The Howl

PRELUDE: An Ill-Aimed Throw

The grey shroud of black night
Drifted in zephyr’s embrace
Across the forsaken marsh
While sky-encompassing clouds
In utter darkness cloaked the land
As deluges torrential pelted the realms below
With black rain and dark even darker hail

No light
But an eye
Amber shield-breadth
Did illumine
This unearthly wasteland marsh
As a throng of Dwarves and an Elven passel
Did in a breath
Of fiery spittle
Their breath relinquish

Though of this throng
A few did the blast but scald
But in so valiant an end
These few
Luckless fortunates
The unseen horror did
With rending claws
And gnashing teeth
Its ravening,
Demon-spawned
Hunger sated

Trampled were the lowly marshweeds
And high splashed the waters
As felled low
Were noble warriors
Fighting blackness pure

One amongst this throng of unfortunates
Did the gods save for but their purpose yet unseen
Though what life and destiny at that moment
Was bestowed upon her soul
A curse most foul and pestilential
Found she as

The eye of the amber shield
Peered forth from depths of night
Beneath it, the gleam of a grin
Of a bloodstained maw stopped short
Of the elfmaid’s fair heart

Defiant stood she,
The pendant of her House
In full radiance now gloried
Upon her bosom
Lined with enchanted steel
Her grey robes swirled
As her tears unchecked
Through furious spells vented
And her raging sorrow
By sword strokes
Flowed

But for naught
Was this last stand
Though glorious it may seem
As in claw as in a hand
To the black dragon’s
Death-reeking face
Was she per force
Yet gently lifted
That eye-to-eye
Might they stand

Its yellowed gaze
Turned she back
With cold stare

But in that yellowed gaze
A seeing glass was hid
Of undulating waters
And true visions

She saw the tides
Of oceans of time
And a flood of pain
A life warped in a black flame,
A heart wrenched in agony
Love lost
Life gone forever
A flicker of hope
Amidst a maelstrom
Of chaos
And despair…
Despair…
Despair…

Through the waters
Cut a ripple
But on she gazed,
A-wondering

Stillness…

Then, the mirror of visions
Became a mirror of sight
For in that yellowed eye
Her own eyes gazed back at her
And seemingly
Her soul,
Clad in the same raiment
Was reaching out to her
From the depths of the yellowed eye

She then felt the grasp
Of uncounted ages,
The deafening whoosh
And roar of time
And again,
A love lost
And life nevermore

Upon a sudden,
Backward fell she
Unto and through
A cloud of sparkling oblivion
Darker than the night and
More black than the pits
Of Jok’Koth, the Abyss most foul

Backward fell she
Unto a tor moonlit
Gone were the darksome clouds
And the night was bathed in light
With all the heavenly hosts
Present to witness
Destiny, the fate
Of myriad realms unfolding,
Or was it just
A dark god’s black fancy?

For the Stars were held witness
To a contest beyond the grasp of time---
‘Twas an ancient battle waged ‘cross
Ages unbound and uncounted:
That of Light and Darkness
That then didst strive to harness
An ageless soul’s
Blood-wrought doom

In that moment
Wolves growled their howl
And their dire song
To all did bare.

Backward fell she
Unto a tor moonlit
Gone were the darksome clouds
And the night was bathed in light
Neither death-stench nor dragon-reek
Did her nostrils assail
But the clean
Smell
Of verdance

A terrible hunger now it was
That assailed her spirit
Such craving for flesh
That never had she dreamed possible
Now racked her maw

A spot of blood
Upon a nearby rock she smelt
But whose?
Her own.

Far away,
Yet clear,
Carried on
The midnight breeze
She heard a howl

Far away,
Yet clear,
Carried on the moonlight
She espied seated upon
A knoll akin to her perch
The lone form of a wolf

With her own howl
Now she let loose,
Long and sweet

Then bounded off,
Fur a-waving in the wind’s embrace
Howling…
Howling…
Howling…

Thus, she bounded off to her destiny:
Whatever new plot
The Godscribe
Had writ upon her rune.

--11/15-29/2004

PART I: The Curse of the Black Moon

The veil of blood
That clutched her soul
Parted their streams of rage
But that unto
Greater horror
Awake might she

Where once fair
Arms had been,
Where fair
Slender Elven figure
Once had been
Now hung, rose and fell
With every death-reeking breath
A form most foul
Of matted fur
And rending claws

But this new turn
Had she not time
To upon to think

For of a sudden
Smote was
Her shoulder by
A dart far-shot
By crossbow trained

Spun she upon the heel
And with
Haze-rid eyes,
Beheld this woe

‘Twas a youth
But shone in his eyes
A will of steel
Cloaked in tears

Another bolt he loosed
As ‘cross stone flags he glanced
Upon kith and kin
Swimming in
Swilling sea of
Scarlet sin,
Lifeless eyes
Forever unto
Oblivion staring

Our Elven maid
Thence too she glanced,
And in the turning glimpsed
A dripping coat
Of screaming scarlet hue
Upon her clawed hands
And such also
Was upon
What accursed fur she had

So she minded not
The rending pain
Of th’ avenger’s arrow
But rather to
Atonement’s humble bend
Her monstrous form
Did sink
Sink…
Sink…

So distant then she heard
Fletching’s whistle

No abyss
Desolate and barren
Her demise awaited
Nor did blissful paradise
Await her soul’s rise

But rather
To a consuming haze of blood
Was her will enthralled
Searing pain
Through her heart did lance
And waded she through
Eternity’s torment
Torment…
Torment…

Then
Blissful
Senselessness…

---11/29/2004-12/25/2004

PART 2: Awakenings

When once more
Awoke the maiden elf,
Great joy she felt
At turn of back
No fur she felt
Nor fangs nor claws
Nor abysmal rage
Of blood-red haze

A hail from nearby
Most affable she heard

Glanced she round
And saw
A blazing merry hearth
‘Bout which billowed
Hewn stones and carven roots
Of spreading trees,
Half of green, half of rock
All under
Sky’s roof, twilight awning

Hailed she was
Once more
Most affably
By host now sprung from shadow

The proud host,
A jovial Halfling
Of lilies crowned
And garbed
In a robe of
Stone scales
Strode forth
And stroked
The elf maiden’s
Curls away
With
Hand of warmth
And white flame

He then
Upon
A flatstone
Did sit
And of her besought
What name and errand
She had in this,
His vale and grove

With shock,
Numb from discovery
Flat stated she:

“I know not
Who I am
Nor whence came I
But all else:
Yea, memories
Account them fresh, I do”

Smiling, the Halfling host
Replied thus,
Though not
Without cackles few,
“For mine humor
Pardon I beg
For ‘tis writ plain upon
Thy medallion hung:
Thou art
Jaelann of House Vythranaii”

Star-dumb,
She thus
Then mumbled,
“I know not who I am…”

At this,
All demeanor
Of humor
Fled the Halfling
Thought he
Unto himself,
“Truly,
Is she
The one
In the
Prophecy?”

Turning to his supplicant
A mask of smiles
Wore he once more
And of her inquired,
“Pray tell, thou Elven maid
Art thou hungered,
Pray tell, Jaelann?
Wouldst thou
For berried broth
And honeyed brew
Give a golden chink
Or thy golden glee?”

And turned he
Upon these words,
Stood before the hearth

And to the utter astonishment
Of the Daughter of Vythranaii
From hearth’s roiling
Steam so thin
Conjured the Halfling Druid
A cauldron of earthen shade
And from the shelf
Of a bough low-hung
Took he a bowl
Of wooden husk,
This he dipped
In cauldron’s steaming stew
And in a swirl
Of chinking stone,
His swirling cloaked robes
Of evershifting myriad hues
Presented he
This meal
Unto the famished Jaelann.

“Fret thou not, fair maid
For I have supped
Ere now,
Ere thy coming”,
Quoth he.

And from
His robe’s folds
Drew he forth
Twain flasks of horn
With inlays
Of golden filigree born,
Once more quoth he,
“Drink thou herefrom
Of the land’s grandest ale
And let an elixir of flame
Through thy veins course.”

But in so doing,
Reaching for
The pocket
Hid within the folds,
Disclosed he his chest
Whereupon was espied
By elfmaid now troubled,
An image graven
By needled ink,
An image graven
Of shadow-born
Dragon of twain heads
Upon a white sun
Wreathed in a
Golden ring aflame,

And also with
The flasks’ drawing forth
From within robe’s folds
Tumbled out
A pendant of
The same design and devise,
Bound with sparkling chain of black fur.

Though her heart was troubled,
Jaelann bade her worry
For but a while to tarry
As with storm’s fury,
She clave unto
The steaming stew

But once of sup
Hadst she done
Enquired then she
Of her arms and
Treasured things ere
She was found
And brought
To this glade
Of deep mystery

Full face of sorrow
Turned now
The Druid to
Elfmaid’s face,
“Fair maid
Grieve thou not overmuch
Though of much sorrow
Be this
Mine tale of thee
For whence I found thee
Was a knoll
Of willows withered weeping crowned
In gore most loathsome bedecked
And cloaked in stagnant blood,
‘Twas there I found thee
Prostrate o’er thy victim’s crumpled form
Though pinned wert thou
By twain, nay three
Bolts from a crossbow shot…”

But now Jaelann
Her face didst twist
In rage, in guilt
And thus
With flowing tears,

“Wherefore didst thou
Slay me not?
‘Twas thou who’d seen
With thy own eyes
What sorrow hadst I wrought
And the abomination
That truly was mine self,
And truly what now I am,
Thou hadst seen mine sin
And done naught
But loose a plague upon
The world of the living…

Gaze thou yond!
Unto the sky gaze thou!
See, the clouds lift
And apart do they drift,
Their rifts now
To point of breaking cleft!
Mine curse
Its fiendish head
Doth once more rear…
O! … Glimpse thou
Yond Moon’s loathsome rictus

Once more shalt I be smote
By that sweet madness…
Slay me! Slay me!
Slay me ere
I change
And all gratitude to thee
Upon waters to scribe
And thee I smite
To force thy hand
To rid land
Of a blight unholy!”

Quoth then the Halfling unperturbed,
“Ah, fair maid,
‘Tis true indeed
That much ill
Hadst I done the world
In upon thee
Having mercy

Yet such is mine charge
Thy pardon I beg not
Though deceived I thee
That of this charge
I spoke not quickly of

For amongst the Silver Stalwarts
Am I counted,
A corps of
Q’daz Narr-jahann’s clerics,
Q’daz Narr-jahann,
The Matron of Healing,
And Queen of the Wilds,
And Spirits Free
Who seek the demise of lycanthropy
In all the guises it partakes,

But, know thou:
Shunned and hunted
Am I
By my Order’s mighty ones

For, though for Good
Was our temple’s cause,
Not all clerics
Trod the path of light
Some delight in slaying
And thus do they stray;
Others sell
To whom they will
Their blades’ sacredness
And follow but where
The coin meandereth
For by the vulgar tongue
The land roam
With chink of gold
And belly’s swell

This evil race I betrayed,
And followed whither led
The calling of the Goddess
In mine heart

And thou needst not fear
For yond moon
Be Milady’s glorious face
She smiles upon thee…”

Wonderment shone
White stars,
Through the maiden’s eyes

But then she trembled
When unto mind
Was brought once more
The image graven
Upon the host’s flesh
And furred steel
The image graven
In shadowed ink
Of the twain
Helm spined firedrake,
Upon a white sun rampant

Some insight unbidden
Then to her heart didst come
Fear she did
What portent
This sigil, seemingly
An ill omen that didst boil her blood

Feared she then her host
For some darkness
Knew she then
Didst lurk
Behind
His eyes
Of brimming cheer

Tried she then
To still her limbs a-quaver
But this, the Halfling noted
And once more didst proffer
The horn of brew

Her will she rallied
And parried the mead
With bold stare
And bolder tongue,

“Yea, thou hast my gratitude
And of thee, O savior
Fain would I know more
Verily, by thy grace given me,
Such pittance of memory
Doth trickle back unto
Mine soulflame
Thus, I recall
That the mighty gods all,
Sigils peculiar,
Possess they do

Thus, of thee,
I ask,
What glorious sign
Dost Q’daz,
Thy gracious matron bear?”

Wide gaped
The priest’s eyes
For but a moment fleeting

Drew he forth
The firedrake’s branded
Black medallion
And thusly didst speak:

“Know thou, this,
Ere beyond
Mine bounds
Thou wander
That all lands
‘Cross the mere
And the fen of fog
Most unbreakable,
From yond Sea
Of Sand in the East
To the Canyon of Shadows
Ever-shifting
And all mortals therein
To a great dragon belong

An overlord black, he is
Most wicked of tyrants,
Mighty in magic,
And in strength
Of fang and claw,
Sinews blazing,
And a maw
Of spittle sizzling
Unmatched

Midst the blackest marsh marches
The ancient wyrm doth lurk
Waylaying all for but
The joyous kill

Ancient terror,
Hight the wyrm is
By many names:

To the Bearded Folk, the Dwarves a-delving
Urthalgor the Tormenting Trough, he is
Fetedicaspitargrim the Black Flame
Firgnallmor to the Gnomes, the Discord Incarnate
To goblin brood, Gith-gahk’mar he is, the Sunless Light
Lugjarz, the blooded Orcs hail him,
The Great Black One, the Chief of Chiefs
And by but one name hight he,
In all the tongues of men,
Ganath, the Lord of Mists, Bringer of Shadowed Death

Aye,
Aye.

Yet a few winters back
The world was rocked
By a rune unmade:
To his subjects he flew
And fair law he gave
But only to all
Who bear his sign…”

Whereupon shook he forth
The beastly sign
Changed its hue and frame and form
Till fair it turned, a golden moon adorned,
With spreading tree and bough and bow
And rampant silver sword;
No longer foul and black didst reek
The binding chain
There now didst gleam
A silken mithril twine

His breath renewed,
Thus spake he once more,
“Gaze thou,
And see
‘Tis what thou seekest,
And yea,
What thou doubtest...

Fallen so far are the Elven bloodlines olden
That thou trusteth not
Thy true and sworn
Allies and friends,
We the hole delvers?”

Through all the fair rebuke,
Thought she but naught
And beclouded her mind became,
For, by her blood arcane,
And unknowing will,
Of mem’ries breaking
A chain of spells,
Iill-wrought, ill-willed
Divined she then
Her kindly host’s
Thoughts impure,
That beneath smiling eyes
And courteous gallantry,
Lurked there a serpent,
Of envenomed words
And foul deeds awaiting

Quoth she thusly,
With mighty
Feigned yawn,
And flutt’ring
Fawning scrape:

“Yea then, sirrah,
It must be that
Fiend-wrought
Bond of tainted
Moonbeams
Upon my blood
That goadeth me
To act so brutishly
Towards thee,
O kindly host,
Mayest I know thy name,
That thou ever shalt
By golden elven voices be praised,
‘Mongst th’roll of honored ancestors
And holy gods afire?”,

Thus crooned she
Soothingly,
Or so she hoped,
That with the giving of the name
Might power also pass
From host to supplicant
Of enchantment, the enchaining
Spell be bound upon
The faithless mind…


--12/25/2004-11/17/2006

PART 3: Enlightened Shadows

‘Tis ever said
That flattery is
A most deadly snare---
For thusly charmed,
Beguiled indeed
By power arcane,
Beyond sweetened
Tongue the Druid’s
Heart to bleed
Th ’Halfling

Thereupon didst spout
And loudly too,
As though he swayed wi’brew

His name and, aye,
Forthwith sang he his tale
Of woes unnumbered and many-a lie,

“I am, O fair maiden fallen
Just as thou seest me,
A wretch worse than thou, if such may be…

Once, in my days
Of golden youth
My tribe lived in the forests free
And wastelands wild.
We pranced beneath
Many skies unseen
By those who live
Their lives within walls
Of mortar and stone,
Of steel and smoke.

Rode we our dogs
Across seas of grass so green
And ferns that flow

We counted not the suns that sang
Nor the rivers t’laughed away
Upon our merry way---
Counted we, them not
But the joy that they brought
To anyone’s heart,
Aye, ‘tis what I miss
Of the days good and gold

There came a time,
When darkness fell
Upon our hearts,
Though when it did,
We knew it not---

Kin we had who came,
O’er hill and dale
Much laden with scaled kine
And poured they their bitter ale
Upon our hearts,
Such pleasures vain indeed
Tickled our tongues that ne’er before
Had such high born luxuries tasted

Came we then with them
To olden Ydronaii’s
Walls of gold and streets of pearl
At many marvels mystic we wondered

Ever so, did seasons pass
Till forsook we then the swards of green
Withered then, our flowered fanes
And myriad meadows of majesty

Sought we then the tinkling purse
Golden was the snare
So too--- the crown upon our hair
The treasure carriage became our hearse








--03/25/2006-12/23/2006