Welcome to Gaia! ::

"No---if anything, we're better off keeping them alive. Do you understand to what lengths she will go to kill you now? If we kill them, you're only going to invoke her to appear in her truest form---and that, ally, would not be desireable to you. If she incarnates in her own physical form, there will be no resting. You were lucky this time. Morrigan is a goddess of war, vengeance, prophecy, magick, and death, things along those lines. She's a great mother to the ones who use magick.... She may have started it. I'm not entirely sure myself, I never listened to those tales from Ireland. She's the Washer at the Ford---the haggard, or sometimes astonishingly beautiful woman washing the blood from the armor of the soldiers that would die that day. I do know one story about Cuchulain, however..." he frowned slightly. "He denied her help, and she was pissed enough to come down and....let's just say it wasn't good. He eventually made up with her, however, and appeased her before death if I recall correctly. She decides the outcome of battles, as well...."
He shook his head. "This is the entire reason I've been warring with her factions for so long. Now that she's actually presented herself, and there's a priest...." he shook his head, "Just hope she doesn't take on her sister aspects. If she frenzies, we're ******** looked over the woman with a mixture of admiration and hate, sighing. "Fighting with the goddess was a bad thing. Before all of this, if we would have killed Morrigan, the tribe would've fallen, unless Vincent took up the hunt for a chosen. Now, however, we'll simply have to keep her in a state of...well, we have options. Slavery is always an option. It would keep her in constant sight in the event Po-ar tried to save her."

Naga nodded. "Won't be a problem. You expelled her holy power, after all. The only thing that's protecting her now is the woad tattoos---otherwise, she's armorless, weaponless....generally defenseless. Besides, you're a scary demon. We only have to worry about whether or not she'll teleport." he smirked, his mind fully reviewing their situation. "She's a human now. If she even had the slightest bit of courage against you before, she won't now."

Naga nodded. "We'll do that now, while she's still asleep. GUARDS!" he called, and two men appeared, whisking the woman away.

This was eventually how Morrigan came to awaken; as roughly handled as she was, it was hard to stay unconscious. The water of the lake was cold, and the men would hold her underwater to the point she nearly choked.
"Is she clean yet?!" Naga shouted from the shore, and the guards shook their heads.
There was a chance that in her haste the dye hadn't set as deeply as it should've. "KEEP SCRUBBING!" he ordered, "I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE SLIGHTEST HINT!"
Morrigan knew she was in a fix---she hadn't prepared the woad as a dye so much as a paint this time around, the time too short to waste.
She needed to escape, and fast, but she could hardly put up any resistance. Inside, she was screaming for Po-ar, though her voice never cried a word.

Vincent was unable to sleep, pacing the hallways of the palace restlessly. Without Morrigan returning, he couldn't help but feel a sickening clench in his stomach. He hated the idea of her being in trouble.
"Mighty ones, help us..." he murmured quietly, stopping in the kitchen to try and find some wine or meade of sorts. He wouldn't have minded whiskey either, honestly.
He hated feeling so utterly helpless.

"DONE!" shouted one of the guards, and Morrigan closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing.
Po-ar wasn't coming. She knew this, and she understood why.
She had to be strong.
**Don't worry,** she reached out to him, a different approach overtaking her mindset, **Everything is going to be alright.**
The guards dragged her from the lake, and she donned her cloak, glaring at them both fiercely.
"That's right," Naga murmured with a smile, "You're being reduced to an animal. Without your spirit, you're as brute as the humans you came from."
That seriously enraged the woman, but she was unable to attack, standing indignantly. She was proud all the same.

Vincent knocked quietly on Trunks' and Ashuri's room, having made a cup of tea for the woman. "Trunks," he spoke low, "I have something for the fever."

Morrigan glared up at Konton, holding her head high and proud. She was queenly like her goddess, even in her position.
Her thoughts were focused on Po-ar now. He had to be strong too. **Listen to me,** she reached out, focusing deeply on her breath, **You are a priest, whether you understand or not, you have to try. I will be strong. You have to be strong too. You must protect the tribe, Po-ar,** she pleaded, **I can't help but fear for them, now that I am here. Naga has tried to kill us for a long, long time, and as of late, we've been falling, but you can make them strong. I know you can. If not for me, for them, or both. I beg of you. Please.**
It was the most sincere plea she could make, because she understood his position. She wasn't going to be rescued, not anytime soon; it was a grim fact she had come to accept, but she was a fiercely proud thing, and determined to endure. She would stand tall as her stature allowed, she would not cower, not unless forced. Konton was a serious foe to mess with, whereas she had little fear of Naga.
"She's done the most damage to you," Naga spoke up, looking to Konton. "Do as you will with her."
She could feel her energy gathering at her base chakra; survival, strength, anger, fear, power, violence. She had to be strong, she had to. She kept repeating this to herself; if she truly believed it, things would be alright in the end. Her goddess had never failed her in that respect.
She only hoped this time would prove no different. If she would have had her powers, she would be encased in a pillar of fire, like the goddess Brighid when she was born; instead, she tensed her muscles, feeling the ki running through her veins. What had happened to sap her the way she was?
In truth, Morrigan was in a ruffled state herself, and this was something that she came to realize in those moments. The stinging of air against open flesh wasn't pleasant...
What had happened to her arms and legs? She already had the scar that snaked around her torso; as if she didn't have enough.
This was going to be hell, but she trusted in herself. Obviously her goddess did.

Vincent shook his head. "I have no idea," he sighed, "The only thing I can come up with is that we have to get Po-ar out of his mood, or we're all dead anyhow. If they attack us like that a second time, it's very unlikely we'll survive."

Morrigan took the hit with a soft growl, slowly straightening herself afterwards. She had taken worse. She had to remember that.
She had taken much, much worse.
"No, eating would be a really, really bad thing." Naga agreed, watching the woman closely.
Hmn. She was in a tight fix. The only thing she gathered was that she could not be killed---this was a relief, to some extent. Someone would save her eventually or she'd save herself somehow. It wasn't beyond her capabilities, was it?
However, the block in communication made her anxious. Something had to be done to protect the people, and to overwhelm Konton.
She just didn't know what.

Vincent blinked at Trunks with a shrug. "Well, that's true---but we must also take into account how close he and Morrigan have grown on eachother, coupled with the fact she didn't come back." he sighed. "If not for the sisterly connection she has to me, I would have feared her dead already. Thankfully I know otherwise."

Vincent shook his head. "Well.... Not with Morrigan. We need a priestess or a priest to defeat Konton; now that we're down a priestess, and a priest at least as far as I know... Listen, I'll be right back." he replied, patting the Saiyajin firmly on the shoulder. "Take care of your woman. I hope she gets better."
He left the room, gliding down the halls until he found Po-ar's room. Without even knocking, he entered the dark room, sitting down on a couch before he noticed Morrigan's clothes on the floor.
It struck him then, and he regarded the man with intrigue. "Morrigan hasn't died, you know." he spoke softly, staring into the flames of the fireplace, "We'll need a priest to save her."

Morrigan spat at Naga, something that enraged him; however, she wouldn't go so far as to...
Eh, sure she would. She spat at Konton also, except she missed. Spitting wasn't one of her finer points, but she was working on it.
Naga snarled at her, backhanding her across the jaw. "Woman, know your place!" he barked, but she wasn't deterred.
"With or without my powers, you aren't half the warrior I am." she announced curtly to the sylvan man, fire in her eyes, "You couldn't make me serve you if you had all the power in the world."
"Is that so?" Naga asked, glancing to Konton. "Well, a personal servant would work," he agreed with the demon, "We'd have to break her, but it would be well worth it."
"You've tried enslaving and breaking us before," Morrigan argued, "But you know as well as I---you could always tell which were our people. You cannot break us. We'll hold fire within us no matter how hard you try to kill it."
She was passionately furious, now, worried over Po-ar and her people, her brother, the others. What would they do if there was another attack? What was going on? Were they alright?
Whatever happened to Maeve, and was there a possibility she could find out, here?
Another smirk crossed her face, and she stared up at her captors defiantly. "Besides," she added, partially bluffing, "before long, we'll have enough to bring Maeve back from you."
Here Naga looked a bit surprised, glancing over to Konton to see his reaction as well. She wasn't supposed to know---how could she?