Sunday, August 28, 2011

Like a bat outta hell.

We went to report what we had discovered to Hachiman. Only Hachiman tranformed himself before my eyes into a face I thought I'd never see again...into the very being of the very much alive and well Manannán mac Lir. He apologized for the earlier deception but explained it had been most necessary for him to use this elaborate ruse for reasons he could not fully go into at the moment. What he did stress is that we needed to hurry out of Mag Mell and send word to Odin and the Aesir, and we needed to do this before the Henchmen of Hades could contact Hades themselves.

The race was on. The Henchmen of Hades versus yours truly and Nate. Both of us racing to get out of Mag Mell as quickly as possible. We passed the same detachment of Fianna and I fairly screamed at them in Gaelic to stop and detain the Greeks that would be right behind us. They were a bit confused but indicated the understood my order and would comply.

When we exited Mag Mell, Derrick was already engaged in combat, the Chain of Lugh in one hand, a massive pistol in the other, firing into the air behind us at a shadowy, flying figure that Nate called a "Shinobi", which I knew was another name for ninja, but I also knew these were celestial beings and no mere mortal band of assassins. They were literally creatures of darkness, creatures of night.

Derrick landed a lucky shot and the creature dissipated into nothingness. I whipped out my smartphone and quickly dialed Gunnar's cellular number and the words fairly tumbled forth...."Oh my gods!! Manannán mac Lir is still alive, we just saw them unearth the real Loki in Mag Mell, and Hachiman seems to be missing, and Derrick just took out a feckin' Shinobi at the Cliffs of Moher."

I could hear the squeal of brakes over the phone and Laurel yelling "What the hell!!" before Gunnar yelled "call you right back!!" and the call dropped.

Mere seconds later, there was a huge flash of lightning at the Cliffs of Moher and before Nate and I stood the towering figure of Odin, the Norse All Father, and a rather sheepish looking Gunnar, having been carried along like a precocious child.
He released Gunnar, whirled round and bounded off the Cliffs of Moher, bound for Mag Mell. Gunnar quickly followed in after.

"Well, Derrick, looks like we're headed back in...", I said apologetically.

Derrick smiled weakly, then grimaced, shrugged, and turned slowly around to face the crowd of utterly shocked tourists and local Irish residents....

...while Nate and I followed on Gunnar's heels back over the cliffs and on our way back into Mag Mell.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Hachiman, Hades, Henchmen, Holy Shite!

We crossed over into Mag Mell. Nate and I agreed that the easiest way to traverse the terrain was by jumping across the landscape with mighty leaps. We would get there faster than by my flying alone.

I tried out some of my Japanese with Nate, and he humored me a bit.

"You watched a lot of Anime, didn't you?"

"Yeah; It was really cool. After about an hour, I didn't need the subtitles anymore."

"Yeah, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you're speaking like a teenage Japanese schoolgirl, dude. Way WAY too much cheeky slang. Please keep your yap shut around my Dad until you learn a bit more about Japanese culture and rules of etiquette...for both our sakes."

After an uncomfortable pause, Nate asked: "However, you're functionally illiterate in Japanese, though, right?"

Hai, I said, looking away with shame.

On the way to Hachiman's forward base, we encountered a detachment of Fianna knights, who, like Derrick, asked if we had caught sight of Cordelia anywhere...she was missing, having seemingly abandoned her post. We had to admit, we had no idea where she might be. They thanked and bid us continue our mission.

Before long we reached the forward base being used by Hachiman and guarded by the noble Tengu, who recognized Nate and waved us on through. We approached a large-ish Pagoda and to my delight I noticed the cherry blossom trees in full bloom all around this area.

Nate knocked respectfully on the door; when Hachiman opened, Nate and I both bowed deeply, our Katanas sheathed and on the ground in front of us in our grip, as we bowed forward with sincere respect.

Nate was commanded in Japanese to rise and enter. Hachiman did not address me so I remained prostrated before the great Japanese War and Fertility god. I heard the door close behind them and snuck a peak to confirm I was alone. I was. I rose from the ground and hooked my sword back on my belt, then propped my back up against the exterior wall of the Pagoda and thumbed through a paperback lesson book I'd bought on basic Japanese writing systems. I was definitely going to need to spend some quality time studying the complex orthography of this language if it was really going to be all that useful to me.

Out of curiosity, I pressed my ear against the door of the Pagoda; I definitely could hear a muffled Japanese conversation on the other side but couldn't make out any words or phrases.

About a half-hour later, Nate re-emerged and said that we had to move quickly; The henchmen of Hades were about to dig up something from their excavation pit in Mag Mell and it was vitally important that we find out what it is as soon as possible.

We reached the excavation pit and I hoisted Nate aloft, grabbing him underneath both arms and hoisting him into the air. We lowered our way into the pit slowly as I glided downward. We could make out workmen in Graeco-Roman togas and it seemed they were unearthing what looked to be a coffin.

The workmen stopped us from getting any closer, but Nate somehow managed to convince them that he was supposed to be there, acting as Hachiman's lieutenant, and he needed to see this to be able to report back. They agreed and parted ranks to let us through.

The workmen cracked open the lid and what was inside caused both our jaws to drop...


There, tied up securely with a fine golden thread that looked divinely crafted, thus bound and gagged, we beheld the figure of none other than what looked very much like the Norse god named Loki. Calling upon the powers of Enech, I gazed upon him with the power of The Brehon's Eye and sure enough, what it revealed to me confirmed everything true I knew about Loki's nature from my university study of world myths...this was the real Loki, I was sure of it, which probably meant the "Loki" we'd seen outside Wolfsheim was a faker somehow...

Friday, August 26, 2011

Return to Mag Mell

I met Nate at Shannon Airport and we continued on to the Cliffs of Moher. Nate indicated that he'd received a communication from his Divine Father at last, and that he insisted Nate come to speak face-to-face. I asked if this wasn't a bit odd, and Nate allowed that it was, but just shrugged.

"Hey, it's what the ol' man wants, so whaddya gonna do, right?"

"I guess so.", I admitted.

We didn't have time to wait for nightfall, said Nate, so I hoped Derrick could figure out a way to get us into Mag Mell without incident. I needn't have worried. He...somehow managed to lead the great mass of tourists away from the Cliffs using a bullhorn and I think talking about U2's Bono possibly paying a visit to scout the location for their next music video...

But we did manage to speak to Derek briefly beforehand, and he had some disturbing news. Cordelia was missing, and Derrick wanted to know if Nate and I had perchance seen her or heard of her during our own travels of late. I said I hadn't, and looked at Nate, who shrugged. Derrick stated that Cordelia had been acting strangely of late, and that now she had abandoned her post and seemingly disappeared. Derrick, addressing Nate, said gently "...I know she was kind of hard to get along with..."

Nate, magnanimously, said "Oh, she was alright..."

I laughed and said "It's ok Nate, you can say it. She was a b*tch."

"Well, maybe a bit of a feisty Irish redhead.", Nate suggested.

"No.", said Derrick and I simultaneously, laughing.

I looked at Derrick then I continued "...I've dated feisty Irish redheads, Nate. Cordelia was a uptight b*tch. She's a whole 'nother level of Hibernian hussy."

"Well,", interrupted Derrick, "you folks should probably get going. One divine distraction coming right up", he continued, hefting a bullhorn and walking away from us...

"That's our cue.", I said to Nate, and over the Cliffs we went, diving into Mag Mell.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Short lived Domestic Bliss in Dublin

I helped Kassandra make her way back to Dublin to retrieve her cat Astrid from my mother's home, and to pick up Nevermore as well. I learned from Aisling and Nevermore that between the two of them, they were able to keep mom calm and that they all managed to keep each others spirits up these many months.

"Well, that and the steady supply of Jameson's..." blurted Nevermore, who then covered his beak with his wing in embarrassment.

I looked over at Aisling with a look of disapproval and she looked back at me and said "What!? I didn't do it, yer Ma did. Besides it did calm his nerves. He does genuinely worry about Laurel, you know."

"Aye, he's a fine feathered friend...for an Englishman, anyway.", I said with a laugh.

Aisling, though used to the time dilation of various Terra Incognitae, still missed me deeply and was very demanding of me...emotionally, temporally and physically. In between spending quality time with her, I also managed to put my divine abilities to the test vis a vis languages...I had Aisling watch Italian Art films that were sappy romantic comedies, and we also watched the best of Pedro Almodovar's work. I also tuned into BBC Radio Cymru and took in hours of Welsh programming and also watched lots of Japanese Anime slice of life anime with romantic twists, which Aisling also enjoyed...I kept the subtitles on for her, but each time after an hour I found I no longer really needed the English subtitles for myself. In fact I started to notice certain liberties taken with the translations on some. I still couldn't read or write Japanese to save my life, but I found I could easily understand it now when it was spoken, and I could speak it back acceptably well. No doubt, my written Welsh looked very odd and misspelled, since basically I was using the Irish writing style to convey the sounds of Welsh. Not entirely incomprehensible, but definitely amusingly wrong somehow. Also, I listened to a lot of Spanish news broadcasts out of Madrid and Barcelona on my shortwave radio set, mostly tuning in for more info about the worldwide earthquake phenomenon. When I practiced speaking Spanish aloud, I could definitely detect the Castillian lisp...My newly acquired Spanish definitely sounded European, in contrast to Gunnar & Laurel's Spanish, which was decidedly Mexican.

The domestic bliss in Dublin was short-lived, however, as before long I got an urgent call from Nate that he needed to get into Mag Mell to speak to his Divine Father, Hachiman, as soon as possible, and would like me to accompany him to let Derek know everything was cool and all. I said fine, I'd meet him at Shannon airport and we'd head there together. I said my goodbyes to mum and Aisling and I was off again to the other side of our little island.

O, feckin' hel! Part 2

We all shook off the dragon's first attack and spread out our formation to prepare to retaliate. I sized up the tactical situation and shouted advice and directions to my comrades in arms, who preceded to charge forth into action and land a few good blows. Harlan ignited Laurel's axe once she activated it and charged into battle. He then backed up and was even with me, as Ciara and I had been bringing up the rear.

"Can I get a light?", I asked, proffering the fully extended Gae Bolga.

"Watch where you point that thing.", said Harlan curtly. "Besides, are you sure you can handle burning objects safely?"

"You saw me shrug off the dragon's flame. I think I can take it, or at least I'm willing to suffer a little pain to deal that dragon much MORE pain..."

"Suit yourself.", said Harlan with a shrug, and with a wave of his hand, Gae Bolga was suddenly engulfed in flame.

Drawing on all of my powers of concentration, I drew in a deep breath, took careful aim, then emptied my lungs as I hurled the flaming spear forward and upward at the dragon's hulking form, where it embedded with a sickening thunk and sizzle into the fleshy part of the dragon's shoulder, which let out an angry roar of pain.

"Good shot, Brendan!", Laurel yelled back over her shoulder. "Can I yank this out for ya?!"

"Go for it!" I yelled back, unsheathing Caleb's sword from my belt and preparing to engage in close quarter melee myself.

Laurel tried, but was unsuccessful in pulling out my flaming spear. Nate tried as well, but it wouldn't budge. Gunnar likewise tried and failed. Springing into action with her own attack first, it was Ciara who managed to pull forth Gae Bolga from the dragon's shoulder, causing additional deadly damage on the way out from its branched spines that had deployed upon impact. The dragon roared again in pain.

A few seconds later, I was in position beneath the dragon and swung the obsidian Katana upward and cleaved out a nice slice of the dragon's meaty torso. Gunnar, seeking to deliver a coup de grace, I suppose, suddenly rammed a large bundle of explosives into where Gae Bolga had been lodged and to my horror, clicked the detonator. Next thing I knew, I was flying backwards, just a split second before the explosion, Nate's hands gripped firmly upon my shoulders.

The Dragon, sensing things were really not going well, began to ascend into the sky...somehow Ciara managed to stay on the dragon's back despite its twisting and turning efforts to get airborne. Gunnar tried to leap onto its back as well, but then to my astonishment bounced off the dragon's scales with his feet, as if he were using the dragon's torso like a springboard, and he practically tackled his wife Laurel, who very much had a surprised "WTF?" expression on her face, while Gunnar frantically acted as if she were on fire, swatting at non-existent flames with his cloak and yelling out "Laurel!! LAUREL!!!", rolling her in the snow, which clearly irritated her. The confusion of the moment seemed to spread as I saw Ciara shinny up the dragon's neck to its ears and begin to talk softly to it...I'm not the best at reading lips, but I could wear I saw Ciara utter the opening lines of James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake. The dragon's face contorted comically into one of utter confusion, and remembering my first encounters with Joyce in school, I couldn't help but laugh and say to myself "you and me both, o scaly one."; The dragon stopped its fearsome twisting and turning as its mind seemed locked on Ciara's words...it quickly lost altitude and came crashing down to earth with a mighty thud. Nate jumped back into the fray and so did I. Ciara returned Gae Bolga to my hand.

The dragon was clearly at the end of its rope. A war fury gripped me and I stood towering over its crumpled form, my flaming spear held aloft slightly over my head with both of my hands, ready to drive it down into the beast for a final blow when Harlan yelled at me to "STOP!!", which I did. My fury dissipated as suddenly as it had come. Harlan reminded me of this dragon's relatives and how, just like with Hati and Sköld, we might not want to get entangled with any more divine vendettas than were strictly necessary. Ciara invoked one last incantation that ensured this dragon would not remember any of this fight or who we were or how he became so gravely injured. We left the dragon in the middle of the road. Laurel stabilized the dragon but left it unconscious. It would wake many hours later feeling a lot of pain and utter confusion about how it got that way.

I looked behind me and saw Gunnar burying the last of the explosives he'd acquired, then smash the blasting caps underfoot. Well, that was one solution...maybe further than I would've asked...he could just as well have turned over the stuff to someone a bit more---responsible. If he hadn't, I think I would have summoned the powers of Enech itself to ask that it lay a token Geas upon my companion to keep his hands off explosives for a month or so. But since it seemed Gunnar had already learned the error of his ways and was seeking atonement, I thought a Geas at this point would be closing the barn door after the horses had already gotten out.

We proceeded onward seeking an audience with Hel. We first had to get past a bridge guardian that guarded the moat to Hel's castle. Ciara stepped up and once again Irish muscle duly impressed in this frigid Norse realm.

The audience with Hel was long in coming but finally achieved. Laurel pled her case to the great fearsome Goddess, who looked more bored and annoyed than anything else. Hel would release the corpse Laurel wanted, but first Hel demanded that Laurel find out the reason why Loki stole the feather cloak from her after Hel had gone to all the trouble to retrieve it from wayward Kane in the outskirts of Las Vegas, which I still remembered but honestly it felt like a lifetime ago.

Harlan managed to finagle from Hel a helpful little bauble to keep him from freezing to death on the return trip out of Helheim. Ciara transformed her keychain into a boat and Harlan invoked a special force that kept its interior warm while Ciara carried us back across the frozen wasteland the requisite number of days.

We managed to escape back the way we came; there were a few nail biting moments but suffice it to say we made it back to the sacred tree in Germany where we had begun our trek...many many months later, to our horror. I quickly phoned Ireland and let Aisling and mom know I was ok. Aisling was less concerned, as she remembered how things had gone down in Southern California in the Terra Incognita near Death Valley.

"Please just get back here as soon as you can manage, my love", said Aisling. "We're relatively fine here in Dublin, but if you check the news, you'll see the rest of the world isn't so lucky..."

She switched to Gaelic and told me that basically, it looked as if the world was shaking itself apart.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

O' Feckin' Hel...Part 1.

If Jack had been with us, I'm sure he would have been queuing up an appropriate ACDC track for the occasion.

We met Harlan's divine "guide", who let us know what the requirements would be for reaching Helheim, the ceremony, advice on what to take, etc. I popped off to my apartment in Lyon to pick up my old Irish Army arctic survival gear from my former stint in the Irish Ranger Wing...amazingly it still fits me fine. I am still a reservist, albeit inactive. I also bought a pair of compact skis and ski poles, just in case. I looked more like a tourist headed for the Swiss alps than the Norse underworld, in all likelihood. If it had been possible, I would've preferred to trade in our M-16s for some Russian Federation AK-47s, but there was no time and far too much red-tape to cut through to make that happen on such short notice. Gunnar wondered aloud where to get his hands on some explosives in Germany, and I advised to try construction companies, which he did, and...by means I'd rather just not ask about, acquired what he was after. I also brought along a flare gun and also some flare wands that GARDA uses for traffic control and/or to mark a crime scene.

We dug a hole at the base of an Ash tree over a century old (probably breaking at least a dozen German environmental regulations in the process), Harlan performed a little ritual, and Gunnar stepped up and jumped in without a second thought, just as he'd done at the Cliffs of Moher on the way to Mag Mell. Harlan's guide gave each person a gentle kick as they jumped in.

When my turn came, I can tell you, it felt surreal...at first it was like jumping into any other shallow pit, but then everything went weird for a second and then I felt the pull of gravity acutely again and I realized I was starting to plummet through open air in a large cavern of some sort, or so it seemed. I concentrated on flying, my Celtic tattoo glowed softly and I was airborne. I saw some of my compatriots had splashed down into a freezing cold lake below, while Laurel landed unsteadily on a large....impossibly large...tree root? It took her a few seconds of struggling and stumbling but she did regain her footing eventually. I watched as Harlan fell straight down on top of where Gunnar was wading and I could hear both of them grunt audibly from the impact before this was covered up by the great splash of water a split second later. I felt my lips curl in an involuntary smile and I actually had to fight back a laugh.

Ciara activated her strange transforming keychain birthright and before long our party was in the boat, albeit mostly sopping wet & miserable, save for Laurel and myself, who remained comfortably dry.

Oh, and that guide of Harlan's of course, she was still dry as she followed in behind the last of our party. Her attention was focused on a rather mean looking Norse dragon whose attention we had all managed to catch as we fell into his domain looking not unlike food nuggets at feeding time, I wagered. They had a rather intense conversation in what I took to be Old Norse. Before my eyes, Harlan's guide transformed into a form utterly unmistakable...Brunhild herself, the Valkyrie! As if she's just walked onstage in our own Richard Wagner production...The dragon seemed to curse, glared at us all one last time, then flew off in a huff, if you can say that about a dragon.

Brunhild indicated to Harlan that basically, "you're on your own from here, Kid. You owe me for this, big time.", the details of which to be apparently worked out in future.

When we reached dry land our party were able to strip, start a fire, dry their drenched clothes and then dress again properly for the road trip ahead. Lucky we were all Scions with epic abilities; mere mortals, or even our sacred companions like my new wife, would have succumbed to hypothermia by now. According to our best intelligence, the journey ahead would take 9 days. It didn't matter at what speed we traveled, it would always take 9 days...underworld physics are kind of weird in that way.

A number of days in, we had a chance encounter with some hungry Frost giants who hoped to make us their next meal. We made short work of them, actually, and finally for once I was able to slay a foe with Cúchulainn's weapon, Gae Bolga, with a single blow, in a manner befitting and worthy of Cúchulainn himself. The Frost giant I had struck died in a horrible death spasm when Gae Bolga pierced his chest. When I ripped the mighty spear out of the corpse, I literally ripped the body apart into several uneven, gore-y sections, which to my mild disgust, became the meal of the surviving giants whom we spared after they surrendered. Gunnar told them to remember us as "Axes, Bullets, and Pain", and to spread word to others that we were not to be trifled with.

"Axes, Bullets and Pain" repeated the surviving giants dumbly and by rote. They trundled off with their next meal...feckin' cannibals...

After another day or so on the road, we were spotted by a Frost giant child, who waved us over, said we had been expected by his mistress and wouldn't we please stop to rest and have a meal? We were suspicious, but I guess we were also looking for some relief to the boredom. Ciara had been learning Old Norse from Gunnar, and I was getting tired of listening to her practice verb conjugations. I offered to teach her Old Irish and the Ogham script it is written in. She said she would get back to me.

Anyway, this old woman invited us into her hovel, and after letting Gunnar sample the stew, we decided it was safe and ate our fill. The old woman then showed us her pet bird, which sang for us....so sweetly...I just....

The next thing I knew, Harlan was giving my face a good hard slap and yelling at me to "Snap out of it, Irish", before moving on to the next band member.

Harlan explained that the old crone had been a witch who was determined to use us as a tool for her own personal agenda against the goddess Hel, ruler of this realm. The witch is imprisoned in this hut and needed our bodies to escape. Harlan didn't tell us where she was or what happened, but insisted we get our of there as soon as possible. We liberated some firewood to use later and were on our way.

About a day later, it was once again Gunnar who noticed something, far far off in the distance. Crap, I wish I'd brought along binoculars on this trip...but before long I saw it too, a black, triangular shape in the sky, moving very fast. In the mundane world, I would've assumed it to be either a fighter jet or attack helicopter, but this being the Norse underworld, it was more likely...

...Feckin' dragon. Of course. Same markings as the one we saw that argued with Brunhild. I bet it was the same one. As I was speculating on this, we were within seconds bathed in an eerie, cold fire that light up everything around us in a blueish glow. I knew that if I'd not been wearing my birthright armor, this would've probably hurt like feckin' hell...