Mórrígan Brisdeah's Story

Modern Earth, the age of science has replaced the age of Gods and Magic. They all have disproven everything about them. People have gone to the so called home of the Greek Gods and found… nothing… No grand palaces or anything else. The Gods places of worship have all but crumbled away. Some have been stolen from and some broken into and vandalized.

The mortals have forgotten about them and explained away everything about them.

But they have not thought of one simple possibility…Maybe the Gods have moved… or have their own dimension. The Gods have never met the other gods of a different culture, aside from the Roman and Greek, but that is because they are one and the same…Each realm feels like one would expect from each culture.

Asgard is surrounded by an impregnable wall and is one of the Nine worlds, inhabited by the Aesir, the race of Warrior Gods. It is located at the highest point of their universe and has the Rainbow Bridge connecting their world to Earth. They also have Valhalla the place were slain warriors wait for the final battle, Ragnarok. The realm of their Elves Alfheim and Svartalfheim is also there as well as Vanaheim the home of Vanir, it is a glorious if a bit cold. Also there is the realm of frost giants they are constantly battling. As well as Helheim, their underworld which Hel, Lokis’ daughter resides and is protected by Garm, Hel's enormous dog-guard, lives in the cave Gnipahellir. He is an eight-foot-tall black hound with glowing eyes. It is important not to underestimate Garm. While he may act like a big dog - vicious and dangerous or friendly depending on who you are - it's an act. There is as much intelligence in Garm as in any other of Helheim's guards. He is a Jotun who is always in dog-form, but he is no dumb beast. Garm seems to be on a general patrol around the borders of Helheim, meaning that he could be anywhere at any point.

Mount Olympus is the abode of the chief god Zeus. Also, the foremost gods of the Greek pantheon have their palaces at the summit. It is here that the gods assemble to consume nectar and ambrosia, the substances which reinforces their immortality. The top of the Olympus, which is covered in snow and hidden in the clouds, reaches all the way into the aether. It is the highest mountain of Greece and lies on the border of Macedonia and Thessaly, yet though mortals have been to the top they have never seen the realm. And why would they? The Gods have hidden it from their mortal eyes. Also of course is the Domain of Hades, which is surrounded nine times by the River Styx, where Hades resides.

The Egyptian Gods abandoned walking the Earth and made their own realm one that mimics Ancient Egypt, yet more elegantly and seems to never decay, eating delicacies that most have not seen in years, yet longing to walk the mortal plane again.

The Celtics Gods mimicked the Orbis Alius, the Otherworld that their old believers crafted from them and hid from sight, some still dare to walk the mortal plane in disguise as animals, though only near the holidays that still surround them, those that the Christians have not overthrown at least.

Each God in each realm have seen the flow of time on Earth and seen it change, but never seeing the other realms of the other gods.

Until now.

Ten Gods, including a few Goddesses, have been cast out of their realm by someone, though they do not know who. Some of the Gods and Goddesses are the righteous; some are the outcasts among the gods… They each have their weapons on them and have been assigned lodges at a college. They do not know how they have come to Earth or who these others are, though a few they recognize from their own realm. For the first time in history The Asgardians will meet the Olympians, the Hindu Gods will meet the Egpytian Gods and the Alaskan Gods as well as the Azetec.

Thrown into this mix are four mortals, two men and two women, who are going to the school as well. They know not who these ones are or the powers they possess, but they soon will…

The Gods have a common goal, though some are more reluctant about it than others, get back to their own realm, but to do that they need help… from the mortals. But will the mortals help? Or will they try to kill the gods, for on Earth there may be a weapon that can kill them. Though only Mortals may wield it.

Mórrígan felt nothing more than the weight of a club beneath her hands. She swung it right and left, a heaving mass that crunched as it smacked into her enemies - or her friend's - heads. Each hit altered the noise, and gave a new cry of death to the sound of screaming men.

The night was cold, and black. Each gust of air was shattered with screams, and with each breath she sucked in, Mórrígan could feel another death. It was warming, and in her icy dreamland she felt as warm as if she was sitting beneath the sun. But what would be the fun in that? Why would she sit beneath the sun, warm her hands in her long black hair, when she could fight beneath the moon?

A man streaked towards her with a yell in his throat and a sword overhead. Mórrígan swung her club in a circle - aiming for as much momentum as she could push for - and smiled as it struck its mark in his gut. His weapon fell to the ground as he clutched his gut, and she turned away from the mess, swinging her club in a circle.

"Here, in the night, is where the I reign! I call the shadows, I dance with the winds, I rule with the night!" She raised her hands above her head, letting the cold air smack her in the face.

She could not imagine a better place to be. Mórrígan lowered her hands, and picked up the club again. As she looked around herself, she was pleased to see that her personal favor - whoever was fighting? She had seen this exact battle so many countless times, she could not tell herself who was fighting who - for the side she had chosen was perfect. They were winning, and as far as she was concerned, going to finish the battle.

Mórrígan tossed the club into the air. She would not be needing it, now that she was done fighting, and let it fall back to the ground - precisely from whence she had picked it up. With that, she let herself shape-shift into the form of a crow, taking to the air and flying above the battlefield.

As she did, she found herself considering her life once more. What was there to it? Here she was, the only Celtic God she had known of in the Ages since she first fought this battle, and yet she was all alone. Her mother - may she rot in whatever hell she had found - had hated her so much. And for each Age that turned when she lived with her two sisters, the only thing Mórrígan had ever wished for was a way out.

When it presented itself, she was so scared to take it. She was too young to take to the lands on her own, and there she found herself. But for what reason? Why had she not followed her two sisters to the grave - was that not the easiest choice? And now, that was all she wished for. For each death she gave, for each sword she would swing, she could never die herself.

It was her hell and her heaven, all in one blend, all the same battle.

The crow dipped closer to the battle, about to land in a tall oak tree when she saw a blast of light. A perfect storm, the right change in the wind of death. Before she could do anything - before she could blink, breathe, let alone notice the light - it consumed her.

---

When she did remember it, she was nowhere near the battle as it was raging. Mórrígan opened her eyes, and yawned. She was already bored. Where was the death? Where was the smell, the long trail of purple smoke, anything to lead her to where she was supposed to be?

Mórrígan stood up in a moment - she ached, true, but only her wings...which were not there, but for good reasons, she assumed - and looked around herself. Everything had changed. And to what purpose? Where was she? She looked into the distance. The sun was glimmering against glass sculptures, and she cocked her head to the side, squinting. "Burn my eyes, where do I stand?" She looked around herself, trying to piece together the puzzle.

A solitary oak tree stood by her. At the ground was a quarter-staff. Mórrígan raced to it's side, kicking it up with her feet and snatching it from the air. She looked at it, eyeing the wood. It had been carved to be perfect for herself - a grip precisely where she liked it, with runes snaking up the side. At some other point, I will translate this, or I'm not the Goddess of Death... However, more important matters are at hand.

She shifted into the first animal she could think of - which took a moment. The form bled through slowly, but then she was standing tall in the form of an animal. She was not sure which one; that was the question. Whatever it was, though, she let it run towards the city.

Mórrígan was surprised to see how long it took to get to the city. Why had it taken so long? It had never before been so long, but there it was, more than the few moments she had ever had to travel. As she neared the glass buildings, she looked into the reflection; there stood a black mare, mane swirling in the wind. She shifted back into her 'human' form, also taking longer than she wanted, though when she saw it in the mirror she gasped.

It was truly a human. No longer an immortal being's favorite form, but a human. Her hand tugged at her braid, pulling at it, trying to see if it was real, and the head-ache she was given told her it was real. Mórrígan screamed with frustration. This was hell! Forget an endless battle, this was what was truly hell!

She picked up her quarterstaff - she had not remembered taking it as the mare, but it had arrived with her nonetheless - and her eyes caught a look of a small gold scrap beneath the staff. "Perhaps I did not carry it at all," she murmured, picking up the paper with it.

"Mórrígan Brisdeah, your presence is required at the building in the center of town." Celtic runes? Her eyes strained to read them, but indeed it was. And that her mortal eyes could read it surprised her.

Mórrígan sighed, and decided she was to see what was happening. The path to town slowly unfolded itself. As she followed it - a small purple smoke stream? She missed the sight of it, but she could not imagine being summoned just to kill someone - she watched her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a black leather skirt, falling just to her thighs, along with a loose corset that had deep-plum colored embroidery throughout the boning. At least I'm not wearing pants.

The building she was sent to turned out to be a school. She stared at the students milling around its campus, but continued to follow the smoke line. It led her through passages that were seldom used, and for what purpose she could not imagine. But she continued walking through, to where it shot into the wall.

Mórrígan stared at it, even daring to smell it, before taking a leap of faith and slamming herself into the wall. She stumbled - having expected solid matter - and fell to her knees, before pushing herself to stand up. She was not alone, it seemed, as she stared at the man who stood before her.

"Pray tell, who do I have the pleasure of knowing?" she murmured, daring to approach. This unfamiliar standing, wherever she was, she wanted to know who this was. "I ask for a name, and the pleasure of knowing what brings you here." She slammed the quarterstaff into the ground, so that she could let go of it.

The Field of Reeds was an eternal paradise, but even gods got bored.

It had been far too long since Bast had been asked to devour the enemies of Ra and deliver their hearts at his feet, and understandably, she was getting a bit restless. It had been thousands of years since her worship had been widespread, and since the gods had retreated to their own realm. The sun here was no less strong than it had been on Earth, no less real, but in its own way, less satisfying.

Grumbling to herself as she took her barque out on the water, she didn't notice the unusual rapid making its way towards her. It rocked the boat just enough to tip her over into the water, and her yowl of surprise was cut short by the water surrounding her, enveloping her. The world swirled around her and she landed, hard, on her hands and knees.

Biting back a series of choice curses - bad heka, not a good idea even for a god - she got to her feet. Much to her surprise, she was dry, and there was a khopesh on the ground before her with a note. She studied the note, reading the hieroglyphs on the papyrus, and nodded to herself. Then she knelt down and scooped up the khopesh, and with a flick of her wrist, turned it into a charm on a necklace before pulling the necklace over her head.

Hmm. No ears. She glanced in the window and did a double-take at her appearance. She was fully in the guise of a mortal, cat head nowhere to be found. Her attire was not at all what she was used to, but it fit her well; a dress of strong turquiose and gold, balanced with white, which set off her dark skin, and gold eyeshadow and kohl around her eyes. Atop it all was a black military-styled jacket, and golden gladiator sandals were on her feet.

Okay, she was intrigued now. One did not simply summon an Iryt-Ra like a common-or-garden demon, after all; she was not to be ordered around. So she'd go follow these instructions...and then tear apart whoever had dared to think they could summon a goddess. Then she'd turn her thoughts to returning to Aaru, but in the meantime, she'd be enjoying her time in the mortal world.

Bast followed the trail she'd been set to the circular building. She went through corridors and passageways before coming to a blank wall. She sniffed at it a moment, and, smelling not stone but air, went through.

Oh, now this was interesting. Two people talking, both with a northerly look to them. Bast folded her hands in front of her. "Excuse me," she said, smiling as cheerfully as she could with murder in her eyes, "but are either of you the reason why I am here?"

Vidar felt the heat of the morning sun on his back and the sweat of his labor pouring down his face. After heaving a heavy pillar about the size of the empire state building over his head, he walked toward the shining halls of Valhalla. The already massive hall was being further renovated to fit more men and women inside. After walking to an open at the end of the hall, he laid the stone pillar onto the ground with a loud rumble. He then pushed the pillar into the opening and sealed the hall once again.

Vidar turned around to be greeted be Heimdall, watcher of the gods.
"Let me thank you again. Without you we would have never finished extending the hall. With all of the soldiers pouring in from Afghanistan, Odin figured that we might as well increase the size of Valhalla.” Heimdall said, patting Vidar’s back.
“Oh yeah. Here you go,” Heimdall pulls out a handful of leather straps, “Some straps for the Wolf-slayer.”

Vidar gives Heimdall a disapproving look.
Heimdall sighs, “I forgot you don’t like being called by kennings. *Ahem* Here’s some straps for you Vidar.” Vidar smiles and reaches out for the straps and a sudden bright light blinds him.

He strains to see and suddenly finds himself standing on asphalt in the middle of a city. It seemed to that his attire had changed. He was now looking rather mortal, with Brown work pants with black straps that go over his shoulders, a white shirt, brown gloves, and extremely thick strong brown work boots. He did keep certain attributes from his original form. He still is very tall and has his long red hair and bright, glowing, green eyes. He looks down to find a scroll next to his feet. He picks it up and it says in Old Norse, "Vidar, your presence is required at the middle of town."

Vidar walks to the middle of town to find a college and another note, "continue into the building and take your seat." He proceeds into a hall that ends with a wall. He goes to touch the wall and discovers that he can pass right through it. Inside he sees two figures standing and Loki sitting down. He raises one eyebrow and walks to a vine covered stone chair and sits down silently.

Vali sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the wild. The birds chirped, the wolves howled, the snake hissed. The only time Vali felt truly calm was on the hunt. The tension in his bow and the quiet sound of the fallen leaves crunching beneath each step. Vali stared down his bow into his target. The large Buck was grazing on grass, unaware to the Hunter, until it heard a low growl from the tall grass. The deer bolted away and a pack of wolves swarmed from the grass. Vali sighs and dashes through the wolves firing arrows at each one he passes until a trail of dead wolves lay on the forest floor. Seeing the Buck from a great distance Vali stands up straight and fires an arrow. The arrow Soars over the treetops and after some time passes hits the buck between the shoulders and it goes limp sliding slightly across the ground.

He walks up to the fallen animal taking his time. Once he is at the Buck, he gets down on his knees and pulls out a dagger. He raises the dagger above his head and cries out, "I MAKE THIS SACRIFICE TO ODIN!" and brings his knife down into the sacrifice. As soon as the dagger pierces the flesh a Bright light blinds Vali.

Vali stands up and finds himself in the middle of a park. He looks around him in confusion, wondering where he could possibly be, his surroundings darker than usual. "What in Hel's name is going on?" He spots a note tied to a tree and walks over to it, unties it, opens it up, and reads in Old Norse:

Vali,

Your presence is required at the building in the center of town immediately.

Vali looks below the writing and sees a map showing him where he is and where he needs to go.
"Alright then, looks like this is the only way to find out what is happening." Vali walks towards the center of town passing shops and diners on his way. "I must be in Midgard. It's strange to see the humans so close. They do wear some cool clothing these days." Vali looks into a shop window where a mirror is reflecting his appearance. Seeing the pair of sunglasses gives him a sudden realization, "No wonder everything looks darker." He inspects himself looking at his new outfit. He sees himself wearing a long black sleeveless trench coat with the word "hefnd" in red on the back. Under it he has on a green sleeveless turtleneck shirt and green military pants with black combat boots. On his hands he has black fingerless gloves. He has a green quiver at his waist and his bow on his back. "I'm liking this new look already, " he says with satisfaction, "It's been awhile since I've had a costume change."

He continued to the middle of the city until he walked up to the University. "What kind of joke is this? There is just no way that this could be right. It can't be." He looks down and another note is laying at his feet. He picks it up and reads it:

Vali,

Go into the building and take your seat.

"Aw great. More of this ****ing s*** again. You'd think that they would have the decency to at least sign the d*** thing so I know who I'm talking to." Vali crumples up the note and shoves it into his coat pocket. He walks into the building and looks down the hall with a dead end. "I sense something strange here." Vali walks down the hall and tries to touch the wall at the end.

His hand passes through without any effort. He walks into the room and sees the people in the room. He smiles when he sees Vidar, but then his mood sours when he sees Loki. He notices many of the other people in the room emit a powerful magic aura. "Tch. Isn't that just great. I get stuck in a room full of Volva." He looks around at the chairs and sees a chair made of heliotrope stone. He sits down in it and lays his bow across his lap. "My calm from the hunt has worn off and I'm stuck in a room with Loki, this isn't going to be fun."