Fate is an unusual thing. An unseen force predicting every action of every being. Some deities can see it, recognizing the flow of the plan. There are none, save one, that claims mastery over it, that manipulates it with such cold intent, that steers it ever toward war and the red demise of heroes. In truth, she is many Goddesses, with many names and many forms. But there is only one title. The Morrigan Anu, Macha, Badb. Individually, these three Goddesses were sisters, progenitors of sovereignty, war, and death. They were caretakers of their lush green Éire, champions for armored soldiers, guides for the deceased. It is unknown what bound them together. Some whispered curse, some lover’s scorn. Some dark power or darker purposes. But now they are one. She’s been seen in many shapes. The lurid seductress, the wrinkled hag, the screaming crow, and worst of all, the washer in the river. For those who witness her cleaning their bloody armor prophesies a violent end. Subtle and manipulative, there is no war The Morrigan did not incite. No dying breath she did not collect. Even this war, a war between Gods, must secretly be of her making. So, beware those that behold her, for The Morrigan controls your fate.
