mythorianum

[mythorianum]

Hades, god of the Underworld.

Deep in the earth, where shadows dwell, Lies the kingdom of the god of hell, Hades, ruler of the dead, With power to raise the spirits from their bed.

His realm is dark, his throne is cold, But those who enter there, will never grow old, For in his realm, there is no time, Only eternal rest, and an endless climb.

Though feared by many, and revered by few, Hades is a god, who's power is true, For he holds the secrets, of what lies below, In the kingdom of the dead, where shadows grow.

And though death may seem dark, And the end may be near, With Hades as our guide, We have nothing to fear.

[mythorianum]

Godefroy's Final Fight

Godefroy steps into the arena armed with a two-handed poleaxe. The crowd cheers at him as he enters with his arms outstretched, roaring back at them with a primal tone.

On the other side of the arena a large portcullis open with a creak. Loud roars and snarls can be heard from inside the darkness as a feeling of dread starts to well up inside you. Yellow eyes appear from the dark entryway as they sway back and forth in an inhuman motion. The shadowy presence that you had felt once before on the ship three weeks ago manifests itself behind you with a snickering grin and disappears as quickly as it arrived.

Before Godefroy stands a beast on two legs of the likes you have never seen before. It’s as tall as Korvek but with a skinny, unhuman frame. Its malnourished body reveals every bone in its body as it gazes across the arena, taking in the alien sights. Its head is the shape of a skull and yellow-tainted teeth can be seen with every foul screech that it emanates, activating your primal instinct to flee. It moves in erratic patterns making it hard to predict its next action.

“Oh, what the hell…” Godefroy says as he readies his polearm.

What occured could not even be called a fight. The creature pounces at the armed man and latches onto him with all four limbs. Its long claws sink deep into his barely armored, muscular frame. Godefroy attempts to swing his polearm in a wide sweep, but the creature has already dug its nails too deep and is too close to the man for a polearm to be of any use. He drops to one knee and releases one final exhale and drops to the ground, lifeless. The creature offers no solace of a clean death and starts to feast on the freshly slain corpse. Godefroy’s intestines get splattered across the dusty ground as the arena turns silent. Feral grunts of feasting take up the silence until Godefroy’s body is no longer recognizable. The monster perks up, noticing all the other nutritious bodies scattered across the stands. What a snacking table, it must think, as it leaps up in the air and extends its limbs in a macabre stance.

[mythorianum]

Hades, god of the Underworld.

Deep in the earth, where shadows dwell, Lies the kingdom of the god of hell, Hades, ruler of the dead, With power to raise the spirits from their bed.

His realm is dark, his throne is cold, But those who enter there, will never grow old, For in his realm, there is no time, Only eternal rest, and an endless climb.

Though feared by many, and revered by few, Hades is a god, who's power is true, For he holds the secrets, of what lies below, In the kingdom of the dead, where shadows grow.

And though death may seem dark, And the end may be near, With Hades as our guide, We have nothing to fear.

[mythorianum]

Ariel's Song, from Shakespeare's The Tempest by Virgil Finlay (1942)

[mythorianum]

Lady Guinevere, the Fair.

In Camelot's halls of grandeur and might,

A queen did reign with beauty and light,

Guinevere, her name, a true fair maid,

Whose grace and charm forever stayed.

Her hair was like a crown of gold,

Her eyes, like pools of shining old,

She walked with poise, a regal air,

And all who saw her, stopped to stare.

But lo, her heart was torn in two,

For love of Lancelot, she could not pursue,

Though Arthur, her dear king, was true,

Her love for Lancelot, she could not subdue.

Their love was doomed from the start,

For Lancelot, too, had a noble heart,

And though they tried to keep it hid,

The truth was known, and Camelot was bid.

The round table fell, and knights did fight,

For love, for honor, for what is right,

But in the end, Guinevere did flee,

To a convent, where she would always be.

But even in her solitude, all alone,

A beacon of love, that forever shone,

For though her heart was broken, her spirit was strong,

Guinevere, the queen of Camelot, lives on.

[mythorianum]

Hel, daughter of the trickster Loki and giantess Angrboda is part of a somewhat disturbing family as her brothers Fenrir and Jormungand are both initiators of the calamity known as Ragnarök. Not much is known about the giantess and/or goddess known as Hel, so much is up to interpretation.

Hel, goddess of death and the underworld, With skin as pale as snow and eyes that swirl, She reigns in Niflheim, land of mist and cold, Guiding souls of the dead, both young and old.

Niflheim is a place of cold and despair, Where the damned are doomed to suffer, And the living cannot repair.

But Hel is not a cruel goddess, For she rules with fairness and grace, And though her realm is one of hell, She keeps the balance in her place.

So let us not fear death, For Hel will guide us with care, To the underworld, our final rest, Where we'll find peace beyond compare.

[mythorianum]

stay dry, 12/26/22

"generally, orangutan reactions to rain are similar to human reactions, in that they prefer to stay dry! you can often spot adult orangutans using large leaves as make-shift umbrellas while they wait for the rain to pass."

[mythorianum]

Hekate Einalia

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It is that most holy of holidays - Goblinweek! Goblin number one: stirring the pot.

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This is Lady Philomena

"suffering is endless, but so is my devotion" she is completely devoted to her Lord Archimorter, she would never waste a moment doing anything that does not honor or serve him.

I made based on blasphemous lore cause i love iiiiiit

[mythorianum]

Jormungandr, the mighty world eater dwells in the world sea, awaiting its moment to exact revenge upon the gods. For when he was but a newborn, the scheming All-Father Odin, tossed the child of Loki into the salty sea, for the prophecy from the Norns had a terrifying fate for Thor at the hands of the Midgard Serpent.

Jormungandr, serpent of the sea, Born of Loki, a trickster deity. With venomous fangs and coils so grand, You circle the world, in Midgard you stand.

Your size is vast, a giant of old, With a tail in your mouth, a never-ending hold. But in the end times, Ragnarok draws near, And the gods will fall, their fate is clear.

You'll rise from the depths, with rage in your eyes, To fight the Aesir, in a final demise. But in the end, you too will fall, With Thor as your killer, he'll make the final call.

Though your end is nigh, your legacy remains, A symbol of fate, in Norse lore it sustains. Jormungandr, serpent of the sea, A giant of old, forever etched in the tree.

[mythorianum]

Ratatoskr, the mischievous little rodent scurrying about on the world tree bringing news from all the realms. But most importantly, he is a messenger between the great dragon Nidhoggr, that gnaws on the roots of Yggdrasil, and the eagles, perched on top of the World Tree. He may seem insignificant in the great scheme of things, but words travel fast and far, and rumors can have the power to change the world.

Ratatoskr, the squirrel of the ash,

With agile feet and a sharp-tongued lash,

A messenger of gossip and strife,

Whose words bring trouble and twists the knife.

From the roots of Yggdrasil, the tree of fate,

He scurries up and down, with great haste,

Carrying tales between the eagle and the snake,

Fueling their feud for the world's sake.

With a voice like a whisper, and a heart of a liar,

He spreads rumors, and climbs even higher,

But his mischief comes with a price,

One that may lead to his own demise.

Though small and unassuming, his power is great,

For he controls the lives of gods and fate,

With his words, he can bring about war,

Or bring peace to the nine realms once more.

So let us not underestimate this rodent,

For his role in the world is indeed potent,

For he is Ratatoskr, the squirrel of the ash,

Whose words shape the fate of the world, and will last.

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In Asgard's halls of gold and green, Where gods and goddesses can be seen, There stands a queen of beauty rare, Sif, with braids of golden hair.

She is the wife of Thor, the strong, With lightning in his hammer's song, But Sif's own power should not be denied, For she is goddess of the fields, where life resides.

With gentle hands, she sows the seed, That grows to feed the godly breed, She blesses the harvests, bountiful and grand, And keeps the peace in Asgard's land.

But Sif is more than just a wife, She is a warrior, full of life, With a fierce determination in her eyes, She fights alongside Thor, and never dies.

In battles fierce, against giants old, Sif's sword and shield, with courage bold, She fights for Asgard, brave and tall And earns the respect of one and all.

So let us sing of Sif, the fair, Goddess of fields and golden hair, With beauty, strength, and courage true, She is a shining star in Asgard's blue.

[mythorianum]

Skoll "One Who Mocks" and Hati "One Who Hates" are two wolves in the sky, chasing Sol and Mani (sun and the moon) in an endless cycle. As dawn breaks, Skoll begins his pursuit with a terrifying howl. As dusk begins, Hati chases the moon with blinding speed across the celestial body. And so, the cycle is complete and resets. Until the end of days, Ragnarök, this dance continues, until finally the wolves would catch their prey and bring darkness to the world.

Skoll, with eyes as bright as fire, and fur as white as snow Heralded the coming of dawn, and the start of a new day's flow Hati, with eyes as dark as night, and fur as black as coal Heralded the Coming of dusk, and the end of the day's toll

Skoll, the embodiment of hope, and Hati, the embodiment of fate Together they chase the celestial orbs, that define the cyclical state Of the world, in a never-ending cycle, that has been set in motion By the gods, in a cosmic dance, that has been their devotion

They are the embodiment of fate, the bringers of the end, The ones who will devour the very stars, when the world shall bend. And though we may fear their approach, and tremble at their might, We cannot help but be in awe of Skoll and Hati's endless flight.

[mythorianum]

The fate-weavers of Norse mythology, the Norns, hold immense power over the cosmos as they weave the threads of the destiny of men. As they etch the runes of powers into the World Tree (Yggdrasil) it affects everyone, and none can escape its powers.

The Norns, fate's spinners, sit by Yggdrasil's roots, Weaving the threads of destiny, the future to produce. Their prophesies, spoken with care, guide the lives of all, Etched in the bark of the great tree, forever to stand tall.

With Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld, they control the fate of all, Their spinning wheel, never still, the past, present, and future call. With each turn of the wheel, a new fate is spun, Guiding the lives of gods and men, till the cycle is done.

Their words, though often cryptic, hold power beyond measure, For they hold the secrets of life and death, a timeless treasure. So heed their words, and heed them well, for they are the keepers of fate, And in their hands, the future rests, with Yggdrasil as its gate.