Right, well… It’s not really late noon, but afternoon yet still, you got a load of cosplay pics to enjoy AND I was with ergoproxy on the phone – poor fella – and you do not hang up on someone who is in the army against their wishes. Anyhow, today we’re talking about the much anticipated 3D movie, featuring models and voices of well-known actors, such as Ray Winstone (Beowulf), Anthony Hopkins (Hrothgar), Angelina Jolie (Grendel’s Mother), John Malkovich (Unferth), Brendan Gleeson (Wiglaf) and Robin Wright Penn (Wealthow). For the full cast go here.
It’s really amazing how a bit of animated, 3D blood and approximately 7cm of extra 3D Jolie/Grendel’s Mother breasts constitute reason for making this trailer “Restricted Audience” only. I mean, haven’t these people figured out that their children see more blood and violence on their PC screens, action and horror movies or decent news channels every day? But I will not let this escalate to global social commentary, no dear sirs and ladies. I only want to give you an educated glimpse into the historic reality behind this film.
Beowulf is an epic poem written in Old English, its oldest surviving manuscript dating from the end of the 10th or the beginning of the 11th century A.D. (also known as the Nowell Codex). Let us clarify something: when we say, “Old English”, it has nothing to do with your father’s, grandfather’s, great-grandfather’s English and onwards, or even Shakespearean English. No, in truth it is more accurate to say that this is the oldest surviving Germanic Epic, since English, Swedish and modern German originated from the common Western Germanic progenitor tongue, which used runes common with the Scandinavians; on the other hand, the Eastern Germanic progenitor tongue gave birth to the Gothic tongue (as in Goths, Ostrogoths and Visigoths, not black-dressed people with too much make-up). Even though the manuscript is dated centuries after the Germanic tongue went on to give birth to the Saxon tongue and then the aforementioned Old English, it is almost certain that it was copied by an older version or even the recording of oral tradition dating centuries back. The text has been identified as having two authors, the second taking over at line 1939 out of 3183 and it mixes Western Saxon dialect with Old English and uses the evolution of Gothic script, as shown below.
The First Page from the Nowell Codex.
The story it relates takes place in the late 5th and early 6th century A.D. and describes the exploits of the hero Beowulf, against the monstrous Grendel, the monster’s witch-mother and finally, a Dragon. I will not tire you with the actual story, which you can find in any number of internet sites or printed editions in (modern) English or experience in the Neil Gaiman version (either the comic book or movie). I only want to stress a few issues: first, the name “Beowulf”. It is widely (and mistakenly) thought that it means “Great Wolf”. There are actually three interpretations: the first literally means bee-wolf, an ancient (Old English) vernacular for “Bear”, since they are both furry predators and a Bear likes honey, thus making it a “bee-eating-wolf”. Beowulf was supposed to have the strength of ten men, so “Bear” seems reasonable. Secondly, it could derive from the Old Dutch term for “black woodpecker”, common in Norse regions and persistent to the death. Thirdly, the most recent interpretation (2005) is that it’s a permutation of the Old Norse word for “Thor’s Wolf”, which contains the name of the Germanic god Beow, an earlier version of the God of Thunder.
The new Video Game’s Interpretation of Beowulf as King.
Lastly, I want to make something clear: however you may have seen it (or will see it as I will, next Saturday) in the film, in the original story Beowulf had nothing to do with Grendel and his mother, save slay them and free the people of King Hrothgar from terror. His only sin may have been in his somewhat arrogant and uncontrolled behavior but that is to be expected by a man who was probably a Norse berserker.
There have been another two cinematic Beowulfs: First, Christophe Lambert in 1999, with the porn-star Layla Roberts as Grendel’s Mother (which is why the movie was worth it). Second, Gerard Butler (of 300 and Phantom of the Opera fame) in 2005, in the film Beowulf & Grendel, a more human, historical approach to the legend. It is an interesting film, with good performances but hardly amazing.
Hello again faithful readers! Yes, we ARE having a double update today, since I am writing this at 12:50 A.M. Local Time and for me, it is technically still Sunday, so the scheduled update will be posted today around late noon. The reason is simple: I had already scheduled the update content and lo and behold, on Saturday we had a Cosplay Party! It took place at the BIOS club (in Athens, on Pireos Street, near Gazi, for those reading us locally), with Japanese music (all genres from pop, rock to metal, goth, you name it) and LOADS of people cosplaying, whether dressed as anime characters, following the staples of visual kei, goth, loli or both! I went dressed just as my nickname states (Tatsumi Saiga), in order to blend in. Of course, that did not entail much, save for black trousers and overcoat, white shirt generously unbuttoned and messily stuffed into my pants, just like the semi-derelict Speedgrapher. Oh, and let us not forget, my black digi-cam hanging by my neck, part of the attire BUT mainly so that I may take loads of pictures and share some with you right here.
Before we get straight to the goods, some explanations and “thankUs” are in order. The party was organized by JMusic.gr, with my friend Myrto and Michael at the forefront and I thank them both for all the effort they put into it (if anyone else from the organizing committee is reading this, apologies you guys and gals but… I do not know who you are!). Next up is my friend Catherine who works at the Solaris Comic Book Store, is probably THE most up-to-date person in Greece (besides me of course, hehehe – OK, just kidding!) about manga and anime and saw to it that people with cool costumes stayed put and got photographed by yours truly (seriously, I am hiring you as my PR manager). Last but not in any way least, I want to thank Adrianna for suffering me to take her picture with my ridiculously bright flash bulb, even though that caused her discomfort. She was the most cooperative and fun person I met all night (along with Elisabeth, the definitive Queen of Dark Magic).
Well, that’s it from your ranting author/photographer/part-time domesticated bear, so on with the goodies (pictures will have the name of the cosplayed character, if any - the cosplay was not anime/manga exclusive but also related to modern japanese street fashion, visual kei etc., as mentioned above - unless I do not know it. If you see anything you know and I don’t, feel free to comment on it and I will add the name afterwards)!
Haruka from Love Hina.
Road Camelot from D.Gray-Man...
...and friends.
Light Yagami from Death Note.
Lady Oscar from Rose of Versailles, Light Yagami from Death Note and Japanese Goth Fashion.
Madame Batolli from Under the Glass Moon.
Naruto Enthusiasts (Konoha Shinobi).
The DJs as Elfen Lied's Nana and Lucy.
Enjoyed it? More to come during the week! Don’t forget to check back at late noon for our regular update.
Yup, it's not update day but as mentioned in the original post for the updates, it's "one of those Specials": this is a social service by Easy Subjugation and its suffering authors. Suffering? "Why?" you ask. Well, ergoproxy is doing his M.A.S. and poor little old me has been dealing with problem after problem with my new, rapidly-becoming-beloved PC. First it was the forbidding distance of my room from the house router, then faulty wiring with the internet and phone cables and then yesterday, the absolute horror: a virus threat that got through! Besides my faithful Corporate Edition Norton, which had detected the threat but did not seem able to counter it, I was rained upon by bogus "You have been infected with so-and-so Trojan of a very high risk (successive windows professed different threats, such as low internet connectivity and CPU performance or credit card number theft etc.), so please download so-and-so anti-spyware/trojan/etc. from our (automatically loaded) site".
OK, I have encountered some weird stuff in my time, so I just ignored it and ran a full anti-virus scan, deleting manually anything that seemed suspicious, deactivating the internet and deleting cookies, whereby the annoyance stopped - temporarily. As soon as I got back online, here we go again and not only that, but two cookies REFUSED to be deleted. By then, the successive - and wildly different - messages were popping-up, so I realized it was definitely a virus and a stubborn one at that. It took me some time but after googling a bit, I found the actual problem and solution in the Symantec site at this location. It is a bit of a pain and you have to be careful, but it DID resolve the problem. Now all that remains is finding a way to close the door through which enter these annoying Trojan.Vundo and Adware.Ezula, which Norton keeps blocking and warning me about. They only infect the Temporary Internet Files so it's nothing to worry about.
Yes, I know this is hardly news but I really cannot stay silent about it, now that the movie will be premiering in Greece on the 29th. When I thought I saw a trailer on satellite TV, I was near certain I thought wrong. A quick trip to the internet kindled my hopes… and doubts. I have been an enthusiast of the Dungeon Siege series for nearly three years (I have played DS and DSII as well as Broken World numerous times, in order to collect all the special items and item sets and try out different races and am now trying out various mods, that had come out when it was all hype); that said, seeing Jason Statham from the Transporter and Crank movies, in the role of “The Farmer”, I was flabbergasted: first, he is a damn good actor and second, well, the game series got you used to seeing the female redhead in the lead role (even if Tristan Dragonfist the Dwarf ended up being played the most and as my personal favorite, but I digress). John Rhys-Davies (Indiana Jones’s large friend Sallah in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade and Gimli, son of Gloin in the Lord of the Ring Movies) was a special treat in the role of Merick (who, in DS is a wizard you meet and get as a party character in the Alpine Caverns), as was Burt Reynolds (the tough Inspector Logan from Hostage Hotel) in the role of King Konreid.
The much marketed Farmer Girl turned hero, from Dungeon Siege.
However, my anticipation turned to doubt and controlled resentment, as I saw the name of Uwe Boll, filling the director space. It seems he is on a roll, producing movies based on popular video-games, like Alone in the Dark and Bloodrayne. I do not know about AiD, but Bloodrayne seriously sucked: it was probably one of the worst bits of direction and acting I have ever seen, which puts me in quandary concerning this movie. I LOVE Dungeon Siege and there is a VERY decent cast involved; but will it deliver? The story is loosely based on DS and a multiplayer-only expansion called “Yesterhaven”, where you can take your characters to the UtraeanPeninsula, wherein is located Crystwind Hall. I am not really sure how Ehb and the Peninsula are connected but the Krug incursion in DS was the plan of the mysterious Seck, who forced these simple, a bit barbaric people to become their shock troops. In this case, a wizard named Gallian is behind it all.
The Krug are not very well made and only passably resemble those in the game or the character designs (see below). However, this should probably not matter much, since they are sort of the DS Orcs.
Krug Concept Sketch.
I WILL go and watch the movie but retain my reservations as to the result, all the while praying for Dungeon Siege III. In closing, here is another trailer of the movie.
At first, I was puzzled; I knew what “Magus” meant: it was derived from the Greek “Magos”, which means “Miracle” and by association, “Magus” is equivalent to “Miracle-Worker” and “Thaumaturgist”…or “Wizard”. Then, my first thought was that this peculiar man, whoever he was, must be a total nutjob. Well, it is hard to believe someone who tells you you’re a mini-Gandalf, especially when he is wearing ordinary doctor’s apparel. It seems he was aware of my thoughts (literally or judging by my expression – I never really found out) and he smiled condescendingly.
“You are skeptical; that is good in this world – to a degree; means you don’t have your head constantly in the clouds – but you must also be open to the wildly improbable, for it is the foundation of your very existence – and ours. Why are you unharmed? How did you even survive the disaster? The casual observer would say it was impossible – and he would be wrong, for it was merely improbable, highly, if you like but still, merely improbable. Therein lies your power, within the realm of improbability anchored to the core of your being; your soul, if you like. She should be stirring soon enough and with her, your grasp on our world.”
I suddenly raised my hand to stop the torrent of his words and shook my head as if my ears were full of water.
“Whoa! Wait, stop. What are you talking about? What improbability, what… Who’s ‘she?’”
I was confused beyond words: those surreal people – the people I came to hold so dear in my now dead heart – were talking of Magic, probabilities, a soul who was female and was inside me and would grant me power and… then I heard it for the first time: the gentle and powerful stretching of large wings, coming from somewhere deep inside me. It was not as if I would burst open, in true lovecraftian fashion, but as if I somehow grew in size while losing mass, something projecting out of me, becoming me, kissing my eyes open.
“Hello my young cub…” she purred, like a great cat. No, “cat” is probably not right. More like an ancient, female, feline megatherion, who had devoured the most sensuous woman on Earth and now used her voice. Even in my degraded state, I still remember the moment clearly – yes, memory has been my greatest blessing… and curse – as if it were yesterday: I felt perfectly, wonderfully helpless, indeed just like a cub in his lioness mother’s jaws, or a man surrendering unconditionally to an incredible woman. I was rigid – in every sense.
“Who… who are you?”I realized I wasn’t speaking but it seemed our inner voice carried over, because Cynthia and the almost-stranger were looking at me – us? – intently.
“No need to fear me my young one, indeed no need to even bask in my presence, however I enjoy it. I am your Truth. Good men and women, even evil ones, will label me Alma Magica, the “Miracle Soul”, the “Soul of Magic”, a Daemon akin to that of Socrates. Heed their words for they hold truth but I am your Truth. Yours and yours alone, I am what completes you, as you are what makes me.”
“What are you called?” for, if anything I had read while seeking the wondrous in a world of bleakness, stood true, you never asked one’s Name. It was tantamount to insulting them and if anything, this creature commanded an instinctive respect. She laughed, booming, deep, satisfied and amused.
“Good call, for one thinking with his brain. Touch me with your heart and know me, for there is nothing of me that does not belong to you, until death do us part. I am Klymene, the Black Sphinx and I am yours.” And the words seemed to flow naturally, secreted away since forever, in some unknown recess of my self.
“I am Prometheus, the Rememberer and I am yours.” Like a wedding of body and spirit, we were joined, Magus and Sphinx, the whole greater than the sum of its parts. I regained conscious control of my body and looked at Cynthia and the old man. They had bowed slightly and the old man was looking at me with silvery eyes, a satisfied smile on his face.
“I bid you and the Lady Klymene welcome to the World of Wyrd, Magus Prometheus” and he spoke in a language I did not recognize, yet mysteriously understood. My instinctive response stuck halfway from my brain to my mouth.
“He is Rama the Gentle and there is much that is unknown and unknowable about him, save his kindness and wisdom. None but he and you may understand this conversation, for he and I know each other of old.”
“I extend my gratitude to you Master Rama and put myself in your care, to be taught the ways of our world.” At that, he raised an amused eyebrow. He extended his hand and I took it and he clasped my shoulder with his other one.
“There is much potential in you my young friend, much more than meets any eye, human or otherwise and I vow to try and teach you how to bring it forth. Above and beyond any and all lessons, always remember: you are your choices and only as strong as your heart of hearts.” I started to ask but he raised a wide hand and stopped me. ”What meaning these words hold, is for you and you alone, to discover, as well as keep. Come now, there is much to be done and your family awaits.”
Thus did I cross the Threshold into the World of Wyrd. It is by no means easy to describe what this actually means or entails: the easiest explanation is that you realize man is the dominant species only by convention and retains that place due to historic events and circumstances completely unknown to him. I know that “The Truth Is Out There” got coined for that – for the most part – silly TV series but it’s true: the common person does not even suspect that there is a whole other community, indeed a whole other world of races found mostly in fiction and fairy tales (and even more usually, nightmares), living and dying just beyond the edge of his perception. A more complicated – and difficult to put into words – view, is that by crossing the Threshold, whether simply a human believer or otherwise, one gains a near-supernatural awareness of the strangeness of the Wyrd people, as opposed to unremarkable humans. However, this description is inadequate and only part of my fruitless effort to remember how it was when Klymene was still with me or indeed, when I simply lived and dreamed and hoped. What is definitely true, is that when you see us for what we are, not only do we see you, as always but an unwritten law states that we may freely interact with you – and that is especially true for the sort of dark creature I have become. Our kind, bereft of the warmth of life, is better equipped for and more prone to breaking the Law of Tales. In any event, the World of Wyrd is much like the everyday world, existing right beside it, only much more affected by all things supernatural and emotional, as well as colored by them. A favorite playground may be a small Fae Court and an abandoned building may be a pocket Nightmare Realm and anything else you can think of.
But I digress. That is how I met my Master in the mystic arts, known as Rama the Gentle. He, along with two other Wyrd, the Artificer-Magus Ozymandias Clendathum and the mysterious Bowen Dragonfriend, was the leader of a Society – or perhaps Order is more appropriate, though it did not follow such a structure – that was comprised of many Wyrd, a surprising majority not Magi and many Fae namely among them. It seems that the High Council – also known as the Well of Wyrd, after the well guarded by Mimir and whose waters supposedly gave Odin ultimate knowledge – had a very healthy respect of the Dragons of Kildare (as the Order was called) and let the three gentlemen act with much free leave. Though the World of Wyrd does not have global politics per se, except within each race – with a few notable exceptions – the Well is sort of the Wyrd UN, convening rarely and enforcing its rare decisions with absolute authority – and power. The Well has 8 Seats and each race is represented by its chosen Mimir (a term of honor, relating to the same myth). To give an example of the Mimirs’ power, the Vampire Seat was once filled by none other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, Count Dracula himself.
After the initial shock of my true nature, I welcomed it as the realization of my dreams and stories. Cynthia of course, was Fae, a Panther Fauve, offshoot of the shapechanging Pwca family. She admitted to having been ordered to keep an eye on me, because my "eccentricity" made me a perfect candidate to be Wyrd or a human ally, at the very least. She thanked me for "providing her with the necessary essence" for as long as we had known each other, though I never quite understood what she meant by that and Rama’s explanation of the "mechanics of Dreamsence" did not exactly enlighten me. She also admitted to "finding me interesting", but that was as far as she was willing to take it. To say I was disappointed would be a gross understatement (so young, so clean of blood), but my understanding of this Fae (if that can ever be said) made me capable of accepting it.
Life went on... I was allowed to graduate high school, while simultaneously studying the Hermetic Principles of Magic. My first assigned mentor, before I studied under Rama, was a British Dragon (meaning, member of the Order, not an actual Dragon) by the name of Annie Kensington. She was calm, methodical and tolerant most of the time, but memory of her punishments is one of the few things that make me smile even now. Thinking back, I learned my Magia (method of harnessing reality itself to perform what is commonly referred to as Magic, a.k.a. “spellcasting” but that is so cartoonish) exclusively from Annie, while Master Rama somehow, guided me into unlocking capabilities and producing effects on a whole different level, beyond the actual formulas. I am not even sure he was a Magus and those hints I have of something far above and beyond, I will keep to myself, in case this journal ever falls into the wrong hands.
On the pretext of attending an Irish College for Physics and Mechanical Engineering, it was arranged that I went to live with the rest of the Dragons of Kildare, at their concealed Sanctum Sanctorum and home, in the southwestern island (more of a titanic rock sticking out of the Irish Sea actually) of Skellig Michael (it’s not as if someone simply learning of the location can actually do much about it). There, I spent some of the happiest years of my mortal (Magus) life. I met many kinds of people, of many different races, both human and Wyrd and made some good friends. Describing them and my years there, as well as the missions we went on at the behest of the Masters, will make me deviate from the purpose of this manuscript. Only the last mission I went on matters now: the one that put me on this dark, lonely road…
Yup, here we reappear. OK people, we know we failed to comply with our announcement of regular updates every Friday and Monday, but there is good cause behind that: ergoproxy left just yesterday for his Mandatory Army Service and was crazy with preparations and as for me, heh, I just got a new PC and had to rewire the whole damn thing, as well as the internet. Result: no internet until I found out where I had screwed up, so it went to rewiring - Round 2. However, everything is back in working order now and I will keep up with the updates, make no mistake. Check back later today for both the missed update and the Literary Section. Meanwhile, let me post this here video dedicated to my army-suffering friend, with a montage of the best scene in Lord of the Rings II: The Two Towers.
This video describes the extraordinary mental abilities of Daniel Tammet. He is one of the world’s few savants. Really the word genius does not even scratch the surface. I guess the way to describe it is this: While I am sitting here trying to make this description half-amusing, he has managed to learn an entire language in a week and can casually do calculations to 100 decimal places in his head. He really has a breathtaking mind. I don’t feel comfortable admitting it but I actually wept watching this video because of how lucky I felt to be able to witness such brilliance in my lifetime. On second thought, it is the world that is lucky to have Daniel.
I don’t want to write too much about the video because I do not want to spoil it for the people who read the comments first. Instead what I do want to write about are the people we idolize. Why is it the actors the singers or the models? I love music, movies and models as much as the next guy, but at the end of the day all these people are terrible role models. I want this guy on MTV!
Well, here is a satiating video on our consciousness, which explains, not only “An Illusion of Sound” but how our brains actively work to fool us, even as they try to figure out our surroundings. Dan Dennett, a compelling and erudite speaker, combines the best of the worlds of philosophy and neurology, to explain how we inadvertently try to fit disparate elements to uncover (or create) patterns. The video was featured on TED [link], a site compiling a series of talks by the brightest minds on all fields, which take place in Monterey, California. This is internet education at its best! Enjoy. For those of you, who wonder what “An Illusion of Sound” is, click here.
OK, I came across this fact, divulged by author J. K. Rowling, as the news broke but honestly doubted the truth of it; after the confirmation by various sources, ergoproxy and I were at a loss as to what to do about it here. Then, finally, the video where it was broadcasted on the news, surfaced. We argued quite a bit on the implications, motives and what-not of the writer. At the end of our long debate, it was obvious: we just HAD to post the whole discussion and let the readers reach their own conclusions. So here it is:
Speedgrapher: OK, it’s official; I have lost any respect I had for J .K. Rowling.
ergoproxy: I must admit, it was quite irresponsible of her. If you’re gonna flabbergast us, why not make it part of the plot?
SG: Absolutely! I think what best illustrates this, is something I read in the newsgroups of www.sff.net, a portal for matters related to fantasy literature. To quote one of our favorite authors, Robin Hobb: “Character privacy! Characters reveal themselves in various ways as the author writes the book. There are some who insist on sharing everything. Others tell the author (and thus the reader) ‘I would never be so sharing with my friends. I'm not saying it in dialogue. Why are you telling everyone what I choose to keep private?’” [For the full text, check source]
EP: I guess the big question is: is this a big marketing ploy or an honest reflection of how she imagined the character?
SG: Either way, it’s unacceptable: Dumbledore has been the quintessential father figure, especially for Harry. This sudden statement, unfounded on whatsoever in the books, simply ruins our perception of the character.
EP: But how can you be sure there’s nothing there? It made ME want to go back and reread the books just to make sure (damn, good marketing after all!).
SG: Look, you know how I NEVER forget things, especially things I’ve read? It’s simply not there!
EP: WoW! Hold your horses Sherlock! It may be true that your brain is like a gargantuan sponge, but being a heterosexual male, I doubt your gaydar is that advanced.
SG: Say what?
EP: Well, we’re not gay; how could we tell? Those sorts of subtle hints simply wouldn’t register.
SG: OK, true enough. So… what…? It’s an inside joke just for the potential homosexual reader?
EP: Why not? Books are supposed to tell different things to different people. Everyone has their own point of view on stories and they empathize with different characters in different ways.
SG: However, a writer’s duty is to her story and characters, first and foremost. How does it serve the story for Dumbledore to suddenly (for us) be gay? You ask me, it is irrelevant at best, a disservice at worst.
EP: Bare in mind though, it is as yet not established whether the statement has had an impact on the book. [If you’re reading this and you have spotted something we haven’t, let us know by dropping a comment.]
SG: …
EP: Admit it, Gandalf is also gay.
SG: ***CENSORED*** Seriously though, for the purposes of this discussion, let us assume that there is an equal number of heterosexual and homosexual readers (which I doubt, given that most are at an age devoid of sexual orientation). At least half of the books’ enthusiasts have met with gross disappointment at this out-of-the-blue revelation. It’s like learning you have been empathizing with a complete stranger.
EP: The issue of sexuality has been kept to a bare minimum, in all seven books. Therefore, even if Hagrid were a flaming transsexual, it wouldn’t be a matter addressed in the books. Nonetheless, Dumbledore’s homosexuality must have been an important element in how the author built his personality.
SG: I have no objection – indeed, no say – in how an author views or molds her characters. I DO object to an out-of-context statement, which potentially hurts her devoted audience.
EP: It’s true that the things I liked most about Dumbledore were not those I knew, but those I didn’t. I enjoyed the secrecy surrounding him, his charming mystique. But goddammit, if Voldemort knows, so should we!
SG: Well dear readers, now, so do you.
By all means, let us know what YOU think right here or e-mail us at:
Since we took off on a literary streak, today we have a special for you, as this update will be double, premiering the promised Literary Section. Enjoy and do not forget to be back on Monday, for the explanation of “An Illusion of Sound” and more…!
Gothic Fantasy: The Memoirs of Prometheus Act I: The Name of the Game Part I: Welcome Home
It is horrible, this existence... One would wonder which is worse: losing one's soul, or losing one's humanity; humanity being mercy, compassion, the strength coming from one's own heart. My heart... what a shriveled and useless thing it has become, its metamorphosis robbing me of my strengths and skills and giving me other, terrible... capabilities.
How did it all begin...? Though still vivid in my memory are the good times and the times after, which makes it all the more painful, sometimes I tend to believe (hope?) that it was all but a psychedelic dream. Yet... as I look, at the dawn of each dying twilight, at my mirror and see that corpse-like pallor and the ice forming on the glass when I touch it, I know I've seen another unliving dusk. And my left eye... Where it once was, there remains only a black eye-patch and a perfect vertical scar, beginning at the hairline of my forehead and reaching just under my cheekbone; it emits a soft blue light, evident in the eyes of those meant to see it, marking me with Magic.
Almost only half of my actual years have I lived as a "normal" human, albeit one called "eccentric", "weirdo", "creepy" and other such well-meant epithets. True, I was fascinated by magic, faeries, myths and legends that made tolerable the everyday banality of my life. Though it turned out, there was much more to those things than just my fascination or my imagination...
It all started about 8 years ago. I was still at the age of sixteen, when the school organized a field trip to some paper producing factory. The factory was the least of my concerns; my mind, for the previous 2 weeks, had been full of a certain girl... It sounds childish (well, I wasn't all that old anyway), but that girl had enchanted me (I never learned how literal that may have been) and was the only one that would look deeply into my eyes and have me, in all seriousness, tell her all the stories I had read and made up (I prided myself on my storytelling at that time); never missing a word or a subtle detail addressed at her. Yes, I now know that was the essence of what is called "the magic of a child's dreams", for at heart, I was always just that, a child.
As our escorts led us through the various departments of the factory, saying this and that, I only became aware that someone was actually talking when I heard: "...danger of explosion and the consequent fire are averted". We were standing inside the generator room that powered the megalithic beast through whose intestines we'd journeyed during those last hours.At the time, I knew not why, but a sudden fear and uneasiness came over me as I looked at the signs depicting danger of electrocution, even more so at those warning of fire. I started panicking silently but of course, what with everyone looking dumbly at the generators, no one noticed. Inexplicably terrified, I searched with my eyes for Cynthia (that was the girl's name) and I saw her, standing the nearest possible to one generator, smiling at me, as the others proceeded. As the room emptied, we stood looking at each other still. She glanced at the generator, then back at me, a wide – even close to wicked – smile on her face.
Then I heard the deafening explosion, the sudden ringing, twisting and screaming of steel against steel and the roaring of great flames. I do not have much recollection of what actually happened, for in those instances of terror, events seem to speed by you and overlap with each other, in a haze of colors. What I do remember, is the upper part of the generator collapsing towards Cynthia and me throwing myself towards her, screaming her name – she was smiling – frantically. The flames stood in my way! I could not reach her in time! I roared like a wild beast for the flames to be gone – still she smiled – and the flames were gone. I reached her in time and covered her with my body, fully expecting the generator – she smiled ever more widely – to crush me. I prayed silently that my back would take most of the blow and spare her – she touched my face – her life. Then all went black and I heard her – was it her voice? – whisper: "You have been sleeping, but now you are awake."
Original Artwork by Lockie
Color by Speedgrapher
In that darkness, I saw wonderful and terrible images. A dark-haired woman, with a powerful, leonine body and wings forged of night, her name… Klymene? Then I saw Cynthia – or was it not Cynthia – as… nor woman, nor panther but the best of both?! Then, a court of light, wherein many wondrous creatures defying description resided. Most prominent were three silver-haired men, at the center of the court. One was very tall, wearing green and silver robes, his long hair in a tight ponytail, holding a black staff with what looked like a silver dragon's head sculpted on top. A weird device of metal and gems covered his left eye. The rightmost had streaks of golden hair enmeshed into his silvery mane – or was it the other way around? – and fine scaling seemed to cover his face. He wore the simple leather clothes of a woodsman. The one in the middle, he shone so brightly I was having a hard time looking at him. He was shorter than the other two, but he gave me the feeling of great wisdom; he wore silvery-white robes and a shining breastplate. He shone, even more so his warm smile, as he addressed the people – creatures? – of the court. Then he turned to me: "Welcome home..." he said. Welcome home...
"Welcome back", I heard, faintly at the beginning, then more clearly. Everything was a blur. I was in a shining place and started to think I probably died, when I saw the tearful face of my mother, very, very real and really close to mine. In fact, I was in a shining hospital room, the bright light of day entering through the open shutters. What kind of hospital is that pleasant? I wondered. I hated hospitals. I tried to turn my head, but my neck would not budge. I saw my mother's face go away and a voice I did not recognize calmed her and reassured her. It resembled the voice of the man... nah just my idea, I thought. Then I heard the door close and footsteps coming towards me. I tried to move again, but nada.
"Stop trying to move. You're supposed to have a broken neck, a crushed back and an arm fracture."
What did he mean, I was "supposed" to…? I mean, I could not feel most of my body and sure as hell that generator fell on me.
"Oh, is it that bad? Where am I for instance? This place is too nice to be a hospital. Is it some kind of private clinic?"
For the first time – or was it not the first time? Where had I seen him? – I saw his face. He helped me sit upright and have a better look at my surroundings. It was indeed a most pleasant room, its walls painted white, mixed with just a hint of blue, giving it a calming air.There was the bed, a few chairs, and a bedside table with the most beautifully smelling (I wish things could still evoke such sensations for me) flowers in the whole world.
The man talking to me was barely 170 cm, broad and muscled it seemed, and probably well over 50 (actually, as I learned later, he was much, much older than that). His face, against all logic, bore striking resemblance to the luminous man in my dream. He too had a silvery beard and his long white hair was neatly tied and clasped behind his neck. In one of the chairs, I noticed a small-framed, cowled figure, waiting in silence.
He cleared his throat in amusement: "You… could say this is a sort of... private clinic, yes. But there are no expenses to worry about."
"How's that?", I asked suspiciously.
"Well..." said the man as he looked at the cowled figure, who then nodded. He approached and removed my neck brace and I started tingling all-over from the release of the skin. I rubbed it vehemently and, to my surprise, did not feel any pain at all.
"What the...?"
"Stand up" said he.
"But my back..." I tried to object and he cut me short, though kindly.
"Try at least."
Well, one must do as the doctor orders so, bracing for the pain, I tried to get off the bed; to my surprise, I did so easily. When the pain came, it was more like one due to hard exercise after a long time. My legs and back were in perfect order, as was my "fractured" arm.
"Payment is due when you have to treat a patient and you, my young friend, are healthy as a bull."
Of course, he was right. There was nothing wrong with me except for a slight stiffness.
"But, ... the factory, the generator..."
"Yes, it all happened" he answered matter-of-factly. I was beginning to understand that something weird was going on.
"Who are you people? What is this place?"
"First and foremost, we are friends... Right Cynthia?" and the small-framed figure let the cowl drop, to reveal the hybrid Cynthia of my dream. I was awestruck and unable to speak. I just stared in amazed terror. "That aside, we are more than human, as are you now... young Magus! " and silvery flames seemed to dance in his eyes, even as he smiled broadly.
...or, "what's in a name". In this particular blog's name there's lots of things: there's two old friends, one of which is fond of peculiar words and another, who sighs in exasperation at his taste in them. There's the things that make our day, the things that ruin it and everything in-between. There's quite a bit of past, a measure of present and effort for the existence of a future. There's music and there is art. There's also weirdness ranging from the purely scientific, passing through the philosophic and reaching unto the peculiarly aesthetic (or contrary thereof). Basically there's lots of rant stemming from the realities in our minds, realities that, should it please the readers, they are welcome to be subjugated by.
Layla Roberts.
