a mad bravado.

Llew carried on a conversation, though there was no other being present besides him. The Fomorians, remembered rumors. Stupidly the fools assumed the rumors to be true, rumors that Llew, was a madman. This of course was not true. Well, not yet at least. The Fomor in their rush for glory and hate, had forgotten the Spear, The Gae Bolga, and the sword Fragarach.

“Now? Now! Feed now!” The spear cried. Llew smiled, “ Soon mo Croi , soon” Llew hefted the Spear, balancing it for the throw. A wail arose from the sword sheathed at his side. The spear howled in joy.

In the excitement of stumbling onto the lone Aos Sidhe, the Fomor forgot another crucial piece of information. Where ever Llew was, his wives were as well. The Morrigna were never far from his side. Llew was never alone.

Had they but looked , the Fomorii would have noticed the murder of crows circling about. The ravens that hovered watching. And they would have remembered the Morrigna.

The Fomor patrol, heard the three way discussion emanating from the tall Aos Sidhe champion. Barely registering that it was three voices, not merely the one.

Llew took a hopping step forward , casting the spear. The spear howled loudly and ignited. The air burning as it flew. As the spear Flew, Llew drew forth,a sword of lightning from the scabbard at his side. Lightning that laughed and wailed.

A few of the Fomor lost grip of bladder and bowels releasing foulness. Most, froze in place. All of them suddenly terrified. Loud croaks and caws surrounding them, hellish laughter chorused stripping their minds of reason.

All Thirty soldiers hesitated, bewildered, frozen, frightened. Where, heartbeats before they had stood bravely. Brazenly mocking Llew.

The Spear struck. Neatly piercing shield and bronze cuirass, to pass thru unhindered. A mist of bloody effluvium baptized the spears flight. The next soldier in the neatly ordered ranks was only beginning to see the bloody mist when the spear had passed through him as well. The spear flew on, piercing the third in line. This one was much taller, thicker than his companions had been.

The only differences made to the spear, were that the belly was pierced rather than the chest. Rather than foamy mist, and bone fragments, this time the flame tongue blade and wings of the spear dragged organs, with lengths of intestine out of the back side of the soldiers cuirass. The bloody trophies were shed as the spear howled onward on flight.

Laughing, Llew smashed into the confused formation. The Spear had passed through the middle of the now muddled ranks. Llews charge drove a shocking wedge into the formation. Lightning flashed, crimson sprayed and splashed.

Screaming, laughing, singing, the demon queens struck. The Morrigna joined battle. Rising from the heather, Identical triplets, fire haired with crystalline emerald flamed eyes. One whirled, catching and redirecting the spear back into the Fomor ranks from behind. She followed it, wielding her own flame tongued belly spear. From either side, the other two struck, dancing with gleaming swords and painted shields. This time, four fell to the spear in it's howling flight. Llew emerged on the rear of the formation. Three corpses in his wake. The two demon queens, had exchanged positions, now on opposite sides. Macha and Nemain had left six corpses in their wake. Badb, had switched starting points with Llew, four corpse to her tally. Twenty Fomor corpses lay on the ground.

The remaining Ten, broke running in as many directions. The Four Aos Sidhe watched, bemused. It had not been a battle. The Fomor had not even been capable of a defensive action in response to the Aos Sidhe action.

From first advancing foot step by Llew till the last corpse fell, less than twenty heartbeats had occurred. Reflecting, one slain per heart beat. Llew reckoned they had taken their time with the casual slaughter.

The quartet, cleaned gore from their weapons. Llew murmured to the sword and spear. They objected to being cleaned. Viewing the gore as crowning glories. The Morrigna, felt the thirst upon them. Such exertions bred thirst rapidly.

The foul battle dew from the Fomorians, could not feed the thirst. The life fluids of Fomorii, would only bring a quick, heaving sickness to Aos Sidhe. There was a human rath relatively near. Thirst would be quenched there. The wine of life would flow sweetly soon enough.

Toe to toe, the Fomor could not match Aos Sidhe fury. Aos Sidhe being too fast, too strong, too focused. The Fomor were incapable of matching the Aos Sidhe. That, had not always been the case.

Long ago, The Fomorians had been many. Great machines, implements of war and devastation had been theirs. The Fomorians had been winning the war. The heavens had burned, planets died. Stars had fallen at their command.

However, hubris exacts costs. Arrogance and pride bring an inevitable weakness. Fear reigns driving desperate decisions. Altogether, an equation built of variables, variables of defeat.

One must be able to pay the Piper when one calls the tune; Else, someone else will foot the bill and call a tune you didn't want to hear.

And so the bard plays,

The Dance of the Damned.

CHAPTER ONE

The Iron shod chariot wheels jounced along the Causeway. Rumbling and rattling along, racing along the corduroy roadway.

The Sea driven winds, raced, dancing amongst the heather, skittering over the peat moors.

Llew relished the sharp tang, the taste, on the seas winds, like fresh blood and rare meat.

The thrill of being momentarily out of control each time the jouncing, turned to full bounces and the Chariot would become airborne.

Only to be snatched back onto the Causeway by the weighted efforts of the Black and The Gray Mares that drew it all along at breakneck speed.

Crows cackled and called from the distance. Gulls flew hither and thither searching for morsels to feast upon.

The world was near perfectly balanced.

Llew relished the peace,

Even tho a part of him knew beyond a doubt,

That peace is the anomaly, order, and joy, are temporary illusions at best.

Even so,

there is no reason not to enjoy the fullness of life’s simple joys. Pure, untainted, unrestrained.

There will always be people that come along and disrupt the flow.

Unfortunately , people had to happen.

No, not the cattle simulacrums, the Aos Sidhe had created and bred to feast upon.

People, The Fair folk. The Aos Sidhe.

Seriously, Who cares what dinner or breakfast thinks?

Llews mind flew back and forth, three perspectives seeking dominance.

Their only agreement between them

Thirst, hunger, longing.

One over arching question blazed brightly within, igniting fear, fanning the flames into near panic and madness.

Just exactly what had the Morrigna wrought this time?

Last go round had taken two thousand years to settle.

What now?

†****************************†

Nemain paced.

Badbh giggled,

Macha scowled.

The Morrigna considered the child.

Clear evidence.

The mark of Llew shone about and upon the bright beautiful baby boy.

A vengeful fire raged behind the six emerald flames, gazing down at the hated proof of betrayal...

The mother, cowered, terrified, weeping, gasping for air, trying to beg and plead. Pathetic and annoying really.

How could he have betrayed her with...

This mewling snot dripping mess before her? This display made it all the more insulting and humiliating.

The King, sat frozen, watching silent, helpless to be anything other than witness to the divine storm breaking in his hall.

The Morrigna moved , spiraling about the child swaddled in wolf skins, a child smiling and waving clenched fists, happy, uncaring , welcoming the surrounding storm. The pretty flames that twirled, flowed, swirled around him.

Morgan made Eye contact with the babe.

Gazes locked the child farted loudly and laughed. The damn burst.

All of the anger, fear, pain burst into laughter.

The sun bright smile of innocence and mischief pierced like Spear thrusts through the Morrignas hearts.

Burning, writhing with rage and humiliation,

Pierced by beauty and pure innocence.

The Morrigna screamed in frustration, storming out of the hall. "Llew" echoed forth, their battle cry. .

Connor, the king, sighed, relieved that the Goddess had not slaughtered his nephew, hurriedly signaled members of his Fianna,

" Take my sister, and my nephew and heir, hide them guard them! "

Fergus nodded assent, swept up the cooing child. Conan, gently lifted the still trembling Dechtire from the floor. The two captains of the Fianna called to their men.

†*****************************†

Sualtim would shelter mother and child.

He could no no other in honor even tho it had been his wedding, to Dechtire that Llew had disrupted with violence, kidnapping, and rape...

Dechtire had definitely not gone willingly.

The babe, bore no responsibility for the evil of the Gods.

Sualtim, of the Fianna, Kings champion, warrior of the Ulliad, had only one obvious choice of action when Conan and Fergus showed up out of the mist and darkness.

There was no hesitation. Sualtim did not bother to even consider his own feelings on the matter. Honor and duty were clear. "Death, is lighter than a feather. Duty, is heavier than a mountain: my soul unto the mountain."

it is a way of life,

a purpose in existence, not merely some slogan.

The way of the Warrior.

Time passed,

the child grew, learned, became...

A legend. A living myth, manifest.

Always from a secure distance, Llew watched, in pleasure, and no small pride as his son grew, became,

dashing hither and yon, leading the Morrigna on a merry chase,

distracting them, directing their fury away from the child,

llew maneuvered, plotted, planned,

sowed chaos, feeding the furies of the Morrigna,

Distracting, redirecting,

constantly moving forward,

until that day,

the moment the Morrigna remembered that there was, a child.

The child, a living testimony of betrayal, of shame.

furious,

they began a search, focusing, with a singular intent, find that child.

Llew grew desperate in his schemes to distract her, to no avail.

the Morrigna ignored his machinations and distractions

†******************************†

The chariot had no traction upon the Corduroy entrance road.

Slamming and bouncing out of control, ricocheting off of the Kerb stones and walls at the entrance,

Llew rather noisily if ungraciously slid through the open gateway.

The Morrigna, the storm, had long departed. Searching for, Llew.

The mother and babe were gone, hidden away.

Connor posted guards and refused to come out of his round house. Ignoring Llews threats and supplications.

Eventually, Llew tired of his own antics and departed. Rattling away in his chariot. Plotting, planning, conceiving of how he would deal with this mess.

At least the Morrigna had not done more than terrify the mother and glare at the child. She had not harmed them happily. However...

The Morrigna now stalked Llew,

Enraged, betrayed, angry, jealous, broken hearted storms seeking his light.

How had she found out?

Llew had been on his way to secure and hide away the child himself.

The Morrigna need never have known.

Well, at least for a few centuries more at least.

Now,

Rage and fury and heart break are racing across the land.

Survival may well not be guaranteed.

Death and destruction are the only certainty.

Chaos, agony, rage, fury,

Vengeance, all the hell spawned nightmares now stalked Llew, complicating things considerably.

First, secure the babe while avoiding the Morrigna. Then, hide the child well away.

No telling what any of the Morrigna may decide to do.

Llew had his hands full worrying about surviving The Morrignas calamity. Theres no way he could function, guard ,plot, plan and take care of or worry about a newborne simultaneously. A God he may style himself,

omnipotence was something he lacked however.

Better if the Morrigna sought Llew, not the child.

The Race was on.

Llew laughed at the madness of it all.

This was turning out to be more fun than Llew could have ever imagined.

Everything on the line everything at risk, destruction imminent,

with only Llews wit, skill, and luck to see him through the quest.

This actually made life interesting.

Llew wondered why he had waited so long, what he had worried about? This had set his heart racing, his mind burning.

This was certainly much more fun than Llew had anticipated.

A Lover of the Darkness:

To the Madness wed....

One must pay the piper before one may call the tune....

The thing is,

The tune,

the tune, the song

decides the dance,

the dance,

Defines the tune.

twisting and turning, laughing and burning,

It is all just a dance of the damned.

the chase was on, the game afoot,

Llew set about organizing ,planning, multitudes of ways to distract and engage her.

keep the Morrigna focused upon him,

and she would not focus upon the child.

the child was everything.

in this,

Llew discovered,

his second failures.

he was clearly no ones savior.

Crows called, circling over head in murderous joy. Inspiring Llew to drive the horses faster, harder.

Winding up, around the Hillock, hoping against hope that he had not been too late. Which of course, he was.

Cresting the Small round hill Llew could see the murder cawing and circling overhead.

Setanta was still standing, leaning back against the standing stone as if resting, Maybe it was not too late then!

Llew called out to him. Only to be met with an inhuman silence and a scrabbling, scuffling sound. As if crowning the standing stone a bloodied, bedraggled Babh, perched atop the stone.

The unholy trinity had captured and bound the champion to the stone.

Approaching slowly, Llew looked closely, as what he had first assumed had been ropes, proved out to be the organs, the intestines of Setanta, exposed to the elements binding him upright against the stone. Nemain and Macha scampered into view, cackling like angry crows.

" Aye, Ye mae sae ee had, a lot of guts to support him. " Nemain-Morgan spit, snarling,

" Turned out to be more of a man than his father" Macha brandished her gory trophies.

Llew stood still, frozen in place momentarily, shocked by the nightmare vision before him.

Badbh cackled and contorted herself about, to kiss the still fresh corpse upon the lips.

Macha hurled the battered, severed heads of Sualtim and Dechtire to land, rolling before the snorting, huffing horses. " Seems your paramour was no more faithful than you are milord. "

Llew stood in silence. What was he going to possibly say beyond inarticulate screams of grief, fury, frustration, rage?

Llew, drawing shuddering breaths once again began approaching the standing stone and the body of his only son, Setanta, CuChullain, the Hound of Cullen, champion of the Ulliad.

There was not a spot on the body that did not proclaim witness to the violence that had claimed the life of Setanta save, for his face, now frozen, contorted in agony and fury, a screaming silent defiance of fate, death, life, eternity.

Llew felt a hole open within him, a vacuum that stole his breathe away. Knees trembling, his entire body in fact, trembling, Llew fought intense hellish battles within. Outwardly, only an occasional flicker of lightning danced in his eyes.

The Morrigna scampered, cackling, dancing, mocking Llew as they withdrew. Laughing, singing,

Celebrating their vengeance, The Morrigna twirled, whirled, cavorted and capered.

Llew made no move after them. Feeling his sons body still warm, still supple. Llew set about trying to gently disentangle Setanta from the Stone and from himself. Gently replacing organs and ropy, glistening loops of intestines back into the body.

Maybe something could be salvaged of this mess after all.

Llew would not abandon the plan, regardless of the Morrignas, provocations.

Preparing the Body, Llew placed the corpse onto the woven leather flooring of the Chariot, climbing onboard to stand over what remained of his son. Llew turned his Chariot south. It would be a long journey back to the Brugh Na Mourne.

Time needed to rearrange his composure, to begin the Back up plan.

Setanta had earned the name, the Hound of Ulster soundly. Several Strawberry haired, sapphire eyed children attested to that fact. There remained viable genetic materials to work with. Thus, all was not lost. What had changed was the schedule, and the flavor of the plan. Some of life’s spices, brought bitterness and or sour tastes to vengeance.

Sighing deeply in weariness and frustration, Llew performed the Burial rites. The plan was disrupted, delayed is all.

Patience is often the only option available.

Time,

Time to turn the burning fragments of his shattered heart, into icy coals. Time, to plan for vengeance. Time to establish, Justice. Time, to grasp every possible aspect of righteous justice, merciless vengeance and total retribution.

Time, which Llew has plenty of.

Time, patience, perseverance. Time to nurse and grow the grievances. Time to relish and revel in the sweet joys of rage and pain. Time to fully indulge the sensuality of the experience.

That is an odd thing with being, effectively immortal. Lines blur, cross, entangle. Pleasures become unspeakable agony, pain becomes release, joy, rage, all merge into a maddening miasma of,

Nothing.

Numb,

the Only things one may actually feel, to experience, becomes, the extremes.

Immortal motivations and desires are complicated. Mortals are clueless as to exactly how complicated memory, emotion, need, desire, can be, never mind how complex twisted demented and perverse the basic reality of existing becomes.

It all swirls into a madness of experience in which the only purpose, the absolute meaning becomes ,

the experience itself.

A profound sensuality becomes point purpose and reason. The experience, the feeling, becomes all. The experience is the purpose, cause, reason, and,

Meaning.

This integrates into fascinating moral and ethical dilemmas.

What is ethical, moral and righteous, for the spider, is terror, chaos, horror, for the fly.

Strange how both views can be true.

Yet:

Look around yourself.

map it out.

seize just one moment and measure it.

Next:

Question your desires, your needs, your necessary necessity.

Then integrate it all. Embrace how they all flow together..

Experience, data, intensity

how the various components exist and

Integrate.

Reality , what a joke!

Everything is based upon the complex interactions, of the edges of various quantum singularities.

Imagine:

Each sentience, is in effect and affect,

a singular point . A point singularity.

Common/shared, Reality,

is in fact, the Various interactions of each point singularity, at the respective boundaries of each individual event horizon.

Lmao...

Soo.....

We, each and every, sentient existence is in fact a point singularity ( A Black Hole) the fabric, the quantum foam of reality, is the friction, of each event horizon interacting with the surrounding event horizons.

There are no paradoxes.

reality itself,

is the unlikely event.

perception also, is another unlikely event.

All of existence is:

An unlikely event.

Now,

mix wave mechanics, probability,

potential energy,

Released ( directed/discharged) energy,

and VOILA!

The lovely madness of reality.

Mix possibilities,

Probabilities,

perception,

And...

Social pressures, sine waves and algorithms set and focused culturally to reinforce concepts of identity and perception.

It really is fourth dimensional chess, while the opponent,

is playing checkers.

Thus,

one may WIN the chess match

while losing the unplayed game of checkers just as

one may win a checkers match while losing the chess game.

The trick, apparently is keeping track of perspective. Which indicates needs and the perception of needs, the expression of needs, and

actions to meet those needs.

Perspective?

Perception?

The perception of perspective is the perspective of perception.

Just another of the many mysteries of existence.

The old chicken or the egg question,

which demands an answer while ignoring the obvious.

what came first?

GOD of course.

That however is the answer in the question everyone is terrified to ask.

At what point does justice become vengeance?

How can a righteous desire breed such evil effects?

Llew would spend centuries, eons, contemplating this.

Still, doggedly persistent in his plan.

regardless of how she provokes him,

No matter how enraged, wounded or heart broken she renders him,

Llew vowed, he would do her right.

Not in vengeance,

nor a twisted sense of justice.

Simply because,

Llew loved her,

Llew had failed her,

the triune nightmare would not exist,

could not exist, had Llew not failed in his most crucial duty, his principle duty back when he had still been Nuada, Nodens, Champion, of Cathbadua.

He,

Llew had failed to either protect her, or, rescue her.

Nodens had been the one to discover them, rampaging through the wastes,

Nuada had been the one to take up the burden of the godslayers, to become Llew, the Lugus.

Llew had been the one,

to destroy Balor/Baal,

to bring genocidal fury in retribution.

That was all after the fact though, too late to save her, too late to save or protect any of them.

Driven by a guilt and shame, haunted by an agony of failure,

Llew continued his plan.

he would see her whole again.

He would rescue her from the hells and madness of her fury.

Llew would, see her heart brought to life again.

Even if he had to betray all of existence to make it so.

This time, he would not fail her.

DONNs WYKKYD AMBITIONS

LYCAN SUBSCRIBE