Morrígan

A mercurial deity who wears mystery like a mantle, Morrígan likes to have fun with their job of pursuing the souls of the imminently dead. Delivering the news of death can be so dull, why not spice things up by pretending to be a human, tricking people into mistreating you, and then watching them squirm when you reveal yourself to be the Phantom Queen herself? It certainly gives one a good excuse to mark souls for death.

While they could shapeshift to any form they choose, there are a handful that they like to revisit on the regular: the raven, the heifer, and three different women, typically to ensnare men.

For millennia Morrígan has joined the armies of mortals, to taste blood, to select the slain, and to send them portents in the night. They derive amusement from their reactions to their omens, which can range from subtle to absolutely grotesque. Over the millennia, they have come to find humankind both exceedingly foolish—particularly hero types with an overwhelming arrogance and an inability to choose their battles (ahem, looking at you, Cú Chulainn)—and fascinating for their quirks and habits.

Morrígan never forgets a grudge, and every individual who has pissed them off has earned a place on their blacklist. These poor souls are doomed to be stuck in the infinitely long queue at the border checkpoint into the Otherworld for all eternity.

Few know of Morrígan's kinder side, as the overseer of livestock. They love cows almost as much as they love ravens; it bewilders some that they should rule over both, but decay is essential to the turning of the wheel of life, after all.