darkelfoftheninerealms:

massacregoddess:

fuckyeahvikingsandcelts:

quintus5:

deitiesanddemons:

the-blessed-isles:

themythicarchives:

bythegods:

Cuchulainn

One of the greatest heroes of Irish mythology was Cuchulainn, the warrior champion of Ulster. Think of him as the “Irish Achilles,” as when it came to kicking ass, he was number one, but his fiery temper caused some real problems. He was given the name Setanta at birth, but was dubbed Cuchulainn, which means “Hound of Culann” when at a very young age he killed a ferocious guard hound with his bare hands, and offered to take its place guarding the castle. Cuchualainn was the great-grandson of the god Aonghus, and so had both noble and divine blood in his veins. So widespread was Cuchulainn’s fame that his exploits influenced the development of the Arthurian myths in Britain and France.

After he had been given the name of Cuchulainn, he was eager to head out and take on Ulster’s enemies, and fought three semi-divine warriors named Foill, Fannell and Tuachell, along with their numerous followers. He killed them all with little trouble. Want to know how? Cuchulainn’s battle-frenzy was a horrifying thing: his body trembled violently, his heels and calves moved to the front of his legs, one eye receded into his head, and the other stood out huge and red on his cheek. A man’s head could fit into his jaw, his hair bristled like hawthorn, with a drop of blood at the end of each single hair, and from the top of his head arose a thick column of dark blood like the mast of a ship. Who would try to fight that thing!? 

Cuchulainn trained in the Land of Shadows under Scathach, a warrior princess, where he learned his famous battle leap and became the most powerful warrior in the land. He used his skills in his final campaign, defending Ulster against a whole army by himself. Fighting to the last in spite of curses and being outnumbered thousands-to-one, Cuchulainn tied himself to an upright stone so that he could fight to his very last breath, even as he was wounded and dying. Cuchulainn’s fate was sealed when he spurned the advances of Morrigan, the goddess of death on the battlefield. As he died, Morrigan rested on his shoulder in the form of a crow, signalling the end of the mighty hero. Cuchulainn was gone, but do not weep, my friends; badasses live on forever. 

~Fiendlover~

I fucking love the Cuchulainn myths

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