Archive for January, 2015

Athena & Odin

A cold and stormy winter night had fallen onto the forest where Athena the barn owl lives. She wanted to get to town, the little boy could hardly fall asleep without her cuddling him.
But snowfall was dense, she could not see where to go! The roads and sidewalks were covered under a thick blanket of snow as well. Her friends Teddy the bear and Otto Ferdinand the frog, were fast asleep in their cosy beds.
Desperate she flew around the edge of the forest, how could she get to the little boy? A hoot, much like her own, startled her. “He-hello?” She hooted back.
“Hello.” Barely visible against the snow a white owl perched on a branch not far. Curious she sat down next to him. “I’m Athena, the barn owl. I need to find my way to the little boy, he can’t sleep without me by his side!”
“I’m Odin, the snow owl. I can show you the way, in this weather I can find it easily.” He hooted with a smile in his eyes.
Athena flew right behind him, through gusts of wind, filled with flakes of snow. Over hilltops, streets and cops of trees, covered thickly with snow. She had to keep her eyes on Odin’s darker feathers, or else she might have lost him white against white.
“Here!” He hooted at a windowsill, eagerly small hands reached out. “We have arrived.”
Both he and Athena were grabbed, and held tightly against a tiny chest, with care and love until there was nothing but a night’s well deserved rest.


Floral/Fungal Journal – 3 Travels (ep04)

Sycena listened carefully to the words of the human as she continued to tell her of rumors about the Albin who supposedly had a way out of the dilemma. “Word is that they have an artifact called an eye or an ord with which to make a defense against the invasion. But also that they are looking for another artifact, a root of some sorts.” Sycenas attention was raised, roots sounded like something she was interested in. She and all her people. Many wondered where they had come from, floral people themselves as well as others. “But those are rumors, they probably aren’t even true.” Hanna smirked, hoping they were true, as the circle either had no idea how to fend off the impending invasion, or the circle left the majority of its members in the dark.   Outside Fethomus’ hut was a small bench of stone, well within earshot of the fire at the village center. Nicodia listened carefully to the two women converse, as her father tried to keep her in the dark about the outside world. Some of the young growth of the village had developed an interest in the world and abandoned the village shortly after the fungal guards retreat. Fethomus feared his daughter might as well. “that is at least the legend of the sandtree. Whether it truly is our origin, I don’t know, but that is how the legend has it.” Sycena sighed, she and Hanna knew that they had an audience. “I will soon depart, other villages might have loved ones they want looked after in case they wound up in the fungal guards camps.” Hanna prepared her bag as pillow and her cape as blanket, right where she had sat, much to the surprise of Sycena. Reluctantly she laid down too. “You will leave us after the sun has risen?” “Yes, though this is an island, it’s vast and I don’t have much help.”   Sycena raised her head into the changing wind. The steady northward breeze turned with the winds from the west. “Summer will arrive soon. The wind is changing.” she stated dryly, watching a firefly in the distance.   Nicodia sighed softly, after the voices had stayed silent for some time. Careful as to not nake a sound she got up from the bench. Her mind was set, the world her father had to offr was to small, she wanted more, as the others who had left the village. Gusts of wind brought only the fresh nightly smell of the forest, the grasses and flowers, blooms and mosses, even the bonds, creeks and rivers. Faintly the last breezes from the south carry a dry note of sand and sun, mixing with tbe western breezes of the sea, salt and watervapor carrying smells of Seaweed, ships, sailors of Man and Albin, cargo and imprisoned fungal guards. Nicodia watched the wind carry off a leaf that had been torn from where it grew.

Floral/Fungal Journal – 3 Travels (ep03)

“But I have to say it is too bad your people wouldn’t trade the recipe for the nectar. Even with all this distrust, we would not turn against you, nor would we let it fall into the hands of anyone who might.” the woman who had spoken with Hanna the moment before turned to Fethomus, who looked at her. All of a sudden the entirety of the assembled people had an amused smirk on their faces. “You dont know where the nectar comes from?” she chuckled. Raising one eyebrow Hanna shook her head, but feared the worst. The floral woman leaned in forming a funnel with her hands to whisper in Hannas ear. Surprise, as well as a little disgust appeared on her face, much the entertainment of the others. “I think I won’t ever touch it again.” Hanna shook herself in disgust, while the entire assembly laughed in an amused manner. “The Albin found out ages ago, but kept it secret, in its pure form the nectar has some side effects, so I hope we can count on your discretion as well?” Hanna nodded, she was torn whether she wanted to know about these side effects or not. “For today we have shocked our guest enough, I think.” Fethomus got up, turning to his hut. Basically consisting of beds, a fire place and a nursing patch. “At least I will end my day.” “The Jal’bothan has an effect on men, it stimulates their passion and lust, in male carnals like yourself, it amplifies the lust to unknown heights.” Sycena sat at the fire with Hanna long after Fethomus had gone to bed, most of the villagers had left soon after, until only Hanna and Sycena were left. “I think I have heard enough.” Hanna laughed, after Sycena elaborated how the Nectar can sometimes be used to glue man and woman together in the act, in order to increase the likelihood of fertilisation.Both women sat at the dying fire staring into the ever decreasing flames. Hanna had shared the news she had received from the circle, everything about the vanishing magic, the refugees from the realm of the demons as the sphinxes were marching through it in order to return to the world, and why it was thus important to supply the mages of man and Albin with nectar. “I have heard of heros all my life,” Hanna sighed, wondering she stared at the charred logs, “but not one of them was a simple man who had saved the world, or what ever was at stake, by doing his mundane tasks.” suddenly she felt Sycenas cool hand on her own. “You have.” she smiled. “Every Floral woman that gives your people her Jal’bothan. I can think of no deed more mundane than harvesting your own nectar.” Hanna begun smiling faintly. “Your people, who farm and hunt for troops and mages, who mine minerals, forge them, weave clothing from fiber and fur, who are doing their mundane task day in, day out, supplying you with food, clothes and weaponry, making the resistance against the sphinxes possible. They are heroes!”Hannas smile deteriorated away. “Unnamed heroes.” she sighed, but squeezed the reassuring hand.”Now you know much more about our kind than we know of the world. Tell me what is happening out side our island?” she ebded the sentence abruptly, a few seasons ago she and others would have said “island paradise”, the invasion of the fungal guards had changed that, until all wounds healed, none of the inhabitants of Both’anah would call their home paradise. “Magic has vanished as you know, that alone would leave our kind in chaos, the circle has declined from an organization of mages and religious institution, into a religious institution only.” she pointed at the tattoo of a circle on her wrist as she spoke. “The scholars think that this is a telltale sign that an ancient enemy of all life is preparing to return, the sphinxes. All magic around them withers. Apparently the demons who share a realm with them think so too, trying to invade our world, prior to the vanishing of all magic. Those who stayed here turned mortal. One even died after her wings became redundant!” she remembered reports from a nunnary near Cliffton.

The golden stair…

…as we all know, negative energies like hatred and envy are assoicated with fire and heat.
So they ascend, being clenased by the golden stair, they condensate on top and descend down again as pure bliss, luck and joy!

That is why churches are so tall, in order to allow for the negativity of people to ascend, be cleansed and descend again, purified and clean. An Archangel told me as I channeled at the foot of these stairs.

Great fact, the stairs work at the top level of a building, like a penthouse, or in the open, and every other storey. On the upper most etage the negativity of all the other tendants ascends to you and spoils the atmosphere. Hence it is imperative to cleanse it. The great thing about stair-magick is that, if you stand at the foot of the stairs the only way is up, and they represent an invitiation to the forces above to come to you! Since the only way you can go from the top of stairs, is down.

Order now, stocks are limited for the “golden stairs of bliss™©®”

If you fell for this, you deserve being robbed of your money by frauds

Topical (Charlie Hebdo)

In many places of the modern world we (mankind) have ditched silly, stupid and idiotic religous ideals and beliefs in favor of humanistic ideals and scientifically proven facts.
All the while we still kept believing in what ever looney shit we believed in before.

But that separation of fairytales about an invisible and omnipotent space daddy, and the real world that we all share with one another, allowed us to poke fun at the fairytales.
It allowed us to step back from what we believe(d) in and study it with a smirk on the face, perhaps even laugh at it. I mean, come on, a talking snake, a magic tree, a rib woman and a naked dude?
Really? XD

It is that separation of fairytales and real world that allowed us to proceed away from the-earth-is-flat-and-is-the-center-of-the-universe and embrace the truth about the universe, and our humbling, insignificant place in it. That separation allowed us to review the current state with criticism, and that criticism often came in the form of satire. Through that critical look on the current state we gained insghts, and changed what needed changing, so we came to where we are at now.

If there truly is an omnipotent being that shat out the universe in some wet dream, it doesn’t give a crap about us.
About you, about me.
If some maniac in the friggin desert has a drug or seizure induced dream about weird ghosts and gods, that omnipotent entity doesn’t give a rat’s hairy ass about it, nor was it involved, as it – as previously mentioned – doesn’t care about this insignificant ape creature that was too dumb to stay in the tree.
Therefore, the same omnipotent thing out there, cares even less (and much less endorses) some insignificant oxygen wasting sack of organs killing another sack of organs of equal importance, that just happens to believe something else, or nothing at all.

Right now, the situation in Europe is already tense. There is much hate, and even more potential for hatred. Recent events have fueled this, like pouring gasoline in a flame.
Extremists always spoil things.
This is why we can’t have nice things.

Stand up, against extremism.
But refrain from becoming an extremist yourself. If you participate in any form of backlash against an entire culture/religion/etc. you are the same despicable scum that got you enraged in the first place. This is why we can’t have nice things, too.

Later today, I’ll post the thing I had originally planned for today, some poking fun at spiritual non-sense, that I made up during research for my Christmas Calendar 2014.

Floral/Fungal Journal – 3 Travels (ep02)

He stood at the point where the Albin had walked off, staring in their direction for some time. Trying to shake off the anger he still felt for any fungal he hasted homeward. His daughter would surely be waiting for him, filled with sorrow. Half of his village would. Wishing his wife would still be with them he approached the simple huts in the forest, he also longed for his best friend to still be alive. The two of them had fought against the invaders, a concept that had previously been unknown to the formerly pacifist floral people. “Father!” “Nicodia! It was just Albin with fungal fugitives!” he calmed her and the others as they approached him. Only at certain moments did he realize how many people were missing. At least half of the village had either been killed or taken away. His best rriend and his wife among those who had been killed, his daughter had avoided capture due to her young age. He stopped dead in his tracks as he wanted to march on. There was a foreigner.”Excuse my intrusion.” the human woman took a gentle bow. “I am Hanna, a representative of the circle.” looking her up and down with disdain he sighed. “And what can we do for you? Let me guess, Jal’bothan, or Nectar as it is called?”Hanna shook her head raising her hands in a defensive manner, to show she did not pose a threat. “I am here to ask for the names of people who had been robbed, they might be in camps the guards have, or had, so they can be found faster!” Grunting he turned to his daughter, the peaceful look in her eyes calmed him. For all the horrors she had witnessed during the brief occupation she still was willing to trust strangers.”Not one of my family had been taken, they are either here,” he stroked his daughters head, “or they are dead.” his hand pointed vaguely in the direction of a mound of earth at the edge of the village. A tall oak grew out of it. “That is the tree of the dead, in case you didn’t know.”Slowly Hanna inched away from mound and tree, although she had heard of it, she had not realized that it was that tree. “I am sorry to hear that.” she slowly regained her composure. Most of the floral people hid their scorn for foreigners, especially thoise who would make use of the nectar like Hanna herself, but the man she faced at that moment, he was rather upfront with it. “Right after the Albin, aided by your people, drove off the fungal guards the Albin priests and the circle descended down upon us like locusts. You desire to leech off with trade what the fungal guards tried to take by force.” Fethomus, as he had introduced himself, explained his scorn for Hanna over a cup of tea. “At least that is how I feel about it.” An approving mumble went through the ranks of the gathered floral people around him. Hanna looked at the faces around her”I understand your feelings, as I have stated already, my mission is one of aid, not of purchase.” she sipped from the tea. In all honesty to herself she admitted that she longed for the nectar a great deal, she had not received any of the highly scarce rations. Just as Fethomus had said it, not nany of the floral natives were eager to trade for it. Like other mages of any species she felt withdrawal since magic had disappeared. “We are grateful for your support, but please understand that we are distrustful of strangers right now.” a woman had turned to her, attempting to smile friendly.”I can understand, my grandparents had been driven off by border dispute amongst our nations, they were distrustful too.” she felt for the small bundle of sheets in her pocket. Her mother had made it for her when she first showed talent for magic. She then slipped it into Hannas luggage when the circle came to raise the child. The pages detailed the lives of Hannas parents, grandparents and siblings up to the point when she was taken in by the circle.  

Floral/Fungal Journal – 3 Travels (ep01)

Soft winds graced the thick vegetation from the sea, gently rustling green leaves whispered tales of spring. Heavy clouds of sweet smells, risen from blossoms and flowers, danced, invisible to the eye, in the gusts, crossing the kind clearings of the dense forest. Wandering and dispersing in the process, mixing with the smells of different blossoms, or the moldy odors of the dark forest. “Smells like spring!” smiling, with her nose in the wind, a young woman with bright green hair and fair skin turned to her father. “It sure does.” he returned her smile but then stopped his activity, slowly he put down the hark and walked over to her. In spring and summer he and his people used photosynthesis but in fall and winter they needed food to sustain themselves. Food they hunted or grew in spring and summer. “Do you smell that moldy note?” once again she put her nose into the air. “Yes.” “It is stronger than usual.” he whispered, looking in the direction the south eastern winds came from. “Run home.” he whispered, sending her in the direction the wind blew in, slowly he returned to his tool, he didn’t trust the winds, or rather the smell they carried. Too recent was the memory of the fungal guards invasion, their genocide on nales and enslavement of females. And too strong was his readiness to fight. Concealed under his simple clothing he felt the reassuring presence of the dagger and the three throwing knives, holding his hark so he could quickly grab the needed weapon he continued working for a few moments, intending to return home too after having fooled any fungal guards that might still roam the vicinity. Footsteps, paired with clattering weapons approached. “Fair day!” he greeted the Albin group. In the midst of the twelve people was a group of halfa dozen fungal warriors, wearing the insignia of the fungalguards. Obviosly captives. “Fair day.” the leading priestess returned the greeting. “We are escorting these to the port of Both’maihm, they have been spying on our settlement in Naga’na.” she added noticing the curious gaze of the floral farmer. He didn’t like any of the strangers tbat had encroached on the island nation lately, all of them were solely interested in the nectar, although both Albin and Humans pursued their need for it via trade, as opposed to the fungal guard’s slavery. “Good to know the guards are being apprehended where ever they tread.” he sighed with a hint if relief, but also the desire to take out his weapons and strike at the hated fungal warriors. “What happens to them once they left the harbour?” he hoped to hear that they wouldn’t leave it alive, but was slightly disappointed to learn they were brought to an internment camp the Albin had erected with human allies and representatives from the  fungal high command. Little did he care for internal fungal quarrel, the fact meant little to him, that the fungal guards were remnants of the old fungus guard who desired to reawaken the giant subterranean fungus, in direct contrast to the majority of the fungal people who enjoyed their lives as free people. Although there was an ambassador of the high command at Both’maihm he couldn’t imagine seeing any of the fungus people as anything but an enemy. “We must part ways here.” the priestess smiled while wishing him again a fair day. All the while he had walked with the convoy he was submerged in thought, unable to keep up the conversation with the Albin who had arrived on Both’anah with a supply ship from the south, so they had to cross the island nation.