The Power of Endings and Beginnings

The Champion could not hold his place for his anger. Fine boots, normally kept so clean were scuffed and muddy from his  treading back and forth.

Dagda sat on the ground before his home, a huge butter churn in between his thick thighs, big hands wrapped around the broad strapped handle of a massive length of wood as he raised and lowered it, driving its shaft into the pale time and again with slow measured strokes.

"You'll wear a hole in those fancy shoes of yours"

Lugh spun on him, levelling that spear of his to point at the other chieftain.

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