Cast your thoughts back to the last ice age, for it is then that our tale begins.
Fairieland, you see, is a very cold place, a veritable winter wasteland. Its inhabitants don’t deal very well with heat. It is for this reason that the Good People aren’t so common in modern times, but back in the bad old days they flitted in and out of their Grand Doors to our world (and to many other worlds as well, but for those we humans neither had nor have no concern).
Showing posts with label secret history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label secret history. Show all posts
Friday, June 20, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
The Journeymen [D]
The Shifting Spirits
The Shifting Spirits are liars who are the sole survivors of a now-dead realm which was torn apart by outsiders— or they themselves are outsiders who have learned to coexist with Creation— or they were exiled from a prosperous series of timelines for their grave crimes— or they have achieved time travel and are working to ensure that the course of events which led to their existence will come to pass— or they are the servants of the Powers Major. Their forms are as fluid as water and revert to solidity with a thought, taking on any form which they would like.
The Shifting Spirits are liars who are the sole survivors of a now-dead realm which was torn apart by outsiders— or they themselves are outsiders who have learned to coexist with Creation— or they were exiled from a prosperous series of timelines for their grave crimes— or they have achieved time travel and are working to ensure that the course of events which led to their existence will come to pass— or they are the servants of the Powers Major. Their forms are as fluid as water and revert to solidity with a thought, taking on any form which they would like.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Idea: The Lizard People are not what you think [B]
Continued from Wednesday.
The reptoids of today are a miserable rabble compared to their illustrious forbears. They are scrambling. Their science has decayed over generations of imperfect transmission and many are looking for older records, hoping that we are advanced enough to finally reverse-engineer some of the more crucial principles and grant them either a way home or a weapon to secure their power here forever. We are interfertile, our two species, and the modern race of annunaki is more human than reptoid. The blood is thin, they think in ways and feel emotions foreign to their ancestors, and some are capable of only partial transformations. More and more are freaks, either trapped in a hybrid mishmash form or seemingly entirely without a trace of their starry heritage.
For the annunaki, the apocalypse came thousands of years ago.
The annunaki whisper to their children that they would have been worshiped as gods in the old order but they are impotent scions at best. The truth is that they would have no power, would be peons and footmen, so far have they degraded. And yet still they try to accomplish the dream of their ancestors, a second world order, now as the rising sun but modeled after the first of them all (and who knows what would happen if the old empire, still extant, came in contact with this world again).
And where would George fall into this? As his people have fallen, so has he. His alcoholism was real. His grief over his sister's death was real. Left to his own devices he would hold an anonymous life in a small town on no map. But his life was charted out for him no matter how he tried to drink himself away from it. Perhaps it was cowardly to go along in the end rather than reject it, but he couldn't follow his sister's path. Perhaps at least he could try to salvage something along the way.
And now he sits amid ruins, putting on a face for the world and his peers but secretly glad in a way that he failed to do all that they expected of him. He wonders how many of his peers are in his same position, dissatisfied but too afraid to do anything but follow orders- they've learned, and even the powerful ones know that they can't tear away from the group without reprisal. But they managed to ensure that unity too late in the game and a few of them decide to risk it anyway and sometimes even get away with it.
Meanwhile the bottle still calls to George, and he himself calls out at night to a God that he fervently wishes is real but knows could easily be just the persona of one of his own ancestors. It isn't a pretty life, but he never lied and told himself that he was strong enough to make it anything else.
Perhaps his grandchildren will live long enough to see the blood run out at last, and in that generation his bones will find rest as the plots of the annunaki finally crumble to a halt.
The reptoids of today are a miserable rabble compared to their illustrious forbears. They are scrambling. Their science has decayed over generations of imperfect transmission and many are looking for older records, hoping that we are advanced enough to finally reverse-engineer some of the more crucial principles and grant them either a way home or a weapon to secure their power here forever. We are interfertile, our two species, and the modern race of annunaki is more human than reptoid. The blood is thin, they think in ways and feel emotions foreign to their ancestors, and some are capable of only partial transformations. More and more are freaks, either trapped in a hybrid mishmash form or seemingly entirely without a trace of their starry heritage.
For the annunaki, the apocalypse came thousands of years ago.
The annunaki whisper to their children that they would have been worshiped as gods in the old order but they are impotent scions at best. The truth is that they would have no power, would be peons and footmen, so far have they degraded. And yet still they try to accomplish the dream of their ancestors, a second world order, now as the rising sun but modeled after the first of them all (and who knows what would happen if the old empire, still extant, came in contact with this world again).
And where would George fall into this? As his people have fallen, so has he. His alcoholism was real. His grief over his sister's death was real. Left to his own devices he would hold an anonymous life in a small town on no map. But his life was charted out for him no matter how he tried to drink himself away from it. Perhaps it was cowardly to go along in the end rather than reject it, but he couldn't follow his sister's path. Perhaps at least he could try to salvage something along the way.
And now he sits amid ruins, putting on a face for the world and his peers but secretly glad in a way that he failed to do all that they expected of him. He wonders how many of his peers are in his same position, dissatisfied but too afraid to do anything but follow orders- they've learned, and even the powerful ones know that they can't tear away from the group without reprisal. But they managed to ensure that unity too late in the game and a few of them decide to risk it anyway and sometimes even get away with it.
Meanwhile the bottle still calls to George, and he himself calls out at night to a God that he fervently wishes is real but knows could easily be just the persona of one of his own ancestors. It isn't a pretty life, but he never lied and told himself that he was strong enough to make it anything else.
Perhaps his grandchildren will live long enough to see the blood run out at last, and in that generation his bones will find rest as the plots of the annunaki finally crumble to a halt.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Idea: The Lizard People are not what you think [A]
I think that many men that have done bad things are men that were good men whose flaws overcame them. I don't think that every person that has done bad things would have gone down that road had they been able to foresee its end. Certainly, they at least don`t usually consider themselves bad men. Most people don't think themselves villains.
When I think of George W. Bush I think of a man who wanted to do the right thing (at least as he understood it) but failed, partly because he lost control over the situation (if you could say that he even had control once) and partly because his flaws got the better of him. Most people do end up that way, in that situation. Then you have David Icke, who thinks that Bush is descended from a lineage of shapeshifting blood-drinking reptilian aliens.
A part of me wonders: What if we`re both right? What if Dubya is a reptoid- but has lost control in a way that none of us hairless apes can imagine?
The reptilians know barely more than we do. There was a time when both of us were different from what we are now, but there was war in Heaven and we were the ones who lost. We found ourselves imprisoned, and then we forgot about everything. The reptoids were prison warders once, victors of the usurpation, but they either were betrayed by power-hungry underlings or were those rebellious underlings. Either way, they lost the second war and found themselves in the same prison that they had fashioned. And then their ancestors ran into a mad accident and were left, Robinson Crusoe-style, on this world, isolated from the galaxy-spanning empire that their fellows had created. Once usurpers in Heaven, they were now twice-fallen.
They don't have the industrial base to maintain or reproduce their technology, nor the numbers to maintain a stable breeding population, but they were able to act quickly enough to take control of the earliest city-states and install themselves as god-kings. They called themselves the annunaki. But a small cadre of castaway alien-demons does not a permanent occupying force make, and when they lost control they couldn't get it back. They've been trying for thousands of years to do so, and have occasionally gotten temporary footholds, but the job gets harder with every passing generation. Even when they were monarchs in Europe they couldn't take full advantage of the situation- they hide their nature and plans out of self-preservation rather than brotherhood and whenever they grow powerful enough some turn on the rest and progress is lost again.
Continued on Friday.
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When I think of George W. Bush I think of a man who wanted to do the right thing (at least as he understood it) but failed, partly because he lost control over the situation (if you could say that he even had control once) and partly because his flaws got the better of him. Most people do end up that way, in that situation. Then you have David Icke, who thinks that Bush is descended from a lineage of shapeshifting blood-drinking reptilian aliens.
A part of me wonders: What if we`re both right? What if Dubya is a reptoid- but has lost control in a way that none of us hairless apes can imagine?
The reptilians know barely more than we do. There was a time when both of us were different from what we are now, but there was war in Heaven and we were the ones who lost. We found ourselves imprisoned, and then we forgot about everything. The reptoids were prison warders once, victors of the usurpation, but they either were betrayed by power-hungry underlings or were those rebellious underlings. Either way, they lost the second war and found themselves in the same prison that they had fashioned. And then their ancestors ran into a mad accident and were left, Robinson Crusoe-style, on this world, isolated from the galaxy-spanning empire that their fellows had created. Once usurpers in Heaven, they were now twice-fallen.
They don't have the industrial base to maintain or reproduce their technology, nor the numbers to maintain a stable breeding population, but they were able to act quickly enough to take control of the earliest city-states and install themselves as god-kings. They called themselves the annunaki. But a small cadre of castaway alien-demons does not a permanent occupying force make, and when they lost control they couldn't get it back. They've been trying for thousands of years to do so, and have occasionally gotten temporary footholds, but the job gets harder with every passing generation. Even when they were monarchs in Europe they couldn't take full advantage of the situation- they hide their nature and plans out of self-preservation rather than brotherhood and whenever they grow powerful enough some turn on the rest and progress is lost again.
Continued on Friday.
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Friday, December 20, 2013
Genre Splash #3: The Brothers Grimm [B]
Continued from Wednesday
Godfather Death: This next is as much cautionary tale and historical parable as anything else, though there is some evidence that it is also based on a single incident and not invented wholesale. The titular figure is representative of the Serpent People, living as he does in catacombs beneath the earth and, like witches, already old by the time that man enters the scene. What is at the heart of the story is their relationship with man, alternately vicious and caring, retributive and mentoring. Early myths, such as that of Qayin the Serpent's Son reinforce the idea that the Serpent People took some interest in man's development. Though the witches bestowed their own form of writing to their servants they neither had any skill in nor use for the advanced sciences. Instead it was the Serpent People who, perhaps inspiring later stories of the Grigori or Watchers (which suggests interesting possibilities for interpreting the nephilim), taught these things to humankind. Most prized were the arts of medicine and alchemy, and these twin powers of regeneration and transformation have ever remained associated with the figure of the snake in our history.
Godfather Death: This next is as much cautionary tale and historical parable as anything else, though there is some evidence that it is also based on a single incident and not invented wholesale. The titular figure is representative of the Serpent People, living as he does in catacombs beneath the earth and, like witches, already old by the time that man enters the scene. What is at the heart of the story is their relationship with man, alternately vicious and caring, retributive and mentoring. Early myths, such as that of Qayin the Serpent's Son reinforce the idea that the Serpent People took some interest in man's development. Though the witches bestowed their own form of writing to their servants they neither had any skill in nor use for the advanced sciences. Instead it was the Serpent People who, perhaps inspiring later stories of the Grigori or Watchers (which suggests interesting possibilities for interpreting the nephilim), taught these things to humankind. Most prized were the arts of medicine and alchemy, and these twin powers of regeneration and transformation have ever remained associated with the figure of the snake in our history.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Genre Splash #3: The Brothers Grimm [A]
Challenge: Cosmic horror/fairy tales
The obvious idea: The Brothers Grimm.
Let's roll with that..
It seems that most stories featuring Brothers Grimm involve them being firsthand witnesses to their stories or at least contemporaries. If we remember that they collected the stories that they are associated with then something else, something hopefully a little more fresh, develops as a possibility. Rather than being investigators of the mythical and the unknown they are, so to speak, archaeologists. The stories happened long ago but that doesn't mean that everything about them has turned to dust. The cottage is crumbling and the children died of old age long ago but no creature of that witch's measure simply dies: a shadow of something still remains. The Brothers Grimm hunt down stories (which sometimes don't involve the supernatural, in fact), do what they can to put the matter to rest, and then commit it to writing. Their own predecessors didn't always put the problem down for good, after all, so they aren't foolish enough to assume that it was done right this time.
Following are treatments of a few of their stories.
The obvious idea: The Brothers Grimm.
Let's roll with that..
It seems that most stories featuring Brothers Grimm involve them being firsthand witnesses to their stories or at least contemporaries. If we remember that they collected the stories that they are associated with then something else, something hopefully a little more fresh, develops as a possibility. Rather than being investigators of the mythical and the unknown they are, so to speak, archaeologists. The stories happened long ago but that doesn't mean that everything about them has turned to dust. The cottage is crumbling and the children died of old age long ago but no creature of that witch's measure simply dies: a shadow of something still remains. The Brothers Grimm hunt down stories (which sometimes don't involve the supernatural, in fact), do what they can to put the matter to rest, and then commit it to writing. Their own predecessors didn't always put the problem down for good, after all, so they aren't foolish enough to assume that it was done right this time.
Following are treatments of a few of their stories.
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