Bran the Blessed
Bran the Blessed's Wall
Guess what I did?
I really don't want to know.
Check the stables.
Ugh! Why did you cut up all the gorgeous horses Matholwch gave us?
It's called payback. Those Irishmen are a pain and I didn't want our sister marrying one of them.
You have no concept of gratitude. It's like that time you ate my birthday cake before I even got a chance to blow out the candles.
Bran! Check your aviary!
Hey, Branwen. I just see a starling there. What's up?
Look at the message tied to its leg, dummy!
WHAT? Matholwch cast you out of his house and sent you to the kitchens? Why?
He's still ticked off at our family because Efnisien maimed the horses he gave us.
Don't worry. I'll save you.
Bran, you owe me a gift!
Why? What did Efnisien do now?
It's still the same problem. I don't think you British respect us enough. How could he cut up our horses otherwise?
I'm so over this. Will you shut up if I give you my magic cauldron? If you drop a dead guy in it, he'll come back to life.
is playing Grand Theft Auto. What are these "auto" things, though? I don't get it.
Wading across the ocean to get to Ireland. Wet clothes suuuuuck.
What is it, little buddy? You're my nephew; you know I got your back.
Uncle Efnisien threw me into a fire. He got really peeved when you forced my dad off the throne of Ireland in my favor, so he decided to make me well-done.
He'll pay! I'm so sorry.
Nothing you can do now. He killed himself by jumping into the magic cauldron you gave my dad.
Ugh. He never got the punishment he deserved. What a bully!
Who's there? Bran, are you alive? That was one bloody battle against Matholwch. Plus, those Irish kept tossing their dead into that cauldron, so they were reborn.
I'm not doing so well, pal. I got hit in the foot with a poisoned arrow. It's a bit hard to walk. I checked around, though. It's worse than we thought—only seven of us are still alive, and I don't think I'm gonna make it.
Noooo! What will we do without you?
First of all, make sure my son Caradog doesn't eat too much sugar. Second, cut off my head and stick it under the White Hill near Londinium. It should be facing east. That way, I'll always protect England against invasion from that direction.
is chilling under what's now the Tower of London. Or, at least, my noggin is.
Hey, Bran. What's going on?
Not much, HH. Are we heading to the Decapitated Dudes meeting later?