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    Pogue Mahone
    Pogue Mahone

    Posts : 5
    Join date : 2009-02-25

    Póg Mo Thóin Empty Póg Mo Thóin

    Post  Pogue Mahone on Wed Feb 25, 2009 4:45 am

    ****** For those who might not know; Póg Mo Thóin is Irish-Gaelic for Kiss Me Arse *****

    Born into the struggles abound in Northern Ireland, Séamus Ó Dónaill had been prepared his entire life to pick up the cause from those who came before. His father, and father's fathers, carried a legacy of being Patriots. Whether it was smuggling guns, defending loyal homes or a well placed dispatch of an opposition leader; his father had lived every bit the life Séamus dreamed to be a part of.

    Being tall and lean, from toiling on the farm as well as the training offered him by his father's group, he quickly became known as "Longshanks." He was destined to be the splitting image of his father, personally and professionally. This was all that he knew, and all that he wanted to know.

    The day he turned 16, fully prepared to take up arms in his nation's struggle, he recieved the news that his father would be returning to the farm permananty. His father's group was decommissioned upon orders of weak-minded liberal usurpers. The return was bittersweet for Séamus. Excited to see his father who had been absent so much of his life, he was not expecting the man who greeted him despondantly. This man was a broken shell, not hardly a spark of his former passion remained.

    With the dissolution of his group, Séamus' father had little to nothing to live for and spiralled further into depression and drinking. Two years of cleaning up after his broken drunk father, Séamus grew restless with the passion of his lineage.
    He asked his father during a rare moment of licidity, "Why have we given up our fight? Our ancester's fight for freedom and liberty?"

    "Son, there can be no more fighting, no more cause. We were sold out to promises of reform and deceitful 'peace.'" his father replied with slumped shoulders. A small spark of fire flashed across his father's eyes, but only a mere moment and it was gone. "Don't ye go on about it, it is done, over, finished; and I donnae want to hear another word about it!"

    This was a crushing blow to the still burning heart of the young man, and this was not lost on the old fighter. Before his son could speak another word of protest, his father rose up to his once constant full frame and burned a firey gaze into his son's eyes. "I will not have ye recklessly runnin off to fight some forgotten war! Tomorrow you will leave this isle forever and never return! My son will live without this struggle!" his father's booming voice demanded.

    Deep anger in his heart, but unwaivering respect for the man who had been larger than all the world to him, Séamus boarded the next ship off the island. He watched his beautiful land shrink behind him until he could no longer see anything but the roiling waters of the Atlantic growing larger on his way to America.

    He arrived to a completely different land than he ever imagined, yet even though this place intrigued him, his heart was too full of spite and anger. He cared for nothing more than fighting, the more brutal the fight the better.

    One evening, after he had just dispatched his third opponent of the day in an underground makeshift ring still caked with the dried blood of so many fighters, he was approached by a man with a plan for him.

    "You fight well boy! But I can make you better. I can make you a star!" said the large man.

    "I ain't no boyo, and you can shove yer stars up yer shiny arse!" Séamus venomously retorted, as he started to walk away.

    "Hah! You have spirit, that's for sure! I tell you what forget being a star, I can make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams!" returned the man.

    "Póg Mo Thóin!" Séamus spat, and continued towards the filthy lockeroom.

    "I don't know what that means, but I sure do like how it sounds! Fine, I see you could care less about fame and fortune, but I do know what you really want. You want to fight? Come with me, and you will be able to fight the best in the world!" the man slyly stated.

    Séamus stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to glare at the smiling man. After a long moment, he simply said "I'm listening..."

    ----------------------------------------------------------

    "Do dhóthain atá agat d'fhulaingt, Agus de chogadh leat féin, Tá sé in am go mbeadh an lá leat!"
    You have suffered enough, And warred with yourself, It's time that you won"
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