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Title             : DM-IronAge
Release Date      : 24-7-2001
Author            : Angelheart
Email Address     : jcfal@clara.net
Web Page          : http://home.clara.net/jcfal/

Put DM-IronAge  in the maps folder
Icenitex          in the texture folder
Celtsnds          in the sounds folder





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This was a map I did for Rune a few months back. I wanted to have all my 
maps in UT so I converted it, and then added the real wyrd earth mother section,
for no reason at all :)
I was heavly into the Celtic/ druid sceen for a while so I enjoyed doing this.
I always wondered why no one ever did a game or mod based on the 2000 AD Slain
character who was lifted from Cu'chullain the Irish Celtic Hero, Here's a section 
from a 12 century re telling of the myth The Tain, the kind of stuff Celtic kids would
listen to before going to bed ;)

The Tain

He placed on his head his warlike, crested battle-helmet, from whose every nook and cranny his long drawn scream re-echoed like the screams of a hundred warriors; so it was that the demons and devils and goblins of the glen and fiends of the air cried out from that helmet, before him, above him and around him, whenever he went out to spill the blood of warriors and heroes.  His concealing cloak was spread about him, made of cloth from Tir Tairngire, the Land of Promise.  It was given to him by his magical foster-father.
The first warp-spasm seized Cu'chulainn, and made him into a monstrous thing, hideous and shapeless, unheard of.  His shanks and his joints, every knuckle and angle and organ from head to foot, shook like a tree in the flood or a reed in the stream.  His body made a furious twist inside his skin, so that his feet and shins and knees switched to the rear and his heels and calves switched to the front.  The balled sinews of his calves switched to the front of his shins, each big knot the size of a warrior's bunched fist.  On his head the temple-sinews stretched to the nape of his neck, each mighty, immense, measureless knob as big as the head of a month-old child.  His face and features became a red bowl: he sucked one eye so deep into his head that a wild crane couldn't probe it onto his cheek out of the depths of his skull; the other eye fell out along his cheek.  His mouth weirdly distorted: his cheek peeled back from his jaws until the gullet appeared, his lungs and liver flapped in his mouth and throat, his lower jaw struck the upper a lion-killing blow, and fiery flakes large as a rain's fleece reached his mouth from his throat.  His heart boomed loud in his breast like the baying of a watch-dog at its feed or the sound of a lion among bears.  Malignant mists and spurts of fire - the torches of the Badb - flickered red in the vaporous clouds that rose
boiling above his head, so fierce was his fury.  The hair of his head twisted like the tangle of a red thornbush stuck in a gap; if a royal apple tree with all its kingly fruit were shaken above him, scarce an apple would reach the ground but each would be spiked on a bristle of his hair as it stood up on his scalp with rage.  The hero-halo rose out of his brow, long and broad as a warrior's whetstone, long as a snout, and he went mad rattling his shields, urging on his charioteer and harassing the hosts.  Then, tall and thick, steady and strong, high as the mast of a noble ship, rose up from the dead centre of his skull a straight spout of black blood darkly and magically smoking like the smoke from a royal hostel when a king is coming to be cared for at the close of a winter day.
When that spasm had run through the high hero Cu'chulainn he stepped into his sickle war-chariot that bristled with points of iron and narrow blades, with hooks and hard prongs and heroic frontal spikes, with ripping instruments and tearing nails on its shafts and straps and loops and cords.  The body of the chariot was spare and slight and erect, fitted for the feats of a champion, with space for a lordly warrior's eight weapons, speedy as the wind or as a swallow or a deer darting over the level plain.  The chariot was settled down on two fast steeds, wild and wicked, neat-headed and narrow-bodied, with slender quarters and roan breast, firm in hoof and harness - a notable sight in the trim chariot-shafts.  One horse was lithe and swift-leaping, high-arched and powerful, long-bodied and with great hooves.  The other flowingmaned and shining, slight and slender in hoof and heel.
In that style, then, he drove out to find his enemies and did his thunder-feat and killed a hundred, then two hundred, then three hundred, then four hundred, then five hundred, where he stopped - he didn't think it too many

Phew :)

Other inspiration came from Simon Bisleys Art for Slain
see pic

                  
Copyright / Permissions
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If you want to use anything from this map in your own, mail me. 
Why not mail me anyway to let me know what you think  :)
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