#uathach

[gzeidraws]

Scathach, Julia, and their child Uathach making their New Year visit ⛩️ A commission for Profexxo !

[hawkogurl]

Mansplain: Conchobar

Manipulate: Uathach

Malewife: Cú Chulainn

Gaslight: Medb

Gatekeep: Ferdia

Girlboss: Emer

Laeg not included because he’s never done anything wrong in his life

[oddnub-eye]

The Full Ulster Cycle Cringe Compilation

Cu Chulainn: Killing his own son

Emer: Being told her husband has Love Sickness, telling him to go fix that problem, and then being surprised at what fixing Love Sickness entails.

Conchobar Mac Nessa: Literally, his entire career

Conall Cernach: Getting his ass kicked by a 7 year old

Medb: Gathering the biggest army the continent had ever seen, only to get curbstomped by a 17-year-old

Scathach: Honestly, a lot of Scathach's career is a cringe compilation, but special shoutouts goes to failing to drug a 6-year-old.

Aoife: Getting her ass kicked by a 6-year-old (or maybe a 10 year old, if you're being generous)

Uathach: Selling out her mom's time of vulnerability so a demigod she had a crush on could go threaten said mom to get engaged to Uathach (this one could be considered a power move though)

Fergus Mac Roich: Getting his sword stolen while in the middle of cucking Ailill

Ailill: Accidently hampering Connacht's war effort by stealing Fergus' sword as a haha funny joke

Connla: Being so short he needed to stand on two pillars to reach the height of an adolescent girl (Cu is described as being the height of an adolescent girl by Medb)

Laeg: Nothing, Laeg did nothing wrong

Ferdiad: Being killed by having a spear literally shoved up his ass

[incorrect-ulster-cycle]

Úathach: You fight like my elderly mother!

Cú Chulainn: I’ve fought your mother! That’s a compliment!

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #14: Scour

One of the benefits of having his own place to retreat to was that he never had to worry about running out of hot water, a fact that, despite the lateness of the hour, he was taking full advantage of at present. Steam rises gently above the tub as Idristan hastily undresses, leaving blood-streaked clothing in a heap to be dealt with later. He then lets out a contented groan as he sinks down into the near scalding water, the heat helping to soothe his aching muscles. It had been a long day and an even longer night, and at this point he was just grateful to Halone that he was finally home.

He lets his head fall back, simply closing his eyes and lying there, savoring the moment--before he finally sighs softly and picks up a scrub brush to start attacking the more stubborn bits of dirt and blood that clung to him. Not his blood, this time; instead it was all voidal, which meant that he really did want it off him as soon as possible. While he was fairly sure that it only had an effect if he consumed it, he didn’t want to take chances.

As he goes through those familiar, almost mechanical motions, his mind starts to wander. That was another voidsent gone. It had been a good, proper hunt, with a final conclusion. Unlike the one that they had done a few days ago. That one continued to nag at him, perhaps because he didn’t actually know what the creature’s fate actually was.

And it had threatened Mirette too. He couldn’t just forget that. He had to warn her. Had to let her know. Just in case something happened, if the Order wasn’t actually capable of keeping something like that contained. It had known too much about her, who she had once been.

The name comes unbidden into his mind: Uathach. It still caused a shiver to run down his spine, especially during this time of year, when it was harder to forget what had happened. What she had done. It had been well over a year now, yet he could still picture her. The wings, the arms. And the eyes. The eyes most of all. They had been seared into his memory, ever since... ever since...

Suddenly his breath catches, his eyes going wide. He could see her indeed, only it wasn’t just in the realm of his imagination. It was as if she were there before him, as if he were back in that place, that dark void filled with nothing but her and her terrible pets. As if he couldn’t move again, just as it had been before she had twisted and shaped him into something... something else...

“N-no...” he breathes. Though it seems to take all of his will, he manages to squeeze his eyes shut. “Not again... not again...” The words tumble from his lips, over and over as time passes. He’s not quite sure how much time, exactly; the only reason he becomes aware of it is because of the dull, throbbing ache beginning in his left shoulder.

This, finally, causes him to open his eyes--and when he does so, he finds himself in his bathroom, alone, with no voidsent in sight. That didn’t explain the shoulder though... He looks down to his left, then winces. While he himself might have been frozen in place by fear, his hands had not been idle. One of them had attacked the spot on his shoulder with the brush, over and over and over, leaving the whole area red and raw.

The brush drops from his fingers, landing with a soft splash that was drowned out by a soft sob issuing from the man’s throat. He draws his knees closer, as if folding in on himself, and lowers his head, his body shaking as he starts to weep. By the time he has finished, the sky outside has started to lighten, and the water around him has long since gone cold.

[mannys-rp]

Journal 3 - Bending to the Wind

Talking with Corcair helped me so much, I will always remember what he told me. But all the stories couldn’t answer my question, why was my dream of Trahearne? Other sylvari dream of places to visit or goals to achieve. Why did I dream of someone already dead?

That night I left the safety of the Grove, maybe visiting the places Trahearne touched would tell me what I need to do. I didn’t get far before arriving at Caer Astorea and running into a wall named Captain Uathach. She tried stopping me from venturing further into Caledon Forest. 

She called me green, said I wasn’t ready for the things beyond the Grove. I know she meant well but I hate how second and thirdborns threat me. Strength comes not just from experience. We saplings are strong too, there is power in bending to the wind and still remaining rooted.

[secrets-and-aetherlight]

Home

Outside, the salt air is bracing, but below decks  the stench of death, waste, and unwashed bodies is overpowering. Throughout the ship, crew members lie in twisted heaps, their faces contorted in horror and their bodies devoid of aether. Standing in the dim hold, Mirette gazes at an assortment of large cages, each crammed with filthy, wretched children.

Most of the youngsters are huddled together, either hiding their faces or staring at Mirette in terror as she lets her latest kill crumple to the floor. But a few of the bravest stand as close as they may, their little hands wrapped around the bars of their cages as they gaze at Mirette with awe… and hope.

One Lalafell girl with matted green hair and huge brown eyes catches Mirette's attention. There's something very determined in the way she holds herself - kidnapping and enslavement haven't broken her spirit yet.

"What's your name?" Mirette asks her, stepping over the body of her victim as she approaches the cage.

The Lalafell offers her a tremulous smile. "Loloka. Have you come to take us home?"

Mirette frowns. Home? The word echoes in her mind, conjuring images of a life long past. Home. Yes, she'd been acquainted with that word, once. But she suspects it means something different for her than to these shivering youngsters.

Killing slavers was her only goal today. Feeding on aether and crushing predators - most of them men - was her idea of a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. But she didn't plan this far, somehow. Bast had told her about the slavers and sent her on her way to feed, but he never told her what to do with the children. Maybe he'd expected her to feed on them, too.

Tempting. Very tempting. There are ample food sources here, many of them on the verge of blossoming into aether-rich adults. But there's something about the expression in Loloka's eyes that stops her. This girl clearly considers Mirette to be her savior.

What would it be like, playing the hero? How would it feel to know that she had saved lives instead of consuming them?

"I've just killed all the crew," Mirette says slowly, a plan forming in her mind. "Can any of you help me get this ship to shore?"

Loloka smiles. "Many of us are Limsan. We can manage."

And that's how Mirette finds herself doing something good and becoming a surrogate aunt to dozens of children in the process.

[mythos-theos]

Badass Mythical Women and Creatures → Scáthach

In the Ulster Cycle of Irish Mythology, Scáthach (“The Shadow” or “Warrior Maid”) is a warrior woman and martial arts teacher that runs an instructional school for young warriors, called Dún Scáith. She taught the Ulster hero Cú Chulainn, and gave her deadly spear, Gáe Bulg, to him. She also blessed the marriage of her daughter, Uathach, to Cú Chulainn.

Scáthach is the daughter of Árd-Greimne of Lethra, and sister of Aífe. The two sisters were fierce rivals, and after Aífe threatens Scáthach and her land, Cú Chulainn nearly kills and rapes Aífe.