The Obsidian Spire
Would you like to react to this message? Create an account in a few clicks or log in to continue.

Go down
Spire Guardian
Spire Guardian
Posts : 88
Points : 185
Join date : 2021-05-21
Age : 20
Location : Astral Texas

Unique mythology of your true life Empty Unique mythology of your true life

Wed Jun 02, 2021 2:51 am
•I know for many who are alterhuman, there are stories to tell of cultures and myths that only you can speak to the world. I’m curious to know what mythology lies in your world, and how exactly you feel about it. There is so much mythology upon Aiisha’Piivaanakkshaa O’ Creaa’viirtaarkaal that I’m going to be replying to this thread more than a few times. However, this time I’ll actually write about the mythology of ravens within the eternal kingdom of the void, as told by my draconian sister, Vaal’etherriiaa!....
• I’ll give a more detailed run-down on raven mythology upon Aiisha’Piivaanakkshaa O’ Creaa’viirtaarkaal! I like taking about spiritual subjects anyways..... What I said about ravens being the guides of the lost, is definitely something that physical ravens do, not just spirit ravens. They can see the essence of a ghost/spirit, and because they feast on the corpses of those that have died alone and lost in the many twisting and unending landscapes upon home in the eternal kingdom, they feel an obligation to help the spirits whose bodies they have consumed. With wisdom comes the empathy to do the right thing, to give back to the one who has given the ultimate sacrifice for you. Ravens can also physically touch a spirit (that sentence in of itself is an oxymoron, or whatever people call the irony) because they are so deeply connected with the spectral realms and the essence of the dead. I actually don’t have a raven guardian myself, however I do have a phoenixian guardian who is part of the dark essence of both the earth and the sky (an abyssal realms spiritual concept). Ravens aren’t called such upon our home world, however their name means “devourer of the dead”, because they feast upon the dead. The word scavenger is not used for a creature that has dignity..
• As for the wisdom part, ravens are curious creatures, they seek what is new to them, and through social gatherings they share the stories of what they have found, hence passing down wisdom from generation to generation of ravens. It’s more of an interest if anything, and it’s not something truly inherent, (though I suppose the will and the curiosity to collect wisdom is inherent, though not the knowledge itself). The greatest stories are told by the ravens who listens to all the world’s tales, and listens to the stories told in secrecy and silence. Ravens tell the greatest and most accurate stories of battle, because they watch the battlefield for the wounded to fall and die, so that they may feast on their bloodied flesh. They are the natural historians of the world, and because of their interest in the world of darkness, and their connection to it, some ravens collect only that. Ravens have different tastes, and a lot of them include the dark and the macabre.
• For the redemption aspect, because a raven has heard so many stories of the evil and the dark, they understand that some grave mistakes are not due to true malice, though from misguidance and hidden anger. A raven calls to the one who has committed grave sins, reminding them of their true potential. Often the ravens will fly and lead the sinful one to a place where they can find a start to the path of redemption they seek. Ravens seek to help, because they know that truly, not all is what it seems, and it takes the wisdom to judge each situation in order to understand that. Though a raven will mock and laugh at the evil and the wicked, not allowing someone so vile to even achieve a single step towards redemption. Misery is what they want to see in the evil and the vile, and laughing at them until their death is the final happiness to them. The raven stares into the darkness of the void, though some dare not look too long lest their minds become ruffled with fear and anguish. However culturally, they have an affinity with the void and the great darkness. Their feathers are black as the darkest void, and give the shimmers of celestial stars and drifting stardust.
• They use the stars to guide them through the night, and see them as the great balls of fire that create pinpricks in the endless night. They truly respect the power of the endless stars that create a peaceful image in a planetary night. However, they are far more connected with the night itself.... and the moon. The figures of the night are held dear to their hearts, though it is the blackness itself that is their true connection to this world. Among the moon their feathers shine and unleash the light that is hidden within the seemingly endless black. The lunar eclipse is when a raven become most in tune with the night and the spirit realm. When they become most in tune with the essence of themselves. Because of their inherent connection to the night, the void, and all the dark forces of existence, in rituals their feathers are used to allow someone to become more connected or in tune with the forces of the dark. It’s really only when someone respectfully uses a raven feather (or any kind of material really that relates to the dark forces) that a practitioner can become more in tune with the realms of dark. Doing something disrespectful or wrong leads to a curse.
• As for their connection with the abyssal realms?.... Ravens don’t have any connection to the abyssal realms, so that’s why I don’t have a raven guardian. Some phoenixians have the potential to become connected to the abyssal realms however. The abyssal realms are the realms where fire, the aspects of death, and destroyed souls originate. It’s also where the infernal fires of the deep earth connect with original realm of fire.
Posts : 29
Points : 39
Join date : 2021-05-29
Location : Pacific Northwest

Unique mythology of your true life Empty Dragonic Mythology of Huyeana Pt1 (of probably lots as I think of them)

Wed Jun 02, 2021 8:35 pm
I'm probably going to reply to this topic multiple times as well. Mythology is hard for me to separate from what is accepted fact in my home world and community. We don't have a ton of "mythology" in the classic human sense of the word, because we don't generally write fiction or share fictional stories. We also have a fairly accurate method of preserving history, as we inherit memories from our ancestors. However, those memories do get hazier and hazier the further from the source we get. Today, I think I will share what my ancestral memories have told me of the earliest point in history when my race connected peacefully with the humanoid Huyeans we share our planet with. I'm not sure how coherent this will be. I've never tried to write it down before. Everything I remember is in the form of flashes of memory, sensations, images, words, faces. I'll do my best to create a narrative that can be followed.

In the dawn of our race, we were the dominant ones. We ruled all, we were the masters. There were no others. We ruled land and sky and sea, taking from it what we needed and returning to it our very essences upon our extinguishment.
In those days, even dragons were not united. We lived in family groups and fought over territory and mates. Though we now know that our natural life-span can exceed 7,000 years, back then it was rare for a dragon to live past 100 years. A dragon's purpose was to protect the eggs, hatchlings, and the fledglings, to hunt, and to mate. When those things had been accomplished, it was a life well-lived, no matter how short.
We were forced to change when another race appeared in our lives. They were small, hairless, and walked upon two legs. Early on, we hunted them as we hunted all things that moved and breathed. They were just a new food, nothing more.
But they surprised us. Soon, they were not so defenseless against our claws and teeth. They banded together in groups, much as we did. They changed the land around them. They created fortifications for themselves. No longer could we hunt them with ease. The only way to get them out of their stone and wood dwellings was to flush them out with our elemental powers. This had it's troubles, too. Fire tended to destroy the delicious flesh of our prey, render it dry and crisp. Water tended to flush them away, and often they had already begun to rot by the time we could bring the hatchlings to feed. Ice worked well enough, but we could not remove the meat from their shelters once frozen solid, as we could not fit. Destroying their stone dwellings with powers over the earth could gain us access, but often they were crushed and their juices spilled. There was no point in hunting them so, when there was easier prey about. We left them be.
Perhaps it was a mistake. They remembered us hunting them, harrying them. They, unlike all other prey, held a grudge. They, unlike all others before them, even us, learned to make themselves more than nature had made them to be. Their shelters were but the first of their creations. Next came sharpened sticks, with a knapped point of stone. They did little to harm adult dragons, as our scales were too thick and too strong to be pierced except in very small places hard to reach. But our hatchlings were not so fortunate. Soon, our prey hunted us! It was no longer only other dragons we must fight for survival, but these creatures too!
We were faced with the extinguishment of our future, our hatchlings. We could not fight these battles against our own and against these creatures. There was only one choice. Dragons set aside long traditions of battles for dominance, and banded together. Together, we had the numbers. Together, we would survive.
Yet once again, we were surprised. We thought ourselves secure. These creatures could not take our hatchlings anymore, for we worked to protect and feed them as a great group. But we had underestimated their cleverness, and their ability to change the world around them. They came one day with new sticks. Smaller, harder. Their points gleamed in the sun. These points pierced even the oldest dragon's scale. Blood ran thick on the ground. The air was full of screams, from both sides. The battle was horrific, and in the aftermath, both sides were left licking wounds and nursing grudges.
For generations, we fought against them. They hunted us with ever-growing prowess. Their tools continued to improve. They felled us with rocks hurled from great contraptions. They crafted devices to hurl spears at flying dragons, with weights attached. Many were brought down and butchered. It seemed these creatures had developed a taste for dragon flesh and blood. So much of their time was devoted to hunting us. So much of our time was devoted to hiding from them.
No longer were we the masters of all. We were prey, alike the rest.
Our extinction was not to be, however. As it is written by our chroniclers and recalled by all living dragons, all it takes is one who thinks differently to turn the tides. So it was in this case. One of the race of our hunters thought differently. Her name has been lost, but her face burns within all dragon minds even now. A fair-colored face, framed with golden hair, and eyes the color of the sky. She was a mighty hunter in her own right, and carried on the legacy of her people well. Until one day, she spared a dragon. A young dragon who had been fledged but a few months. Purple of scale, and orange of eyes was she. She came from a time when we did not yet give names or share them. We were our own minds, and our identities were known, and it was enough. A secret friendship grew. Curiosity, gratitude, these drove them together. Still, outside their secret world, the fighting and the hatred continued.
The fighting ended at last when, with great courage, the two friends dared to bring their friendship out of the shadows. The purple dragon permitted her friend to climb atop her back, and brought her to her family. For reasons we no longer remember, they did not kill her, but listened. They were amazed that this creature, whose ancestors they had hunted and who had hunted them all their lives, could understand mind-speech. For the first time, dragons let go of their hatred.
More courage yet was needed for the next step. Our purple sister dared risk her life for the sake of her kin, and walked side-by-side with her friend into an encampment of our enemies. She was not slain. The people of the camp were stunned that their prey could speak with them.
It was the beginning of change. Many more changes must come. Many on both sides refused to trust the other. Many of the hunters refused to give up their ways. Many of the prey refused to believe this was not a ruse to slaughter them all. Over many generations, a few would come to trust each other enough to risk their lives to further the cause of friendship.
Now, it is a long-ago memory of a time long-past. Now, we know friendship. Our hunters are our friends, and neither of us are prey to the other.
Back to top
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum