#think of the segmented body the divine beast could have! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theyoungkleinwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Mini Myths #1: The Epic of Gilgamesh

Well for the first of my mini myths I think it’s only appropriate to start with what is considered the oldest written story in the entire history of the world. Now the way I’m going to structure these little mythological segments is by first looking at the context of the myth and then go into the actual myth itself before finishing off with a short piece about how they myth has been used and perceived in the modern day.

Context

The Epic of Gilgamesh is considered the old text of literature and is consider the second oldest religious text dating all the way back from the time of ancient Mesopotamia and is dated roughly around 2000 BCE. The epic itself was written on stone tablets with five Sumerian (The people Gilgamesh ruled over) poems being discovered. The Old Babylonian tablets dated around 1,800 BCE are the oldest surviving tablets for a single Epic of Gilgamesh narrative. Other tablet fragments have been dated closer to 200 BCE and 100 BCE suggesting that the epic is a widespread story in Sumerian culture. The most recent version of the story referred to as the Akkadian version and also called the Standard Babylonian version, consists of twelve tablets and was edited by Sîn-lēqi-unninni, who is thought to have lived sometime between 1300 BCE and 1000 BCE. Essentially the story is made up of several tablets that we have collected from different centuries to generally try to piece together a singular narrative. It bears noting the the I will be using the standard Babylonian version which is known for the Twelfth tablet being different from the others and thought to have been written at a later date.

The Epic of Gilgamesh

In a time of the old world when gods still walked the earth there stood a great and noble kingdom in ancient Mesopotamia. This was a rich and fertile land between the twin rivers of the Tigris and the Euphrates that provided its people with plenty and bountiful harvests. This rich land was populated by the great kingdom of Uruk, a kingdom ruled over by a man named Gilgamesh. Now Gilgamesh was not just any ordinary man, he was born two thirds a god and one third a mortal man. However this combination of divine birth and mortal fallacy helped to craft Gilgamesh into a cruel tyrant of a king who abused both his menfolk and the women, using them as he pleased with no regard for their lives.

In desperation the people of Uruk called out to the gods for help. And the god hear their pleas. From clay they craft a perfect equal to Gilgamesh, a divine being known as Enkidu. As he arrives in the mortal world he first meets a trapper who asks the gods to stop Enkidu from destroying his traps. The sun god Shamash send a temple prostitute to Enkidu and for nearly a fortnight the two spend time together in the warm embrace of lovers; and she teaches him all she can tell about the world on man, and of the civilisations born on earth.

The prostitute introduces him to a shepherd where he learns the craft of the trade until one day from a passing stranger he hears of the plight of the people of Uruk. Incensed by Gilgamesh’s heartless cruelty he races to the palace and faces down the king of Uruk. In that instant the pair fought with fire and fury and divine wroth as the engaged in a battle so fierce it compelled even the gods themselves to bear witness. Yet after a singular mighty blow Enkidu was brought to his knees and acknowledged the king, Gilgamesh, to be the superior of the two. And as a result the two naturally struck up an intense friendship that even the god themselves could not predict.

The pair shared in each others company and comforts as they travelled on many adventures together. They visited Gilgamesh’s mother the goddess Ninsun who adopted Enkidu as her own son. Later on they travelled to the Cedar forest where they defeat the guardian of the forest Humbaba and take his head as well as several of the strongest trees with the strongest of these to be used by Enkidu to craft into a gate for the temple of Enlil.

Upon their return the goddess Ishtar, queen of all that is fertile and ripe, falls for the king of Uruk and pursues him. However when Gilgamesh rejects her advances she used her immense powers to cause devastation throughout the lands of Uruk, lowering the level of the Euphrates and ultimately summoning Gugalanna, the divine bull of heaven to destroy Gilgamesh and Enkidu. But the king and his companion were too strong and overcame the powers of the bull, slaying it and offering up its heart to Shamash much to the displeasure of Ishtar.

And yet on this occasion the two companions had gone too far in their quest for fame and glory. In their anger at the deaths of Humbaba and Gulalanna the gods curse Enkidu was horrific dreams until, after twelves days of horrid torment Enkidu succumbs to his sickness. In one final moment he reached to the sky and cries out to his friend, who holds him in his arms as he passes into the world of the dead. Yet the king of Uruk had more faith in his friend than that and clung to Enkidu’s body, refusing to believe he was dead until a pale white maggot, dropped from his nose and into the kings lap.

Gilgamesh wailed at the death of his friend, his lament reaching the heavens themselves and bringing even the gods to tears for what they had done. He calls out for the mountains and trees, the rivers and deserts, to all beasts of the land and to all the peoples of the world to mourn for the death of his dearest friend. Gilgamesh provides ample gifts from his endless treasury to help his friend ensure a favourable reception in the world of the dead.

Then the mighty king left Uruk and wandered the wilderness in nought but animal skins, lost in both body and in spirit. Yet it was among the far and wasted lands that the king became fearful for his own mortality and sought to spare his mortal soul the pains of death, seeking out Utnapishtim (The Faraway Lands) and learn the secret of eternal life.

In his quest Gilgamesh faces set back after setback though his own malic and wrought feelings of self-importance. He rejects warning after warning and presses on relentlessly for his ultimate goal. Upon reaching Utnapishtim Gilgamesh tells him his story however the immortal man warns him that fighting the common fate of humans is futile and diminishes life's joys. Utnapishtim was a survivor of a flood that wiped out the last race of humans and as a reward for surviving the god Enlil blessed both him and his wife with eternal life. Utnapishtim points out that his immortality was a unique gift and not something most mortal men were meant to achieve however Gilgamesh reminds him that he is not mere mortal man. To test him Utnapishtim challenges Gilgamesh to stay awake for sic days and seven night but tragically Gilgamesh is still one third mortal and he quickly succumbs to sleep.

Yet Utnapishtim was no cruel or spiteful and he offered Gilgamesh one more chance, he could not grant the king immortality but he told him of a plant at the bottom of the sea he could use to restore his youth. Thanking the immortal man Gilgamesh tied stones to his feet, sucked in a mighty breath and dove to the bottom of the sea. Finally, after many travels the king reached the plant and seized it. Feeling part of his hunger for life sated he made to return to Uruk where he would use the plant to restore his youth. Yet greater than the gods was the cruel hand of fate. As he returned the king made to bathe himself in a small lake. In that moment a slithering serpent darted from the undergrowth and snatched up the plant leaving the king once more with nothing. Broken the king first weeps then is seized by uncontrollable laughter as he realises how foolish it was to chase immortality. He returns to Uruk, where the sight of its massive walls prompts him to praise this enduring work to Urshanabi the man who ferried him to Utnapishtim.

Tablet twelve features a tale after these events where Enkidu is still alive and of a journey he make to the underworld to retrieve some of Gilgamesh’s possessions. It ends with Enkidu recounting the tale of his journey through the underworld with Gilgamesh.

Learning from the past

In the modern day the Epic of Gilgamesh hasn't had as much mainstream focus like the Greek pantheon or Norse mythology. However it has found a home in some popular media with a version of this tale being explored in the anime TV series ‘Fate’. Despite a lack of popular interest in the epic of Gilgamesh in western media however in the archaeological circle it has seen a lot of research and assigned significance. Interestingly in 1998 American Assyriologist Theodore Kwasman discovered a piece believed to have contained the first lines of the epic poem in the storeroom of the British Museum which has been used to determine that Gilgamesh may have been a real Babylonian king. The epic ha been translated and used by different people for different purposes with a definitive version published in 2003 by Andrew George which is considered the most significant work on Gilgamesh in 70 years. Yet on the other hand there is the case in 2004 as Stephen Mitchell supplied a controversial version that took many liberties with the text and included modernized allusions and commentary relating to the Iraq War of 2003. Clearly the Epic of Gilgamesh may still yet be used and have relevance in the modern world, particularly in the world of the Middle-East.

What i find we can learn from the epic is it provides clear context for views on how Sumerian’s valued particular morals and the tale helps to provide insight into Sumerian society and culture. It become key to aiding our understanding of ancient peoples and what they valued, providing points of comparison to the world we live in today with its moral teachings; particularly about the fruitless pursuit of things like immortality.

#writing #myth #mythology #mini myth #gilgamesh

14 notes · View notes

1b-rainstorming · 4 years ago

Text

Assigning JoJo Stands to Class 1B Students

Exactly what it says in the title. Side note before we begin: these Stand matchups are not perfect, nor are they completely based on their Quirks, just what I personally think fits them best. If you have any disagreements or concerns, feel free to send in an ask.

All respective Stands listed will be linked to their wiki page. SPOILERS for JoJo Parts 3-8 below the cut.

Awase Yousetsu - NUT KING CALL

Nut King Call is able to fasten two objects between a nut and a connecting bolt, akin to Awase’s Weld. As an added factor, Nut King Call’s ability to generate and affix nuts and bolts matches Awase’s mechanical aesthetic well.

Kaibara Sen - PURPLE HAZE

Purple Haze is a lethal, indiscriminate Stand that requires a lot of careful control, similar in concept to that of Gyrate, though the latter does not have a toxic aspect to it.

Kamakiri Togaru - CRAZY DIAMOND

Crazy Diamond was chosen because of its high offensive capabilities befitting to that of a close-quarters protagonist Stand.

Kuroiro Shihai - ENIGMA

Though perhaps not an obvious choice, Enigma’s overall versatility and non-fighting ability make it a good match for Kuroiro. The added ‘scaring’ activation method also coincides with Kuroiro’s sneak attacks.

Kendou Itsuka - BORN THIS WAY

Born This Way has a motorbike rider aesthetic, reflecting Kendou’s love for motorcycles. The trigger for the Stand also resembles that of the activation method for Kendou’s Big Fist.

Kodai Yui - LITTLE FEET

Little Feet’s shrinking ability is akin to that of Kodai’s Size Quirk.

Komori Kinoko - CALIFORNIA KING BED

California King Bed seems to be harmless at first, but quickly turns dangerous the more it’s used on someone, just like Komori’s Mushroom spore ability.

Shiozaki Ibara - HERMIT PURPLE

Hermit Purple’s thorny vines are a vital factor on why I picked out this Stand, but I do also enjoy the fact this Stand seeks out the truth and brings it to light— much like Shiozaki herself.

Shishida Jurota - TUBULAR BELLS

Tubular Bells is able to register and track down the smell of an object or person. Shishida is shown to have superior senses, especially that of scent. The Stand in its active form are shaped like different animals, just like Shishida’s Beast Quirk.

Shoda Nirengeki - DIVER DOWN

Diver Down works similarly to that of Shoda’s Twin Impact with its ability to redirect and store attacks.

Tsunotori Pony - TUSK ACT 1

Both horns and nails are made of keratin, and both powers (Horn Cannon and Tusk ACT 1) allow their users to fire their respective body parts.

Tsuburaba Kosei - HARVEST

Not so much related to Tsuburaba’s Quirk as much as his general aesthetic. Harvest is adorable in small numbers, but deadly as a group, just like how Tsuburaba thrives with teamwork.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu - WHITE ALBUM

White Album’s ice armor is impervious to bullets and other penetrative substances, and also greatly increases the user’s physical strength. Although not exactly metal, it is a perfect defensive Stand for Tetsutetsu.

Tokage Setsuna - HIGHWAY STAR

Highway Star’s ability to segment itself into multiple thin pieces is a fun twist on Tokage’s Quirk. Its life-stealing ability can also allude to Tokage’s regenerative properties.

Fukidashi Manga - IN A SILENT WAY

In a Silent Way is similar to Echoes ACT 2, which Fukidashi’s Comic is compared to a lot. The only reason I didn’t go with ACT 2 was because it is touch-activated, and Comic does not have that requirement.

Honenuki Juzo - SPICE GIRL

Just like Honenuki’s Softening Quirk, Spice Girl is able to soften any material she touches.

Bondo Kojiro - RATT

Ratt is able to corrode both living and non-living objects into a gelatinous substance that sticks to itself. Though not an exact replica of Bondo’s Quirk, it was the closest canon provided.

Monoma Neito - SURFACE

Since there are no Stand copying abilities as of yet, the closest one was chosen— Surface’s ability to mimick another human being.

Yanagi Reiko - STAR PLATINUM

Star Platinum’s superior reflexes and time-stop could work as an upgrade for Yanagi’s Poltergeist.

Rin Hiryuu - DRAGON’S DREAM

‘Feng shui’ divination and its subsequent luck readings are highly popular concepts in China. This Stand also utilizes martial arts, which Rin seems to engage in judging by his hero costume.

BONUS: Kan Sekijirou / Vlad King - LOVE DELUXE

Love Deluxe is shown to be able to manipulate and restrain enemies using a bodily feature, similar to that of Vlad King’s Blood Control.

#mod rain #class 1b #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #crossover #trigger warnings:#body horror tw #ask to tag

5 notes · View notes

morris-magus-merry-miller · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Explosive Beginnings

The day began like any other on the road. I was of course upon my trusty steed, Nathaniel, as we made our way on what was to be our greatest venture yet. For you see, I had decided to undertake the most perilous journey across the desert to find the Undiscovered Realm.

Only one teeny tiny little problem stood in the way of myself and my dear companion Nathaniel…we were lost. Horribly, terribly…lost. Not a speck of sand in sight. In fact, quite a few trees instead. It makes sense, since the town we were approaching was called Dualwood.

Oh and there was a mountain. Hard to miss the mountain. Big old thing. The guard at the front of town called it “Mt Terminus”. It’s supposed to be some sort of big important proving point for adventurers. A big important dangerous deadly proving point I had no intention of going near, for you see I already had my own important dangerous and daring quest to venture forth upon, so I hardly needed to add a mountain to that. I was certainly not afraid. Just because the mountain is huge and high up. And supposedly there’s two-headed banshees and other such terrifying monstrosities lurking in wait for the next adventurer who willingly walks straight into their jaws of defeat. And the town guard make regular journeys to clean up the bodies they can safely retrieve…

…Note to self, maybe edit this part before the final draft…

Note to self 2: less fear, more Big Adventurer Gusto

Of course, flying off course wasn’t going to put a damper on my mood. Oh no. So I found the most lovely bakery in town, ordered some local delicacies which I absolutely whole heatedly suggest if, dear reader, you ever pass this way. Splendid woman, and her bear claws are to die for. Only maybe don’t word it like that, since this town takes that kind of terminology quite literally what with the giant killer mountain looming above them every moment of the day and all that.

With a full belly and a new spring in my step, I stepped I strode boldly into town to find someone with the know-how to point me in the direction of the nearest desert so that I may truly begin my grand adventure to the Undiscovered Realm.

And there, in the center of town, I met a man of great wisdom. He was clearly a storied and well-traveled adventurer himself, for he wore the most splendid dress. Colored in majestic bright hues of reds and oranges, with a grand hat to rival even mine atop his head. It even had not one, not two, but FOUR bells upon each of its grand little horn-like protrusions. He was granting his wisdom in the form of riddles that I didn’t much understand. “Urgathoa? I hardly knew her!” Why and how would one know the Goddess of Undeath? Unless he was himself a zombie…he didn’t look it but you never know these days…

My ramblings aside! I spoke with the wise gentleman, asking him if he knew where the nearest desert is. He seemed to be under the impression I was sent by some guild or another. Perhaps, recognizing my adventuring gear, he believed me to be from the same adventurers’ guild as he? But alas, I am very much a lone wolf upon this adventure, taking to the road with none but Nathaniel for company. It’s a lonely life, especially since Nathaniel can only be summoned for about six hours at a time. But that is the lot in life of an adventurer, and so it is my burden to bear until I have reached my grand journey’s end.

Anyways, the wise man of many bells pointed me in the direction of a nearby temple. There he believed the learned clerics and holy travelers who pass through may be able to grant me guidance in my travels, and return me to my rightful path to the desert, and the mysterious land that lies within it.

Within the Temple (mysteriously named “The Temple” and even more mysteriously with a sign out front that said, and I quote, “‘Clerical’ services available”. How ridiculous is that? Nobody will believe you’re providing clerical services if you put it in quotation marks as though it is a front for something!)

Author’s note: Oh my Shelyn I think it was a front for something.

Within the Temple, I met with a grand group of lovely adventurers. There was Miss Candy, a bright and cheery human chef who also on an unrelated note looks like she could break me in half. Snap me like a twig. Probably with just her legs.

Oh dear this is starting to sound like a sex thing. Note to self, do not ever describe it like that again.

There was Miss Candy, a bright and cheery human chef with a love of pink and a surprising talent for kicking things to death. There was Sir Vigo, a mighty and powerful goblin wizard with a knack for fire and animals. Strange combination to be sure, but it works for him. Speaking of animals, there was also Issac, a druid half-orc who is so tall I have not actually gotten a good look at his face. It’s just way up there in the sky somewhere. But of arguably greater import, there was his companion, a bear named Peanut. And I do mean a bear. A literal black bear, just hanging around inside the temple, gentle as a dog. He and Vigo had a rousing conversation, although I know not what about as I cannot speak bear myself, but it would seem the magics of the universe granted Vigo such an ability. Where was I…? Oh, yes. There was also John Smith, a human many years my senior who I suspect has lived a very storied life, although he has not let on just what that story is. He said some rather off-color things in our first meeting, but I do believe there is more to this gentleman than meets the eye. (Not that I can easily meet his eye either, while he is not so tall as Issac, he is a human which generally means ‘much taller than even a really tall halfling’, and I am not a ‘really tall halfling’. I am ‘a very medium halfling’)

Here we met one Cleric Ringwald. Although the more she said, the more it seemed like cleric was an overstatement. She said she worshiped something called “The Creator”, and that the only magic she could do were some simple tricks like magic missile…which looking back, I don’t believe is even a divine spell! Regardless, she told us of a rat problem they were having, and since we were all clearly of the adventuring variety, she wanted to offer us some money and five magic stones to clear the rats out. Only it turned out quite quickly that there weren’t REALLY rats in the basement. Oh, no. When pressed about some rather odd choices in her inflection, she admitted that the creature in the bowls of the temple was a mass of slime, gore, limbs, eyes, and mouths.

For those familiar with earlier works in the M Merry-Miller collection, you may recognize such a description. In Night of the Hallowed Moon, the brave sorceress Emilia faced off against a similar such creature. A gibbering mouther. Disgusting creature in person, I must say. Its sounds alone were enough to make me wish I had not eaten just before hand.

We made our preparations. The grand team of newly acquainted adventurers burst forth into the room, where the beast awaited its demise. As a mysterious fog began to fill the room, the adventurers rushed forward, ready for what was to come.

The fog was, by the way, an ingenious ploy by dear John, who used it as a means to protect us all from the creature’s attacks. Unfortunately it also meant that hitting the creature was a bit more difficult—the fog was, after all, quite difficult for us to see through as well. But for all I know he may well have saved Miss Candy’s life, as the creature tried and failed to bite at her a number of times.

Knowing from past research that this creature would not be affected by my magical talent, I went for the next best thing. A crossbow. With a steady breath despite the (rather cigarette smelling if I’m being honest) smoke, I took aim, and infused my bolt with a nice little punch of my arcane magics. I fired with a flourish, and while I feared from the fog and the creature’s writhing that it would not strike, it struck true, sticking into one of the creature’s many eyes. There was blood everywhere. It was horrific, quite frankly.

Fortunately, Vigo used that moment to slip in closer to the writhing monstrosity. With a shout of some clever words (note to self: think of clever one-liner since he didn’t say any at the time), the feared and powerful wizard evaporated half of the creature’s body with a single lightning strike.

And this is when things started to get out of hand.

As my gallant companions went to check on a hole in the floor that seemed to be how the wicked beast had entered this fair establishment, there was a commotion outside. Myself, John, and Candy were nearest the door at the time and went to investigate. We found Cleric Ringwald packing in a frenzy within her surveillance room. She tossed some coin to her acolyte Amelia (a skittish elven woman who had apparently directed some of the other adventurers to this location) and told her to get out of town.

Ringwald turned to us when we entered and told us the same, to get far away from here. She tossed us the magic stones she had promised as payment, and said that ‘if we survived’ she would pay more for further services if we met her in Port Town. Then she cast some rather powerful magic on us which made each of us feel revitalized, and she disappeared in a flash of awe inspiring arcane might the likes of which I had never seen.

But oh, I was about to see so much more, dear reader.

You see, I mentioned we were in a surveillance room, yes? By that I mean a room with a number of scrying mirrors which all permanently showed different sections of The Temple. And into the front room stepped a man. I say a man loosely. There was something off about him. He looked like a man, yes. A man with black hair, purple eyes, and robes depicting the butterfly of Desna—which my companions later revealed was a glamour, for it actually depicted a dragonfly symbol of some unknown origin. The reason I question if he was truly a man in the traditional sense was a strange segmentation in his hands at the joints. At first glance it could be mistaken for scars, as one of my companions later stated. However something about them was off. It was less a scar in the skin and more actual barely noticeable separate segments. While my genre of choice is not science fiction, I have read my fair share, and it brought to mind stories I had read in the past of humans created from technology and steel rather than flesh and blood. I know, I know, it sounds crazy. The closest thing we have to such a thing are golems, and they are never so realistic to be mistaken for a living breathing creature. How could such a being truly exist? Quite frankly, dear reader, I know not. But I do know his power was beyond the natural order. We were about to see that first hand.

The man walked into The Temple’s entry, calling out to Ringwald. He just wanted to talk. Don’t make this harder than it needed to be. She had forced his hand. He began scattering orbs about, while humming a tune I’m unfamiliar with. John tugged at Candy’s sleeve and insisted we had to go. Now.

“Why?”

“Those are delayed fireball charges. He’s about to bring this entire place down!”

We ran, making a beeline for the hole in the basement, which we hoped would lead to safety—or at least shelter from the explosion that was to follow.

Candy quite kindly carried me, Peanut, and Vigo with her much faster legs. We leapt down the hole, and followed a tunnel that led to a ladder up. Looking back, that’s rather strange. I wonder if someone planted that gibbering mouther in the first place. But at the time we were far too busy running for our lives to think of such things. Candy practically flew up the ladder, along with John who was in a mad dash to get back to the stables. It would seem he had paid a stable hand to watch over his daughter while he was in town buying supplies, and he needed to get to her in case the explosion reached that far. Once we made it back above ground Vigo, Issac, and Peanut went with John to check on the stables, as Vigo’s trusty mount Gordon the Ram was stabled there as well.

This left myself and Candy to see when the mysterious dragonfly man descended from the exploding Temple and to the center of town. A storm had whipped up, with a fury of thunder and lightning positively cracking open the sky—but no rain to join it.

The man was chanting in tones that I recognized as Celestial, but I am unfortunately not well versed in that language. However it would seem John was. Over the magical stones his voice spoke to the rest of us, and he told us that the man was about to do something terrible to the entire town, and to get out of there.

Candy had other ideas.

With me still upon her back, she ran at the villain. She leapt forward, posed to kick him and interrupt whatever terrible spell he was weaving.

The storm grew more violent, the clouds swirling and turning an unnatural pink hue. Then everything went black.

And then we woke up, on the ground before an empty town square. It was dark and silent. The stars were above us in a clear night sky, but the stars didn’t twinkle. Birds and butterflies were frozen in place in the air. There was no breeze, and the grass beneath our feet remained static with each footfall, frozen into whatever shape our feet pressed it into. The people in town were equally frozen. Not a breath, not a blink between them. Candy and I were the only ones in sight still moving.

We made for the stables, where we knew our fellow adventurers had gone. There, they were moving as well. But John’s daughter was not: frozen in a moment of fear, with the stablehand shielding the young child from harm, equally frozen. Somehow Vigo’s ram Gordon was fine, still moving and ‘baa’ing as a ram should.

We tried to brainstorm why we were able to escape the effects of this spell, which the more magically inclined members of our group identified as a potent mixture of a Stasis spell on a massive scale and Miracle—the most powerful of powerful divine magics. The best we would think of was that whatever spell Ringwald had cast upon us had also protected us from the spell that had otherwise pulled an entire village out of the natural flow of time.

As if to prove our theory, Ringwald’s acolyte Amelia pulled herself limping from the nearby rubble of the Temple, the only other person we’d seen in town left unaffected besides ourselves. She needed a moment to catch her breath, so we continued to brainstorm while she did.

Vigo wanted to climb Mt Terminus, believing the treasure at the top would be necessary to make us powerful enough to face the monster who had done this. Issac was in disagreement—he’d been living in this town for months, and had seen first-hand how deadly that trip is. According to him only one single group of adventurers had ever reached the top and lived to tell the tale, and they were the best of the best. Our inability to face this monstrous man was proof enough that we would die upon the peaks of the mountain long before we reached the treasure—and with us, all knowledge of what had happened in town. The rest of our band of adventurers believed that tracking down Cleric Ringwald would be the ideal next step. She seemed to have some mysteriously powerful magic of her own, and a history with this individual. Vigo wasn’t happy with this plan, as it might be putting us right back into the line of sight of the man whose magic broke the natural order.

Issac was finally able to talk Vigo into it, promising to join him on venturing to the top of the mountain after we got Ringwald and unfroze the town. None of us had any intention of facing this man again if we could help it—except for possibly John, who sounded rather keen on punching him in the face. I can’t blame him, his daughter is on the line after all. I can think of a few faces I find rather punchable myself that would probably come back to bite me afterwards. But that’s neither here nor there.

Once it was agreed we would head to Port Town to find the cleric who may or may not really be a cleric, who has some connection to the man who may or may not really be a man, Amelia asked to tag along since she had nowhere else to go. We happily agreed. While we prepared to set out, Amelia showed us how to use the magic stones—called the Stones of Far Speech—which we could use to talk to each other from a great distance, as John had done when trying to warn us about the dragonfly man’s spell.

On our way out of town I summoned Nathaniel, ready to head back out onto the open road—this time with a number of companions and a new destination in sight. It wasn’t quite the adventure I’d been looking for, but it appears adventure found me none-the-less. And really, isn’t that what being a daring adventurer is all about?

(note to self: you used ‘adventure’ 3 times in 2 sentences, find some synonyms before the final draft)

#entry #pathfinder #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder campaign #d&d campaign #a totally normal horse

3 notes · View notes

rukafais · 6 years ago

Text

ascension

The Wyrm dies. The Pale King lives, and breathes, and hungers.

cw: violence, mild-moderate gore (depending on tolerance), death, the pale king eats sentient bugs and doesn’t care

[ao3 mirror]

He does not know how long he spends crafting his own shell, the doll that will hold the vast depths of his consciousness. Time is irrelevant to someone as old as him. He has sat and watched kingdoms rise and fall, in his long, slow travels. He has seen endless sunrises and endless sunsets. He has seen centuries passing in the slow beat of a heart. Nothing has ever been able to hold his devouring, infinite curiosity for long. The world is small and banal and grey.

(He feels his body dying, feels the signals that mean the end of his life is close. But death is simply transformation, one form being changed for another.

He expects his second life to be more of that same banality.)

He carves it with mechanical precision. A crown that mirrors the mouth he will lose. Chitin as white and pristine as the form he will shed. Joints and segments assembled with delicate care to make it look like the bugs that scurry to and fro under his ancient eye, but not quite; something new, something unique.

Something fit for godhood.

As his own organs fail, he crafts and places, with painstaking care, new and smaller ones. (This shell will bleed, and breathe; it will have all the things that living bugs have, but it will stand apart from them. It will never fall as they do, because in truth its core, its heart, is his own unending will.) As his body begins to decay, he makes the last touches on the body that is waiting to be born. (Ash flakes from his inert form, already falling. Already beginning to cover the place he has chosen to die.)

He looks it over, infinitely patient, to make certain there are no flaws or cracks in his design.

The darkness of death gnaws and claws at the edges of his mind, unraveling it little by little; he is not afraid, because he does not know what it means to fear, what it means to be mortal, what it means to die.

The Wyrm dies. Its carcass rots, slowly, and the world is smaller for losing it.

What is born from its remains has no name, and an ancient mind, and shines painful and bright like a star fallen to earth.

Life is faster here, measured in the space of breath, the space of heartbeat. He wanders among his own ash, content to observe from a distance, until he finds himself with a strange weakness, an odd sensation.

A wyrm does not need to eat much. They are creatures impossibly large, impossibly slow, more like landmarks than living beings. They simply exist. But hunger had seized him, now and then, in the passage of time - and he had consumed what was in front of him. He had not bothered to catalogue taste or texture, or even what it was that he had eaten.

(Scarlet fire illuminates the ruin of a land devoured, far to the south, where his journey began.)

He finds himself hungry, but he does not know what bugs eat to sate themselves, so he tries what he can. Rocks and plants are acceptable - they are broken down by efficient processes, far beyond the level of any imperfectly created being - but his body craves something else.

Finally, he turns his gaze to the mindless creatures that fly and crawl, that he had dismissed as being below his attentions. Prey, something in him says.

They are so easy to kill.

He punctures soft abdomens and snaps thin necks with deadly precision; once he understands their patterns, their ways of running or hiding or foolishly attacking, they are no challenge to him at all.

Once he is bored of killing them, he begins to catch them. Fascinated with how they squirm to get away from him, making their strange small sounds, he takes them to pieces over and over until his curiosity is satisfied. Legs and wings and scattered parts litter the ground, and their fluids are dark stains against the stark whiteness of his shell.

He piles up the bodies, devoid of movement or life. He eats until he feels hunger subside, and looks at the remains with nothing more than faint disapproval. So inefficient, so distasteful. So messy. But it will do.

While he cleans himself, he hears the sound of something new. Something cautious to approach. So he sits, still as a statue, barely breathing, and waits.

(He already sees them as prey. He already sees them as beneath him.

That will not change.)

This one has a voice - not like the chittering, squeaking things. It speaks, and forms words. When he reaches out and seizes it, it struggles. It, too, is mindless in its own way, but in a different way. It has a spark, a light inside, dancing in its eyes.

He lets it speak until it runs out of words. He dismantles it without care for its sudden noise, until it stops moving.

An impulse comes over him - from the shell and not from the mind that pilots it - and he extends still-stained mouthparts and bites into the limp body. It is still warm. He takes another bite, and another, and another, until bright blood spills from broken chitin. It glows with light.

The light is not his. It is foreign. Different. It burns hot and bright.

But he wonders if that light could be replaced.

The gears of his mind spin in furious thought as he devours his prey. (He thinks so much better, now that he’s eaten. A machine must be oiled; so too, the body must be fed. A lesson learned, if a tedious one.)

He finishes his meal.

In the mess and viscera of the dead, he receives his first taste of divinity, and hungers for more.

He remembers gods, of course. How could he not? An old, slow mind has little to do but dream, to observe the few sparks of light that are capable of ensaring his attention.

A blinding-bright and singing sun; an endless, dark flame; the rolling winds and storms that thunder across dreams of empty plains. Water that lives and shines in verdant green. And more. Endless gods and endless lives.

They thrive with their worshippers; there is devotion. There is power.

The ingredients are so, so simple. Find simple bugs and give them a land to live, a beacon to follow. In return, they are devoted servants, and their belief becomes strength.

One bug alone, simple and barely capable of thought, is still weak. Lulled into obedience by that brightly-burning sun. But there are more - there must be more - or she would not be as powerful as he remembers her to be.

He watches for more bugs - the ones with that light inside, that potential for more. He is careful to hide among his death, so his white carapace will blend in, because they are more cautious about danger than the squirming bugs and beasts driven by instinct alone and nothing else.

(He learns, too, to devour them until no scrap remains, so the bodies cannot be found. They save their dead, the empty shells with no spark inside, for a reason he does not comprehend. The living bugs place flowers, or decorations. They carry away the bodies. They do not come again.)

He catches them and listens to their babbling, absorbing the language. Sound falls into his head like rain into an empty well, filling it until he can craft the words himself, until he can comprehend them.

He is making himself new. He is making himself like one of them, until he can reveal himself to not be one of them at all. A predator, a mimic, an old soul with centuries of thought and cunning inside a new and pale shell that seems weak as prey.

He thinks faster and moves faster than he has ever had to in this new existence, fighting against time, learning, learning, always learning. A perfect machine, every gear and every part in place, constructing a perfect camouflage.

It is infuriating, frustrating, thrilling. It is nothing like he thought it would be. It is a life so different from what he was.

He practices the words until they sound right. Then, with the patience of a hunter laying a trap, he waits.

The prey approaches.

“Help me,” he rasps, soft and feeble. (His voice is soft only because he has not practiced the words too much, because it is beneficial for him to sound soft and clumsy and helpless, to stumble and fall.)

They hesitate, for a moment, and then they offer him a hand. Acceptance. Curiosity. All things he can use.

Good.

He takes it, and allows them to pull him to his feet, and follows them into the dark.

Some day, this will all be his. But the weakness, the softness, comes first. The pretending.

(Already, the darkness in their eyes reflects his light, and not hers.)

The beginning of her end is here.

#hollow knight #togetherslapping words #pale king

136 notes · View notes

pocketseizure · 7 years ago

Text

The Price of Wisdom, Chapter 5

In the Interstices of History

Powerful decisions and fierce promises are made in quiet moments.

Chapter 5/6 ☆ 2,700 words ☆ Also on AO3 ☆ Cover Illustration

* * * * *

Zelda gasped and opened her eyes, and she was back in her own time. Heavy purple clouds swirled across the sky, and flecks of red ash flickered through the air. The hideous severity of the disaster that had befallen Hyrule infused every aspect of her world, and once again she was alone.

Or perhaps she wasn't alone. The Guardian gazed at her intently from its perch on the castle wall, and a bulbous orange eye had sprouted from the thick string of ooze that caught her as she fell. She and the eye watched each other as the slime affixed itself to the stones of the wall, its mass pulsing and shuddering in a way Zelda couldn't help but find repulsive. A discolored bruise from the caustic burn of its touch twined around her arm like a bracelet. She shuddered with distaste.

Ganon was the corrupted code animating the Guardians, and Ganon was the source of the black putrescence that roiled and surged through the cracks of the once-solid rock of the castle. Ganon was the shadow that had murdered the Champions in the Divine Beasts, and Ganon was the formless power that had decimated her city and turned her people into refugees. Ganon was the blind malice that had almost succeeded in killing her chosen knight and dearest friend, and she hated it with all her heart.

If her visions were true, then Ganon was once a man, and he was here in this castle. Zelda didn't care how he had done this, and she didn't care why. She didn't care what sort of person he was, and she didn't care if he was right to have attacked her kingdom. She would find him, and she would destroy whatever he had become.

Zelda had already deduced that the source of the black goo was somewhere below the castle, but her intuition directed her to her study in the west tower. She recalled Urbosa telling her about how the Calamity had once come to Hyrule in the form of one of the rare Gerudo males, and she wanted to consult a book that she vaguely remembered containing information about this legend. Anything she could learn had the potential to become valuable ammunition against Ganon.

Without sparing any further attention to the lurking Guardian or the clinging slime, Zelda walked across the yard with brisk strides. She could feel the weight of the eyes watching her from all around the castle walls and ramparts, but she refused to let it bother her. The skin on her arm felt unspeakably dirty from the touch of the dark mucous, and her ankle still hurt where she had twisted it. The image of the horrible wounds on Link's body still refused to vanish from her mind, and she was still afraid. If she could see and name this thing that had taken everything from her, however, then she could fight it.

Zelda entered the castle, which was deathly still and quiet. There were no signs of fighting, just weapons that had been abandoned as their wielders fled. It was eerie that not a single soul remained behind, that no one was bold enough – or infirm enough – to stay in the castle. There were no Moblins or Bokoblins prowling through the corridors or celebrating in the halls, and even the clinging black slime was scarce in the interior of the center of the castle. It was as if time had stopped here.

When Zelda re-emerged on the upper level, she could no longer see beyond the haze of smoke that surrounded the castle. The outside air was heavy and dry, and it tasted sour. As she scanned the lower roads and yards, searching for any sign of life, the lines and angles of the architecture seemed to twist and distort at the edges of her sight. It was like a scene from a nightmare.

She shook her head and continued to the tower where her quarters were located, her footfalls strangely muted as she climbed the stone steps. When she passed her bedroom, she briefly considered changing out of her filthy clothing, but something stopped her. She hated her ceremonial dress, and she knew it was superstitious nonsense to think it would protect her, but it seemed disrespectful to discard it after it had already carried her this far. She resolved to change her clothes on her way back down, but first she wanted to visit her study.

As Zelda continued climbing, she remembered a conversation she had with Urbosa after she'd failed to awaken her abilities while praying at the Spring of Power. What a waste it had been to travel deep into distant Akkala and venture down into the crevasse housing the shrine only to emerge with nothing to show for it. The journey alone should have been proof to the goddess that she was worthy, but there had been nothing waiting for her in the sacred spring, only hours standing alone in the dark water as her body gradually became so cold that she felt like a block of ice that could shatter at any moment.

After the long and silent trip back to the castle, Zelda confessed to Urbosa that she had hoped the Spring of Power would respond to her desire for strength, which was never far from her heart and mind. She wanted to be strong, and she needed to be powerful. Urbosa had been kind, as she always was, and told her that not everyone needs to be strong. Zelda resented her then, thinking that only someone who has been powerful her entire life could feel comfortable uttering such a vacuous platitude.

When she arrived at her study at the top of the tower, Zelda went straight to one of the bookcases lining the walls. She knew exactly where to find the book she wanted, for nothing in the room had been disturbed. Were it not for the black clouds and red sparks twisting through the sky on the other side of the windowpanes, it would be as if nothing had changed.

Zelda had always come into this room with a mixture of anxiety and determination, but now that her work had finally found its purpose she felt almost serene. She knelt on the floor to retrieve a book from the second-to-lowest shelf, where it had been placed above the dust yet below the light. The leather-bound volume was at least two hundred years old, but there were many books in the main library that were far older, and so Zelda had felt little guilt in stealing it away for her own use. When she was younger she had enjoyed looking at the illustrations, even though she found the archaic language almost impossible to decipher.

Her fingers found what she was looking for immediately. Monopolizing an entire page near the beginning of the book was a print depicting a dark and inhuman shadow positioned between a red sky and a golden ocean of sand. Zelda could now read the text that accompanied this terrible image, which told her that once, far back in the mists of time when Hyrule had only barely been established, it was almost destroyed by a man from the desert, a violent and merciless warlord whose evil influence spread like an endless cloud of toxic smoke over the green fields of the kingdom. He was fire and he was death, and his name was Ganondorf. Although he was defeated by a wise princess and her brave knight, his hatred was eternal, and one day he would escape from his prison in the Sacred Realm to finish what he had started.

Zelda tapped her finger on the words "escape from his prison." That was the key, it must be. Zelda didn't know if the "Ganondorf" mentioned in the legend was the Gerudo male she had seen in her visions or someone from long before that man was ever born, but "Ganon" returned because it had not been defeated, only trapped, and its prison was somewhere below Hyrule Castle. Imprisoning it was not enough. Whatever – or whoever – it was, it wanted her to find it and set it free, and she had a strong suspicion that she would need to release it in order for it to be properly destroyed.

An oleaginous squelching caught her attention, and Zelda looked up at one of the tower windows. It did not surprise her to see that it was rimmed with black ooze. "Fine," she muttered, rising to her feet. She went to the window and flung it open, letting in a cloud of ash and sparks. The slime did not burst into the room but merely began dripping down the windowsill. Zelda hesitated but then extended her hand. She touched her fingertips to the substance, grimacing at the burn but refusing to pull away. She began stroking it gently, just as Link had once taught her to soothe a horse.

"I'm here," she said, closing her eyes. "Show me what you need me to see."

The sensation of displacement that followed was mild, and Zelda was not afraid to open her eyes when it passed. When she did, she saw that she was still at the window, which was open to allow in a warm summer breeze. The sun was setting, and the rich hues staining the western sky were magnificent. Beyond the castle walls stretched a glorious and fantastic city of towers and glass that was every bit as awe-inspiring as the Gerudo city had been, but Zelda knew that this was not what she was intended to witness. She turned to face the interior of the room and gasped in surprise.

There was a bed in the corner, and tangled in its sheets were the Gerudo man who had haunted her visions and the Hylian princess whose face she shared. They were both completely naked, and their hair was unbound. The princess sat with her back to the man, who was smiling as he combed her hair with a silver brush.

"Sometimes I wonder if there even is a Calamity," the princess said softly, breaking the silence.

Ganondorf did not respond immediately. Instead he set the brush down and began dividing the princess's hair into segments.

"I assure you that there is a Calamity," he finally replied. "Or at least there will be one when those war machines start moving."

"It's awful, isn't it," the princess said, bowing her head and looking down at her hands as she twisted her fingers in agitation. "At first I didn't want to believe you, but now I can't see it any other way."

"And it's terrible that I didn't see it before now," she continued. "Vah Ruta has the power to completely disrupt the ecosystem of the Zora territories. Vah Naboris creates sandstorms, and Vah Medoh can knock the Rito from the sky. And even the Gorons, who by all rights should be invincible, have reason to fear Vah Rudania. Even if there were a Calamity staring us right in the face, surely the tribes must be able to see the Divine Beasts for the threat that they are."

"It's territorial expansion, plain and clear," Ganondorf muttered. The gentleness of his hands in the princess's hair belied the bitter edge of his words. "And I, fool that I am, made it possible. The king will use those machines to take the cities of the outlying tribes, but he won't stop there. All of Hyrule will suffer, and when the Calamity comes no one will bear more blame than I do."

At this, the princess smiled sadly and shook her head. "How selfish of you, Ganon, to hog all the responsibility to yourself. I think I contributed a fair amount, wouldn't you agree? Even as the weapons of the Divine Beasts were installed and tested, I was smiling and assuring people that this technology would save us all. When the attacks begin, it will be me on the front lines, still smiling, still praying for the glory of Hyrule."

"You know what we need to do," Ganondorf replied, twisting Zelda's pleated hair above her head in a bun.

"Who will become the Calamity, then?" Zelda asked him, picking up a small hand mirror to admire herself. "Shall it be me, or will you do the honors?"

Ganondorf settled his chin on her shoulder so that his face was reflected next to hers in the mirror. "I think it should be me," he said. He smiled, bearing his teeth. "I've got the face for it, and we both know that I'm better at controlling those things than you are. I wrote most of the code, after all."

"You did not," Zelda countered, turning and batting at him playfully. He caught her hands in his fists, and they pretended to struggle with each other as she continued speaking, sending light punches in his direction to emphasize her words. "I wrote the foundation of that code, and you only came in later. As a junior programmer, no less. You may have debugged and refined a few things, but you were only building on what I created."

"And who created the Guardians, then?"

"You worked off of my designs."

"Whatever you say, Your Highness," Ganondorf replied, laughing. "But you know, sometimes I wonder how you could have ever come up with such things. What sort of princess spends her childhood developing battalions of mechanical soldiers?"

"Don't all princesses dream of battle and conquest?"

"I can only imagine so."

"If we survive this, and if I ever become queen..."

"When you become queen," Ganondorf corrected her.

"When I become queen, then, I swear I will demilitarize Hyrule. If I don't, those machines will be the end of us. I don't care about the legends, and I don't care what may have happened in the past. I just want this kingdom to be peaceful. I'm going to outlaw that technology if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to decommission it and bury it so far under the ground that it will be centuries before anyone finds it again."

"Please, Zelda," Ganondorf murmured, stroking her cheek with his thumb, "do this thing. Do it in my place. Do it for me."

The princess looked away from him, and Zelda could see tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "You know," she said softly, "for the longest time I thought that you came to this kingdom with evil intentions. I watched you rise, and I saw how much you wanted power. And before you came no one else had even dreamed that it would be possible to make machines like this. I thought that, when you built those things, you might turn them against us. It's ironic, isn't it? That now I'm the one who wants this to happen."

Ganondorf continued to caress the princess's face and neck silently for several moments, but then he spoke. "You weren't wrong," he said. "Now that we're no longer keeping secrets from each other, you might as well know that I thought about it. When I fled from the Gerudo, I didn't care anything about Hyrule. The only thing that mattered to me was that this country was far away from my own. But in time I came to love this land – and to hate it. I thought the Hylians were a weak and jealous people whose only strength lay in enslaving others. How could you squander the riches of the land you took for granted? Surely this kingdom could be better managed by someone who appreciated it and saw it for what it was..."

Ganondorf's words trailed off as he placed his hands on the princess's shoulders and bowed his head so that his forehead met hers. She kissed him lightly and stroked the ropy muscles of his arms.

"I thought about it," he whispered, so quietly that Zelda almost couldn't hear him. "I've been thinking about it for so long that I know exactly how it can be done."

"I sometimes feel that the goddesses are laughing at us. It must amuse them to watch us while we struggle to escape our fate," the princess responded, twining her fingers through Ganondorf's hair. "But we had a good thing while it lasted, didn't we?"

"Please talk to Link," Ganondorf said. "Make sure he knows. Make sure he's ready to fight me."

The princess looked away from him, but she nodded.

"Are you ready to fight me?" he asked.

The princess looked up at him, her tears trailing wet lines down her face. She smiled. "I was born ready to fight you."

( Chapter Six )

#Zelgan #Breath of the Wild #Princess Zelda #Ganondorf #Calamity Ganon #Zelda fic #my fic #The Price of Wisdom

8 notes · View notes

typical-author · 6 years ago

Text

Original Horror : The Lycaon Segment

Before There Was Time

Chapter 1 : The Punishment

Before I start off I want to make myself clear cause I will only say this once. I am Lycaon, the first werewolf, king of Pelasgia, or as you know it, Arcadia. I am an immortal among men. My Tales are from a time before there was light. Before the Angels were revoked and only some walked the land.

I had many women in my life and the reproduction of our kind was many more then that of a human these days. In my life I have had fifty sons, all respected and loved by me. My Father, Pelasgus, often worshipped and loved the Greek gods. His favorite however was Zeus, the god of thunder.

The gods were vengeful and made war with themselves. Curses were brought to man and so were testaments of sin. All around my kingdom were beasts that were once human but were punished by the gods… especially punished by Zeus.

While the gods tried to find the perfect being the made many creatures. These were beings made out of the image of the gods themselves. This they stuck with and some believed that my father, Pelasgus, was the first being to walk the earth as a man.

Many creatures lived on the planet. All made by the gods ranging from A. Athos to T. Typhoeus. All creatures had good quantities of traits, from swimming creatures that were part fish, to giants who could shake the land.

Although many people wish they were one of these creatures. They forget the fact that they are limited to certain aspects of the world. Humans were able to do just about anything they set their minds on.

If one being was to argue with the gods, the punishment would be twisted and derange. Not only were people part beast by creation. If you upset one of the gods, they would take the most fowl parts of their creations and turn you into it. That wasn’t all, in drastic cases they would even harm your children and your people.

Plagues and sin were tools that would be placed on you. I, unlike my father, did not wish to show fear towards them. One being, named Ishtar served the gods and placed a curse called “Lycanthropy” over people. This would turn a human into an animal and will forever be damned. This Ishtar was very powerful in my land and I have seen the curse happen to many people.

I often questioned rather or not the gods were all powerful. I seemed to possess a will to test them. So I studied my fathers work and went after Zeus himself. I killed his people as well as mine. Then I sent them to him in threats that he was not all powerful as he liked to think he was.

As time went by I felt the sky and the lightning grow. The bodies of deceased people angered the lightning God. I was not afraid but indeed curious to see how powerful this lightning god was. I killed more and more people. As I did I thought to myself and told my children that I will prove the divine Greek god was nothing more then a sham.

Then one day, Zeus showed up. My children were young men and within minutes they were all struck by lightning killing them. I fell to my knees in displeasure and guilt that this was my fault. I rose up to fight the one who did this but did not know if it was me. I to this day blame myself for the death of my children. This haunts me, and if I didn’t get so obsessed with trying to prove the gods as shams it would have never happened.

I was known what would happen to me. I was going to be turned into a beast unless I did something to prove I am a worthy human being. I ran from my village as the gusts of wind and rain grew stronger. I slid down an old path of now nothing but mud. I ran through thorn trees and by caves.

I then tripped over a fallen tree and heard a great howl. This was not one to warn people that this was beast land. This was loud and as I looked up I seen a giant beast in the form of as wolf before me. I could tell in his eyes that he too once was a human. He had been twisted into a beast on some wronging that could have easily been forgiven. That is what I wanted now more then anything. I wanted forgiveness and I wanted my people and family to not be harmed anymore.

He could not speak no words to my understanding. He only motioned me to follow him and together me and wolf ran into the woods. I ran as fast as I could compared to this four legged animal. I could see the sky lighten up and the winds calming down. I leaped in my run and felt like flying with the momentum of my pace.

Then the wolf slowed down and we crept into a cave. Here I could tell that no lightning would ever get in. Quickly though the sky grew dark and rain followed. I knew that I could not live in this cave forever. Still I tried.

I made a fire with twigs I could find. My friend, the wolf, came with food from outside. I spent days in the dark waiting for the punishment to pass by me. I hoped that I could go free with knowledge not to test them no more. I even grew a nice friendship with the other wolves in the area. They came and too helped me survive. The rain provided me with plenty of water and I had much to eat.

The summer came and I still feared for my life. For the first time in a while I felt safer. Then the heat stroke began. I had very little air in the musty old cave and I was running out of water. The warmth of my wolf friend was starting to haunt me. I then began to take small moments outside the cave to test if I was forgiven.

Life fact seemed that I wasn’t. I began to head back to my kingdom to rule my people. I had good intensions and soon I hoped that the Lords would see it. As I went out of the woods I sensed something was very wrong. Then lightning came without any rain or storm clouds. In panic I was stunned still as a tree.

Before I knew it a bolt hit me and I was turned into a werewolf. I looked over to my wolf friend who has followed me to the village and for the first time I could understand him. He was punished by Ishtar and he was the first human to have ever taking beast form.

I went in defeat to follow my new family into the woods. As a went I lifted my legs to walk I felt a pain come over me like a lightning bolt hit me again. I can’t tell if it did or not but since that day I was able to take on human or wolf form. The first shape shifter.

I was punished by my people and cursed out of the land. So I spent years in the woods hunting for prey. I noticed that with two forms I had to eat twice as much. Each time I ate I would have to eat in wolf form and then human. It was like two beings in one.

From then on I associated with other werewolves who were not able to transform back into their former selves. I was the first one who could and I imagine this was the gods way of saying I was half forgiven.

Chapter 2 : Shape Shifting Wonders

Years as a wolf went by like century’s to a human. I would often switch into a man form to live amongst people. I however was followed by every wolf I had encountered. Nights would come where the people, from towns I lived in, grew frightened by the large packs howls.

With some people frightened, I was running out of places to live. The world was not as populated as it is today. I could hear the whispers of my sons in my dreams. They were telling me one was still alive. Every morning I did not know for certain if the dreams were true.

It wasn’t too long before I could look in a lake to see an aged man. Was it my destiny to die someday with this curse? Or was it my destiny to try and get rid of it. I set my mind to live as a human for the rest of my days. I will ignore the cursed full beasts forever.

Years I spent in villages ignoring the fowl animals that would follow with me. I was even once called a godsend because of the way they behaved towards me. Usually they acted in my time as warnings of curses. People of all types grew to understand that I was not a curse.

I would help build houses and temples for my fellow kind, both human and animal. I kept it secret when I would go out into the woods and feed the monsters food. This was my way of begging to not attack the fragile.

There was one wolf out of all of them that stuck out as my favorite. He was the one who greeted me when I was getting cursed by Zeus. I felt sorrow in his eyes and guilt for his wrongs. This was not a monster, but a repented, behaved animal. I named him Ian and I often would invite him in my home.

Year 13 came where I was not turned into a wolf form. I was an older, fairly rich man at best. I had strength and agility that most could not achieve. This allowed me to work harder and faster then the average Joe.

A night came on the 13th day of the 13th year. I was going to my bed to sleep when a fever hit me and my body began to cramp up. I had a slave in the other room that came in to check on me. She nursed me and sang sweet songs to me all night. Then the next day I couldn’t even walk. My body was cramped up in a paralysis state. That day something happened.

The animals which I took care of started attacking the village. I knew that they had sensed something wrong with me, I felt it. All I could hear during those days were screams from fragile creatures and growls from angry ones. These sounds haunt me to this day.

I heard a scratching at my door. My slave had run off and probably died from the raid. I was all alone and I felt like I was dying. The thump on the door would shake the house. Claws scratches could soon be seen as well as heard. The animal then got the door down and walked up to me.

It was Ian and he had a look of concern in his eyes. I heard his thoughts and I knew he came to help me out. The animal instinct in me was saying that I must turn into wolf form immediately. “I want to die a human” I screamed to him but I also knew that look in his eyes. It was the same look in my eyes when I looked in a pond. I was cursed and if I didn’t turn now I would forever be a monster.

I laid in bed with sweat beading down my face, or were they tears? Transforming was different this time. Instead of quickly becoming a wolf within a thought, I was slowly turning into different shapes.

Hair grew all over my body. My eyes grew bright green like a viscous creature. I grew the claws and teeth of a wolf but kept the hands and face of a human. It kept on hurting and the pain became so unbearable I felt my soul lift out of its body. For a second I felt liberated. Everything made sense and I was once again with my family. This good feeling quickly ended.

I found myself in the body of a wolf. A wolf being dragged by another wolf as animals from all over gathered around to see my paralyzed body. Slowly the each came with a piece of a fragile one. As I ate the body parts I couldn’t get the feeling out of my head that I lived and worked with these townspeople. Now what were they? They were a remedy for a monster.

Slowly I was able to lift myself up, barely able to walk on all fours after all these years of avoiding it. I looked around to see the pack of animals make their way to help. Some would crawl up beside me while others would take a nurturing act and lick me clean.

I felt ashamed being with the animals. I felt that I had been avoiding them for so long that I would not be accepted by them anymore. I was wrong. Ian started off by bringing more wolves around me. They all howled as the night was now in front of us. The people in the town were all dead.

I went on a few adventures with the animals. I would try every now and then to turn into human form but with no success. I knew that I had stayed human for too long and if I wished to exist as one “part time” that I would have to keep a balance of the two.

I then spent years as a wolf. Feeding on humans and other animals like a king. I grew quite a pack and many mystical creatures would beg for their lives to us. We didn’t care if they wanted to live or not in the end. Wolves who were once bottom feeders were now becoming feared.

I started to grow into an old proud wolf. Ian, who didn’t seem to age, would often come to me and invite me on hunts. We made a good team as we triumphant through all types of creatures.

Slowly during the years I felt like I could turn into a human again. It was then 13 years and 13 days that my being trapped as a wolf ended. I grew an attachment for being a wolf. I sometimes thought to myself when I seen a human that I would rather die as a wolf. I just felt like my years were over with.

At the night of the 13th year I turned into a human again by force. It was not painful but it did scare me when I looked into a pond. I found myself to be young again like I was when I was first struck by Zeus lightning.

If I could not age as a human, could I age as a wolf? Was there any way to die now that I am the way that I am? I transformed back into wolf form to discover that myself again new fresh and young.

So I did a few experiments. I cut my throat in human form then transformed into wolf quickly. My wolf form was unscratched and so I turned back to human expecting to die. Of course I didn’t and the cut was not there. It was looking as if I couldn’t die. ‘This could be very interesting’ I thought to myself.

The Birth of a Star

Chapter 1 : Angels Torn Apart

Everybody has a power, and every power can have a high and a low. Everything has a weakness and a strength. In my days the earth’s glow was the only means to see before there was light. Most creatures were nocturnal and traveled in groups. Armies were made but they only served to fight those who trespassed on their land.

I didn’t care anymore. I crossed all the lines. I would travel and fight armies. After each defeat in one form I would transform and continue to fight in another. Then came a great rush in the clouds. All creatures and kind stood still as the heavens gave a message.

No longer will the gods rule over the world, and the world as we knew it was going to change. After all we have lived for, we now faced a challenge where some of us will be forbidden to walk the land. We faced mortality which should have made us all tremble and vomit from fear. Instead we just continued to watch the rushing sky as the message was gave.

Each rush of cloud there was a white and a night sky that seemed to collide with each other. There was a war and we on earth were going to be tested to survive. At one moment half the sky was bright white and glowed upon the earth and the seas. The other half was dark as night and had rushes of rain, hail, and thunder.

When it was all over there was a dreadful pain in the earth. Angels descended from the heavens and down into the earth. Most had battle wounds and were now colored as the night. Some baring black wings as opposed to the white dove wings that were more common. Each one that entered the underworld caused the world to shift and ache.

Then like a sparkle of twilight but brighter then that of night came a star. It came from the peak of the galaxy and slowly came towards the world. With this we earned the power of light. Some, who were still in trance, approved of the light. Others like myself walked away and only seen how it blinded us.

Its said that at Satan’s fall he took one third of the angels with him. Some of the angels were willfully walking away from heaven. Some angels were with similar sin as Him and Satan couldn’t be fully revoked without others who committed the same sin to be cast out as well.

So it went on for years. Now tests were thrown in as the true God came to claim his domain. A box was sent to a woman named Pandora which held 7 powerful gods of sin. If opened they would rule over land and we would be cast out if our souls became too evil. If you want to know more I would suggest you study the Greek mythology.

Now that the world was changing, creatures started to battle for no particular reason. Magic was slowly leaving the world. I would hunt in the night as a wolf and sell my merchandise as human in the day. Another secret of shape shifting is if you get tired you can transform into your other form and be wide awake. I had many perks to my life that I always am grateful for to this day.

After years of watching so called bad angels fall from heaven and to the underworld it finally ended. An Angel came down to me. I knelled in human form and she asked me a simple question. It was so simple that I still do not know the correct answer. She asked me if I liked being in wolf form or human form better.

I thought hard and then finally replied, ‘I am better off staying as I am cause of a divine plan. I’m not certain what that plan is, rather good or bad, but even if its bad to me, I know that the plan is good to another. It may be fate, destiny, or coincidence but a plan that is divine only serves as a purpose that must happen. There is no wrong or no right, and even questioning it will do no harm to its objective. I am what I am, and even though I can change I wish only to stay the same. I wish to stay as planned. How I am, both wolf and man.’

The angel smiled, laid its hand on me and said as I wish. When it left, wolves were permitted to stay on the earth. Other creatures were also permitted to stay. The others however were forced to battle in the coliseum. This battle arena was made for the gods under the one true.

Before, we lived with the Greek gods as servers to power. The God came and forced the lower Greek gods to human form on earth. They were no special then that of a normal human… expect their souls. Their souls still beamed from them and had powers very alike the ones they had when they were spirits.

Hard times they had trained and grew up as the strongest beings to walk the earth. Their stories are all told in detailed books, so I will go into the crisis they ended with. That in which was a coliseum that was built for them to prove their strength. It was here where they would fight to the death.

During this time a special garden was made and named Eden. From here mankind was made and fell. They did not get eliminated from the earth but they were not giving immortality. Instead they breed and concurred the world. I stayed invisible to them as I felt a great fear to be known to them.

After a while the mortals appeared appealing to the Greek gods, and then the demi gods were born. They held great power and for every god and demi there was yet another star born into the galaxy. After a while when great humans lived a great life and died, when they went to heaven a star was also made for them.

I watched patiently as all this revolution happened. I never aged and I lived far beyond any other creature over time. Thousands of years I would fight wars and concur armies. I never unbalanced my two forms. Never did I hold back and try to live only one life. I kept my secret safe and if anyone spotted me transforming I would have to mutilate them.

I never had any kids and I never left a person bitten and live. If I knew that I could created more of my kind I think I would have done so earlier. During these days though I was into the hunt more then I was for the breeding. I collected hand made swords and other jewels for safe keeping. This allowed me to become rich in my later years.

That will be explained later though. I have seen the world through an immortals eyes. I still had my companion Ian who never left my side. The last of the ancient ones had died but the coliseum stayed active for many years. Hemit was the last man to fight in the coliseum before people changed their ways.

Its said that every now n then the gods of old come to earth to mate and watch over their loved ones. The darker gods however need to cheat the devil to even touch land.

I can’t imagine how it would be like to live under the earth. It seems to be a place with little room as dirt covers and surrounds you. It makes me think that all those fallen angels are just buried alive. Sometimes they bring the lake of fire to our land through volcanoes. This has destroyed towns, cities, and ruined many lives.

I wonder what had happened to make the angels fall from grace land to live in such a dark environment. Some in the later days say that Lucifer thought that he was higher then God and that is what the battle was about. I’m unsure, as I think it was a way to cripple and change the way we lived.

I walk towards the light this time. I am not nocturnal but I am still what is referred to now as a monster. If only people knew that where I came from, unicorns, fairies, and all the beautiful things a kid can dream of was real. Why would turning into a wolf be so much different?

Chapter 2 : The Calling of Devils

With sin upon the earth and mortals falling for temptation a war begun again for the souls of mankind. It was a war no one wanted to happen but it did. God and the Devil were playing strategy games with the mortals on earth. They would test and force humans to pick a side and depending on which side they pick God or the Devil would win that “Chess Piece”.

I had won the war against the Greek gods it seemed to me. They have been removed from the earth and now only live off the prayers of the mortals. They can only intervene if their holiness is being challenged. For now I will simply live life with the blessings of never fearing Zeus again.

God came to test me as the devil smiled in hell. I am sure the devil thought I would quickly turn down god. Instead I turned on the devil unaccepting of his gifts. I also walked from God towards the night. I was alone and self rightrous but it was better then getting into the middle of the war.

As I walked away God shined towards me but the devil often intervined. New angels were being born but at the same time other devils spawned as well. The world often changed when good was winning the war. Other times during darker years the devil with his demons became an absolute.

As I walked the lands god smited me to test my soul. He could see a change imprinted into me. He smited me and sent me through days of wrath. During the nights the devil came to me as well. God, understanding that I was cursed turned from me. Without any mercy or pause, the devil tried to feast upon my soul.

Many people were cast out of the heavens and the mortals were becoming evil. Each mortal had a choice to be an angel or devil. If they accepted the will of god they became immortal with wings to always fly upon the earth. If they accepted the devil they were sent to the place I was currently... the tortures of the damned.

The devil rose towards me trying to rule upon my head. My soul glared wilder and more powerful then before. The soul was my core, it was given to me by my father, and his father. In essense it was traced all the way back to Alpha. To give it up was to give up your existence.

As the devil wrapped around my soul I refused him. I kept my soul and even spoke out loud that I would not give it to him. He bit into it, adding traces of himself to me. My body was shifting from human to werewolf. In the burst I had the lords turn away from me. It seemed that I could not be aclaimed.

The Devil thought fowl of my blood. My soul gave leave to the creators. I was cast out by both sides and I did not care. In this way I became my own alpha, setting laws for my own kind. I was not bound by good nor evil. I was undetermined and left for no one.

As the evil people grew new devils were increasing. They would take the soul of a mortal and turn it inside out. This often cause the mortal to grow mad. They became abominations known as demons. They were wild and out of control. They would often possess powers adnormal to any other. They were true monsters and the devils feed from them.

Evil was so bad that the world was destoryed by it. God saw the devils increase and the demons to be too awful for the earth. He burried them into the hell. They were like acid to the natural way. In the end God forced the devil to consume the demons. That only made the devil stronger. Many people missed their families. There was no hope for those who became evil.

If all was to become evil there would be no life. There would eventually be no evil for this fact. In the end the battle between good and evil was set to always be in motion. Life would exist to be delivered to death. There was a balance to the new creation. I knew I was no longer a part of the war that my kind was extinct.

I preyed on the evil devils that lurked upon the earth. I hated the devils more for the battering they did to women, to men, and to animals. They lived as a cancer and no one really knows that, not all devils have horns.

Many would kill merciless. Others would feed endlessly. Some would not do a thing and relied on good to help them. Devils often took pride in their sins. They would also breed to make abominations. I laughed and joked saying "their father was evil, why see what their children would be?" The devils still kept everything they had without giving anything back. Still they looked at good with envy as there nature was death.

I had many of these traits myself. The greek were born from an evil man and were only blessed by the mothers. I knew abominations all too well. Every time I feast I would have talks to my victims asking why they do the things they did. They could not kill me, so I was dominate.

Several nights went by and I was tested by the devil again. God came in and I was forced between the two. As I struggled to survive I would often switch forms. This upset the devil that I was turning him down. It also upset God for my will to be alone. The devil set a curse on me. He made it so I was my own alpha. That I lost my ability to have a father. I had memories of him, but I could not feel him in me.

That is the time I died and fully became my own being. I still refused all gods and devils who wanted me. I walked the earth alone feeding to my needs. My soul felt lonely at first. It felt as though I had no birth. I can't even begin to understand it. The being as was before was not the one I was from now on. I was alone with only the wolves accepting me.

They seen me anew with no alpha. The way things were before they always looked at me as a child. They now bowed and worshipped me more. I like Ian, would lead them to food. I would lead them to live. I wish that I felt my father inside my soul. To refuse the gods is to refuse yourself. To not choice between them is to choice only yourself.

I relearned how to function as being cursed left me with no forgivness before me. I learned to move my arms and legs, I learned to walk, and to talk. Still I have been damned and now I wish I was more submissive but I am not.

Making A Family

Chapter 1 : A New Species

As the night sky passes towards the west the sun rises in the east. It seems harder for me to see the night rest at all these days. The sun seems to just push it away without cause or warning out of the sky. Still in the next evening it spawns back to rest the people and comfort them to sleep.

The same goes for me with this gift or curse. I walk amongst the humans changing back and forth from animal to man. Rapid changes happen in order for me to feed my darker werewolf side easier. When I see an easy prey I transform and feed upon their flesh. This gift of immortality and endless life comes with only one cost. I must take that from a human which I then use as my own.

As I march along the outskirts of a noble town I see a man with his wife. He held her hand and she smiled as they entered their home. I looked at my fellow wolf pack which knew of my new desire to expand my family. I did not know what curse I would give if I was to have a child. I did not know if a mortal woman could even bare a child from a man of darkness like yours truly.

So like always we stormed into the town and ripped the flesh off of the people of the land. They would stab us and we would heal, they would shoot us with arrows but we would not be stunned. So the spree began while I stormed throw town, I bit the arm off of my meal while digging into the flesh to eat the really good parts.

My meal had grown cold and fully dead. My pack was also full so we began to head out and into the woods. The word would travel about a savage beast about which kills the young ones and nobles. So we would travel to a new location hunting other less aggressive animals.

As we were leaving I seen the woman and man from earlier. They died holding hands as the rest of their body was mauled to pieces. I grew angry looking at my wolf friends. I did not provoke a fight I simply turned into a human and took the rings off of their fingers. Then I walked away with sadness in my eyes that I knew I may be alone forever.

I walked the land as years went by. I feel the wet moist earth below my feet as the rain hit’s the ground. The green grows fresh but as the rain goes away the land dries up leaving the green to die too. I’ve walked the deserts, the forests, the rocky mountains.

The earth was like a memory that would not fade away. Sometimes I would see tracks in the ground where I have already been in the area. I ran away for days, nights, until I burst into human form and decided to live life as a human for a while.

The people enjoyed me in my local estate. I worked harder then most men and grew speed that no one could match. Many of the women were charmed by me but I loved then not. I seemed to have once again forgotten about my curse of lycanthropy. Some nights I would reflect back on my years and how they were filled with me being a killer.

When I was done patching a roof for a blacksmith a woman passed me by the street. I grew flashes of her in different scenarios where she and I would be making love. I would also see her on a table with many people around her as she was giving birth. Then the vision went out with me killing the doctors and nurses that helped in the labor. I more dreamed of my child in my arms running away from town then it was a vision.

Still curiosity killed the cat but cat I was not. I walked up to the woman who was dressed very proper for her day. She turned at me thinking I was a mugger but when she caught my eye she was entranced to my will. It seemed the gods were in favor to my gift of having a child.

She did not know what to say at first so we spent days together talking of the stuff the town had accomplished with my help. She then told me I was a great man worth to have her hand. I was bedazzled with the fact that she too had felt as I when we first met and still unto this day.

We were with child for months afterwards. She did not know of my secret but every night I would go out and hunt for my dinner as a wolf and bring back food for my human wife as well. One night I was met with my old pack who gave a message stating that if I was to not make a child as wolf that the pack would come into the town and kill my village along with my new wife.

For a while I had though about it. I knew the day was coming where my lack of decision making would be the death of my new family. So I did what I had to do to protect my family. I ran into the woods taking off my clothes so I did not shed them when I transformed. I seen the pack and a woman wolf come up to me. I turned into a wolf and was forced to make love to her as the pack guarded the area from my escape and of other creatures coming to the area.

When the ritual was over I fled home taking my clothes back and getting dressed before the villagers seen me nude. Howls were heard as the beasts in the outskirts ruled me and had their way with me. I went to my human wife and held her in my arms unknowing if I should tell her what had happened. This was probably best to keep to myself.

So the weeks went by and on the 9th week of my incident with the werewolves my human wife was going into labor. The towns doctors and nurses all came into the house to make sure the baby was delivered properly. It was hard to see her go through so much pain but this was not my first child. I have had many children before I was cursed into lycanthropy. All of which I am sure are dead now.

When the head of the baby crowned out the doctors had worried faces and some were even thinking of deformity. I told them not to worry that the kid will be loved no matter what. The house laid under the full moon and in the back of my head I could hear the wolves in the outskirts celebrating the births of their children.

When the baby came out it was furred like a wolf but in the body of a human. The people in the room were ready to kill it before I shape shifted into a wolf and ripped them limb from limb. My wife was so shocked at what she had seen me do that I had no choice but to take the baby and run.

I ran up to the woods where I could sense the wolves. They too had delivered they’re young ones. I laid the baby down and turned in wolf form to hear what they had said. They did not have wolf like babies. Instead they had human skinned children all of them in which I was to take care of. I agreed only under one condition, and that was that they took care of the child I had brought with me. They agreed that the child was more wolf then human and could live off of the milk the she-wolf could give.

I had no idea what road I was heading down. All I knew is that I had 6 children who all seemed like perfect babies. Each day they reminded me of my old wife. I knew by now she was dead and the children was all I had left of her. Even though the children I had were not hers, they all gave me memories of her.

I am just a werewolf, Lycaon, king of Pelasgia, or as you know it, Arcadia.

Chapter 2 : A Call To Come Home

Each full moon was a nightmare as some of the children would shaped shift into wolves. I now owned my own town and had many servents. These people all had jobs taking care of myself and my animal pets. I kept the children secret from the servants but every full moon my doors would close. I had to feed them during those nights so I slayed a servant then fed my children the flesh.

People were growing corn, melons, and other orgainics. I was allowed to fully feed my human form to my hearts desire. As my servants died I would feed on them and let the werewolves who stayed loyal to me feed too. The child that was sent to the wolves to grow up lived in the outskirts. The wolves were sometimes rebelious but I was the one who determine who lives and who dies.

One night on a full moon, 2 of the kids turned into small wolves, 1 was born as a half wolf, another birthed another wolf, and another turned and did not age. The first two were normal in my wierd world. The other reminded me of the wolf child I sent to live with the wolves. I was surprised to see the child create the wolves. I could understand that the wolf was like a guardian. The other I did not know what to do.

Everytime the child would turn he would not age. Many years went by and the werewolves grew into young adults. Still this one child would not age. The two who fully turned into wolves were only able to during the full moon. Another was the same, while the one who made the wolf guardian was different.

The wolf guardian stayed active year round. Each time the kid wanted to he could go and pet the wolf and disappear into it. It was like the child and the wolf was one being. They could live for years and if they wanted they could return to any age. As long as the wolf and the child was not killed at the same time, they were immortal.

Two kids would turn into full wolf form every full moon. When they were young teens they lost the ability to turn at will. It seems like the full moon was the turning point so I studied the moon. Time went by and my children were growing up older and older. It came time when they would try to turn a human.

Rather it be for friendship or love, my children would try to turn another into the wolf pack. They enjoyed being with new people and after a while we grew in numbers. Each time the fullmoon came those who were bitten or scratched would come looking for us. It would prey upon the mortals and hopelessly live forever under my command. I was the alpha.

My children would want mates and increase our ranks that way too. It occured to me that the more we make the more we would feed. I talked to my kind letting them know that we must be careful with who we make our own.

We could handle no more then two new born each year. So while we went to hunt on the full moons we accidently cut or bite someone and unable to finish them off. When they did we let them return to their life. We would call them on the full moon and they would attempt to find us.

So we were a pack and a few wolves did not know what had happened to them. They would wake up on farms with hundreds of dead cattle all around. Each night they turned they would come closer to joining our pack. It was a good gamble when and where they would seek us out. When they did we would meet them all at once.

The urge to come join the pack was really serve. Many people would go insaine trying to find us. In the end we had to let them in and if they were to betray us... they would die. I knew I could trust my own blood as I could easily overpower them. If a mortal was given immortality they were my servents.

They were scared, wondering what they were. Still they knew life as they lived it was over. They had killed people and sometimes I would kill them. The baby that never aged was taken to a temple where we would leave forever."Lives by your flesh" was written on his grave.

Soon enough towns had devil slayers where skilled men would try to rid us of the land. They were not bad and I can't say they weren't a problem... but they never could kill my direct bloodline. I had skills and power no one on this earth had even seen. I lived from the begining and I will try to live until the end.

When we scattered around the world to search for those who were worthy, we found ourselves gather back into the area you call london. This land seemed perfect to us and to this day this is where we lurk the most. It's fine land is fun and people there are often werewolves. It is true though that we've lived in most of the world.

We live where all wolves live. Often know a wolf of any type is somewhat a werewolf. Rather it be in the northern snow where a man hordes wolves to push his slay, or a man in the wrong forest at the wrong time. Chances are you seen a wolf in your time. There is no telling if that wolf was human once.

So after so many times wanting to regroup we called it the callling to come home. Werewolves from all lands would eventually want to stop what they are doing and come join the big pack. If you were one of us you would find us or die.

Despite popluar belief silver is not the only thing that can kill us. You can chop off a werewolfs head, you can shoot him past the brink of self healing, but if you really want to kill us you use a silver bullet. I am cursed by it and even when I was younger I could not wear Silver. This trait has passed through to all my children.

As a great king I often fought to protect my title as unbeatable. Within times of over population I would go against groups of werewolves. I would push them and make them work. I would whip them into doing my will. They were to serve me and my children.

If any wolf would go against my will I could command him myself. If I willed it I could kill them within my mind. It was a power I have over all my kind, even my children, I can kill with a blink of an eye. The wolves who were forever turned increased but mostly lived on animal flesh. They spread into all regions of earth.

You may have killed a wolf, but if you manage to kill a werewolf, you would be dead in days. All werewolves will come after the one who seen our magic. Our secret is one of the best kept secrets of the world. You know stories but you don't believe in them. You know no magic.

Most of the time we'd be in human form. I liked the idea of being human. It is much more rewarding and easier to talk. Werewolves can read each others minds. When one of us is in trouble all around it werewolves knew what was happening. We all had a frenzy that allowed us to turn not just by full moon, but on protective command.

We worked on neighboring cities but often owned our own city. We did not like much housing. We often lived in the wilderness. Having a house in the woods, or a village with wildlife made the perfect life. We often fought on full moons where the servents would battle one by one to death. It is not in our blood to be calm. We are wild wolves and live a very wild life.

I was in a town when the scent of a woman catched my attention. She smelled like the most beauitful smell I ever could smell. Then one day I dug my claw into her back. She would turn the next full moon. Her need for human flesh would be unbearable. She will turn and come looking for the pack. It will take years to get use to everything and chances are you would die.

I took this woman as one of my many wives. They too would carry the curse of lycanthropy. I often believe there is nothing better then a woman who can never die. If you really ask me I believe woman is the best servent. No man is greater to me then girls. I often punished men but woman always knew their place.

So with all the werewolves increasing in the world we all remembered our old lives. On certain nights where there was no moon shining, we would all remember our old lives. It was then that I had time to myself. Other wolves did not bother us and it was a self reflection moment. Instead though I was left with an empty hole.

I had previously lost my old life due to a fight with the devil. During nights of shadowed moons I would get a chance to study the other wolves. I got to see them as prisoners and as kings. I did not do anything but gather all my money to a safe place away from my pack. I got to study and know the lives of all my other werewolves. I could read their minds and know what they did and who they were. I got to know if I could trust them or kill them quick.

During these nights if was another calling to come home. A chance to remember our past lives. The children we left behind, our wives we'll never see again. Friends and family fade away but in the trinkle of starlight we began to remember what it was like to be human.

The Good and Evil

Chapter 1 : The study of different packs

A great number of werewolves came into place. I felt as our numbers reached extreme amounts my power over them would break. A small pack I could lead just fine but thousands and thousands would drain me. We reached full captivity when alarmingly a bunch of new breeds went out and turned a couple hundred more. This broke my mental hold I had over them.

I was with my children in our city when the night started. I was fine and did not expect any betrayal at all. When I felt more join the pack my mind snapped and I fell down. It's like my muscles all stretched and I could not control my moves. It was too much power and I did not know how to control it. My children now knew that I was in clinical care. They also knew there was a mutany at foot.

"Do not fear father, for you have made me strong. I will lead my sword to your enemies heart. I will forever be your wall." they chanted as people of old often did. It seemed as though the newly turned wolves all decided that grunt work was too much to do. They wanted a war to see how far they could make it on their own.

So the werewolves were taking sides and it alarmed me how many choose to disown me. My children and their faithful servants did not leave me. Though some were very quick to question their loyalty. In the end the wolves who could not take human form turned as well. The woman were very loyal and kept in their chambers.

The two sides stayed parted for many months. My children were the only ones that I truely trusted. Our city was attacked on the following full moon. The outsiders revealed themselves to the world and many people spoke of our tale. People betrayed us and called it a cursed land.

Axl which was the oldest of my children lead his brothers, Lance, Samuel, Lache, Turner, and Gabriel all armed themselves with weapons. They went to protect my city in human form. Many of the wolves that could not turned were easy to kill. However the ones who could turn found their protective instincts to be overwelming in times of war.

As the numbers dided off my mind was healing and my body was easier to control. I wasn't in good health so the women demanded that I lay in bed with them to nurse me. Suddenly I felt great pain as the werewolves who turned on me went to make more. They were increasing quickly and started to invade the city themselves.

With each type of werewolves they decided to gang up on my children. The immortal, the guardian and the halflings all gathered on seperate sides of the city.

Chapter 2 : The Ice Age

To be continued The Sorrow In A Wolves Eye Chapter 1 : Over The Years Chapter 2 : The Last of Our Kind

0 notes

drjacquescoulardeau · 8 years ago

Photo

BACH – TELEMANN – PHILIPPE JAROUSSKY – SACRED CANTATAS – 2016

One voice, two composers so different yet so much alike. Bach the totally one-pointed Protestant who believes life has only one end, I mean objective, and that life has to be lived so that the end is reached in the best possible conditions for our soul, if we want to have any honorable Christian future beyond this passage to death, to eternal life, a passage that has no right of passage: just submit to your lot and try to be as good a Christian as you can and hence as successful in this life at what you are doing as possible. Telemann is a man of fire who sees in the world nothing but hatred and vengeance, ugly crimes and horrible sins. Life is fundamentally bad. It is hell on earth and as the good Christian Telemann wants to be he has to wait for the end, for death, that very death that will put all that ugliness beyond reach, that will make us, enable us to escape from that ugliness. Of course you have to wait for it to come by, but Telemann prays and begs Jesus to permit him to share his death, his lot, his resurrection in his father’s realm. But as long as he will live he will be confronted to that ugliness.

Bach’s “Vergnügte Ruh” is a complaint to death and life, to the soul that saves the believer from the world that tries to drag him down. The soul is all-powerful in salvation, but the heart is all-perverted in sinful life and perdition. There is no hope but to concentrate on your soul and to isolate, refrain your heart that is so easily tempted by Satan. Luckily Jesus can help the soul to go on living as good as possible in this world of temptation. Philippe Jaroussky reaches in this tortured situation, in this ripped open mind and personality of this individual Christian that is torn apart between his soul and his heart. He reaches some luminous summits in serene pain and in exquisite belief that when the end comes his life will speak for his soul and not his heart. There is some absolute certainty in this deep pain. Suffering becomes beauty, death becomes a promise in tone and in vocal color. And it can end in an aria that is so light, gay, dynamic like a funfair merry-go-round that makes the repentant sinner beg for the end to be able to capitalize on his soul during his life to reach what he calls Himmelszion, the promised land of heavens that can only be reached at the end of the long ordeal of this life.

Telemann’s “Die stille Nacht” is the dirge of a suffering sinner, because any Christian in this life is a sinner and they must suffer for their sins though they cannot prevent them. When Bach had a choice in this life, Telemann sees no choice at all. He uses in the first aria a sentence that- expresses this lot, this curse. “’Ich bin betrübt bis in den Tod.” There is no hope, no escape and this sadness that brings his soul to despair, this suffering that crushes his bones, this agony he suffers in soul and body, resounds from the very first notes, repetitive violin chords that punctuate the fall into that abyss of torment. And the sentence I have just given is sung in such a way that we are fascinated by the mesmerizing hypnosis this sinner contemplates.

“Ich bin betrübt / bis in den Tod / bis in den Tod

“Ich bin betrübt / bis in den Tod / bis in den Tod”

The line is thus cut up into three segments and repeated three times, NINE the number of the beast. No escape from this beast and this beast will come back after the soul and its despair, after the bones being crushed and after the terrible agony that is suffered, this beast will come back a second time in its thrice ternary structure. NINE again, the beast to start with, the beast to end up with and in between just plain pain and suffering, alive of course.

And the second aria starts with the request of Jesus to his father to take the cup of his future suffering on the cross away. Philippe Jaroussky sings it as if it were love, love with no restraint- from a little child to his father, as if it w<ere Isaac speaking to Abraham. And yet at once the rebellion of this son in front of the suffering yields into submission in suffering. The tone of Philippe Jaroussky is all we need to believe that double nature and to come back to the childish request of Jesus a second time. And in this second request after the rebellious moment, Jesus sounds nearly of age to make up his own mind, to lie down on the wood of the sacrifice and to ask his father to please let him turn his head away not to look at the knife.

And that leads to the third aria, an aria of hope, maybe, of witnessing for sure of Jesus’ mission and achievement. Telermann calls all human children and all sinners to see Jesus in his saving ordeal of a crucifixion. And the spectacle is one of sadness in hope, or hope in sadness, of some kind of erring in the vocalises as if the soul was stammering in front of the agony, the long hours of pain leading to death and yet to salvation.

Bach’s “Ich habe genug” is surprising in just some sort of homesickness of the soul that is longing to go back to the home it has come from, the divine essence it has descended from. That is so well expressed by Philippe Jaroussky in the first aria. The title which is also the first line has two meanings. “Genug” like in “OK! That will do! That’s enough!” but also “genug” like in “I have enough of Jesus in me to bear all that perverted life and to climb back up to my divine origin.” And the conclusion is that the sinner is ready to go, ready to leave this life behind, happy in the Jesus he has integrated in his soul, in his being, in his Christian mind.

This aria and the next one reveal a repetitive music that has a very strong effect on the congregation that listens to it and that even takes part in it as if it were impossible not to sing along this long lamentation. We are hypnotized and mesmerized into entering the song, the psalm, the arias, the total submission to this moment of light and conviction that we are one step away from rejoining Jesus in his eternal life. Rebellion has in any possible way been excluded and rejected by Bach and the second aria “Schlummert ein” is like a lullaby sung by ourselves to ourselves to put ourselves to sleep, both meaning intended since we are ready for the big departure. The contemplation of one’s own death is pathetic but also empathetic. That’s Bach’s peaceful vision of the mortal lot of human beings. And this first sentence is repeated three times as the opening of the aria, between the two stanzas and the closing of the aria. A trinity that is divine of course and that expresses the perfect equilibrium of the soul in its communion with god. Not one human child can resist this engulfing music, voice and discourse. Let’s go to sleep in this absolutely certainty.

That leads us to the last aria “Ich freue mich auf meinen Tod.” The circle has been run over and over and we have come back again and again to this moment that is an end of the trajectory and a beginning of the enlightenment that comes at this rare and unique moment when our soul is flying up, escaping from down here and reuniting itself with Jesus. This cantata is a miracle in vocal expressivity and depth. And this last aria is joy because death is joy and we have to dance with death around the maypole of the resurrection of our soul finally freed of this life and our bones, our hearts, our bodies, “all the affliction that confined me here on earth.”

Telemann’s “Jesus liegt in letzten Zügen” goes back to the reality of Jesus’ crucifixion and long suffering of the torture and the death penalty, but not death for death, rather death for the show of it, for the pleasure of an audience, a death that has to be long and progressive. And Telemann in front of the reality of life can only rebel against our lot that is a real curse in a way: the curse that does not bring death that turns our life in the year long ordeal and torture that has to make us age and die so slowly that we cannot even count the minutes of pain because they are millions and each one is worse and harsher than the previous one and yet nothing to compare with the next one. Jesus’ crucifixion becomes a short vision of our own pain since it is concentrated in something like nine hours whereas our slow execution takes a whole life to finally reach its proper end. Philippe Jaroussky makes his voice weep and cry for mercy in so sad tones that we understand how this cry for mercy is the last thing a human child can really long for, death, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

We could think at this moment Telemann sees Jesus dying on his cross through the eyes of the young teen named John who is at the foot of the cross and who is going to be entrusted to Mary, and Mary to John. John is a child and in these days, children could see real ugliness across the street or in front of any temple, real killing of people, slicing of bodies, slow dying for the pleasure of the death provider. Nothing to compare with today’s Internet provider’s pictures of all that human monstrosity. It was not a screen in those days. It was a real war, real legionaries killing and violating anything that still had some life in their flesh.

The second aria, “Mein Liebster Heiland,” is a love song to Jesus because of the salvation he gave us. And I do say a love song because love it is, absolute and without any restraint. The cantata can then end on a phenomenal dance that brings together joy because death is coming and anger because death has not yet come and done its work. Jesus’ salvation of human children is turned into a promise for us to die as soon as we can hope for it. “Darauf freuet sich mein Geist.” And this “Geist” is the little part of Holy Spirit we have in us, in our soul, a little piece of Holy Spirit that can rejoice since death is finally coming and will liberate it.

We can wonder why Philippe Jaroussky brought together these four cantatas that are so deadly to the point of death and death again? It sure is the celebration of death and we have to go through such a moment when death is so close, so next to us, for us to be able to feel that morbidly joyful, that sadly hopeful call to depart this life. This CD is mourning the death of someone and we can recognize ourselves in such a deep and emotional celebration of the high road to the celestial mountains lost in heavenly clouds.

Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

#cantata #death #Jesus #ordeal #suffering #salvation

0 notes