Warriors of Fantasy

Priapeia

2011-09-24T12:28:00.008+02:00

Stumbled upon this extraordinary blog recently and absolutely adore the general theme of this digital artists work. Here it is... http://priapusofmilet.blogspot.com/

tumblr

2011-09-10T19:20:00.002+02:00

I've discovered tumblr sites quite a while ago and man do I love them! Especially the archive feature. They're basically online galleries of lads' stashes, some of which are so worth a viewing. Below is a selection of my favourites...

http://fros.tumblr.com/archive
http://furrific.tumblr.com/archive
http://maxtor.tumblr.com/archive
http://monkeylick.tumblr.com/archive
http://ulikebodyhair.tumblr.com/archive
http://nakedpicturesofyourdad.tumblr.com/archive
http://beargrease.tumblr.com/archive
http://beardad.tumblr.com/archive
http://dccubster.tumblr.com/archive
http://karetu.tumblr.com/archive

Mythic Beings from Murky Depths

2011-09-04T10:28:00.011+02:00

Those Embodied with Flesh and Scale

Fantasy equal: Kraken

Some scientists believe mankind knows less about the deep waters of our own planet than what they know of the closest of celestial bodies out in space. What lies deep down the earth’s crust and deep within its oceans is the epitome of the unknown. It is no wonder many a mythological monsters and beings originate from the deep dark depths of our world.

Most of these monsters are usually decorated in scales; an array of colours and patterns. They are awe-inspiring, beautiful and sometimes deadly. We’ve dealt with mermen up till this stage. They are an obvious choice for this collection and most of the material used is attributed to these wonderful creatures. What other scale-clad creatures can be defined as mythic beings from murky depths then? Here’s a list;

Kraken
“Kraken are legendary sea monsters of gargantuan size, said to have dwelt off the coasts of Norway and Iceland. The sheer size and fearsome appearance attributed to the beasts have made them common ocean-dwelling monsters in various fictional works (see Kraken in popular culture).

The legend may actually have originated from sightings of real giant squid that are variously estimated to grow to 13–15 m (40–50 ft) in length, including the tentacles. These creatures normally live at great depths, but have been sighted at the surface and have reportedly attacked ships.

In modern German, Krake (plural and declined singular: Kraken) means octopus but can also refer to the legendary Kraken.”
http://villains.wikia.com/wiki/Kraken_%28Mythology%29

Nāga
“Nāga is the Sanskrit and Pāli word for a deity or class of entity or being, taking the form of a very great snake—specifically the King Cobra, found in Hinduism and Buddhism. The use of the term nāga is often ambiguous, as the word may also refer, in similar contexts, to one of several human tribes known as or nicknamed "Nāgas"; to elephants; and to ordinary snakes, particularly the King Cobra and the Indian Cobra, the latter of which is still called nāg in Hindi and other languages of India. A female nāga is a nāgī or nāginī.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C4%81ga

Leviathan
“Leviathan is a sea monster referred to in the Bible. In Demonology, Leviathan is one of the seven princes of Hell and its gatekeeper (see Hellmouth). The word has become synonymous with any large sea monster or creature. In classical literature (such as the novel Moby-Dick) it refers to great whales, and in Modern Hebrew, it means simply "whale." It is described extensively in Job 41.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leviathan

Hipocampus
“HIPPOKAMPOI (or Hippocamps) were the horses of the sea. They were depicted as composite creatures with the head and fore-parts of a horse and the serpentine tail of a fish. In mosaic art they were often covered with green scales and had fish-fin manes and appendages. The ancients believed they were the adult-form of the fish we call the "sea-horse". Hippokampoi were the mounts of Nereid nymphs and sea-gods, and Poseidon drove a chariot drawn by two or four of the beasts.

Other fish-tailed land animals which appear in ancient art include the "Leokampos" (fish-tailed lion), "Taurokampos" (fish-tailed bull), "Pardalokampos" (fish-tailed leopard), and "Aigikampos" (fish-tailed goat). The last was the form of the constellation Capricorn. Fabulous creatures of this type were also believed to inhabit the Indian Ocean, see Ketea Indikoi.”
http://www.theoi.com/Ther/Hippokampoi.html

Nereids
“In Greek mythology, the Nereids are sea nymphs, the fifty daughters of Nereus and Doris, sisters to Nerites. They often accompany Poseidon and can be friendly and helpful to sailors fighting perilous storms. They are particularly associated with the Aegean Sea, where they dwelt with their father in the depths within a silvery cave. The most notable of them are Thetis, wife of Peleus and mother of Achilles; Amphitrite, wife of Poseidon; and Galatea, love of the Cyclops Polyphemus.”
http://en.wikipedi a.org/wiki/Nereid

From the above mentioned I choose the Kraken as the fantasy equal for this collection. Why this great monster specifically? Simply put, it’s the most magnificent and badass of all the creatures that slumber in the deep; awaiting the summons of a great god to cause havoc and destruction. Below you would find more creatures you would find in places you would not dare to go. Some are good, some are bad and some probably just want to be left alone...

“The Kraken (originally known in Greek as Cetus the Whale) is a mythical sea monster of tremendous size and strength. Its tentacles are large enough to be able to pull entire ships under the water and destroy cities with relative ease. The creature possessed endurance to match its strength. In addition to tentacles it was armed with gaping maw full of many sharp teeth. The creature's many tentacles afforded it great speed in swimming.

The Kraken plays a much more major role in the 1981 Clash of the Titans movie. In this movie, it is the pet of Poseidon, and Zeus orders it to destroy Argos to punish Acrisus, the king of Argos, from casting his wife and Perseus into the sea. The goddess of the sea, Thetis, then unleashes it on the city of Joppa as an excuse to punish Perseus. Andromeda was offered to be sacrificed on Thetis' decree as Poseidon releases the Kraken. Perseus uses Medusa's Head turns the Kraken to stone.”

http://clash-of-the-titans.wikia.com/wiki/Kraken

Wicked Monsters from Stories Old

2011-08-06T07:41:00.007+02:00

Those who make up the Forces of Evil

Fantasy equal: Orc

The animated mythological collection now deviates from the noble and beautiful, to the monstrous and thuggish. It is a mission a find material for this collection. Artists in general do not seem to be all that inspired by monsters and orcs and the like. Luckily for you I managed to scrape together 16 decent representations of wicked monsters found in stories old. Where else would you find a collection like this other than this blog, .

Great evil warlords and warlocks always have scores of minions at their disposal. Most of the minions can be classified into a single group. You would have captains appointed from these groups (usually those minions that are somewhat bigger and more intimidating than the rest) along with fewer of specialised minions or greater monsters. These specialised minions could be shamans (for healing purposes) or techies (for siege weapon purposes), for example. The monsters could be great mythological creatures (like trolls and minotaurs) captured and enchanted by the warlord to perform their new master’s bidding. These monsters are captured to strike fear in the average good soldier and can’t take down several of these squishy humans with a single wallop.

Seldom you would see females of these beasts, which makes one wonder how do they reproduce? Do they even have the tools to do so? The images below indicate they do. Thank goodness for that! They don’t seem all that much different from the forces of good and the way I would imagine they pass their time when not in war.

The fantasy equal simply has to be the orc. The orc is the preferred minion of the evil warlord. They are bloodthirsty beasts, don’t need all that much maintenance, are strong, resilient, obedient and fearless. What more could an evil doer striving for world domination ask for?

"Orcs are described as ugly and filthy fanged humanoids. The largest can reach near-human height, but they are always shorter, and some are as small as Hobbits (since Frodo and Sam disguise themselves as such when they enter Mordor). In contrast, crossbreeds between Men and Orcs are called "man-high, but with goblin-faces."[14] However, some Orcs are very broad, if not tall. Many Orcs have long arms, like monkeys or apes. Many of them also have crooked backs and legs. They have black blood, reminiscent of reanimated corpses."

"The origin of Orcs is an open question. In Tolkien's writings, evil is not capable of independent creation, making it unlikely that the Vala Morgoth, who was the first to produce them, could create them from nothing.

Unlike the orc-néas ('orc-corpses') of Beowulf, no female Orcs are ever mentioned by Tolkien in any publication. However, in the published Silmarillion it is stated that Orcs "had life and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Ilúvatar", implying that there are; in The Hobbit the Orc Bolg is the son of one Azog, while Gollum is described as having eaten a young goblin-imp (Goblins being the same as orcs) shortly before he first met Bilbo (which seems to be alluded to in The Lord of the Rings movie when Gollum goes on (with himself) about how unpleasant-tasting orcs are and that sweet hobbit meat would suit Shelob better)."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orc_(Middle-earth)

Warriors of Fantasy: Wielders of Bows and Arrows

2011-07-16T08:01:00.008+02:00

Those who Fall Foes from Afar

Fantasy Equal: Legolas
Favoured By the Race of: Elves
Favoured By the Class of: Rangers
Damage Type: Piercing
Role:

I consider the bow as one of my favourite weapons. It is a legendary weapon that has made history since ancient times. The bow and arrow has been reinvented by many a civilizations. For the most part it kept its standard design (that of the long and short bow) throughout the ages; however more intricate designs were developed, such as the composite bow and crossbow. It’s intriguing how the bow has been reinvented from civilization to civilization. No one could match the range of Briton’s longbowmen. On the Eastern side of the world, the ancient Chinese were masters at crafting and using crossbows that could fire several bolts in quick succession. In Africa, the Koi people also crafted bows and poison-tipped arrows, which they use to hunt antelope.

From a fantasy point of view, the bow is generally used by individuals who prefer to take down their foes from afar and from a concealed position if possible. The balance provided by game mechanics dictate that a bowman/ranger/stealth/rogue type character who normally makes use of bows are considered ‘squishy’, meaning they have less hit points than a melee fighter, for example. A melee fighter would generally pump up his strength and constitution, since he would be right in the middle of battles and would need to soak up some damage while simultaneously pounding at his foes. Bowman and rogues, on the other hand, must train in dexterous feats and skills, such as stealth, evasion and dodging skills in order to survive and to position themselves in such a way to deal good damage without taking any.

The spotlight for this collection falls on the Elven Prince of Mirkwood. I’m talking of Legolas, of course. The flight-footed Elven archer from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Not quite my cup of tea concerning his looks, I do appreciate his combat skills however, the majority thereof. In the movies Peter Jackson included a few scenes to showcase his incredible agility and nimbleness. Surfing down stairs on a shield whilst aiming and shooting at evil Uruks may be okay, but the scene where he single-handedly took down an oliphaunt was a bit over the top. He was a valuable addition to the Fellowship however. An adventure party is not complete without its archer. Below please find my collection of archer warriors whom I have crossed paths with in my journeys through the treacherous, yet wondrous realm of the Internet...

“As part of the Fellowship of the Ring, Legolas is armed with a bow and arrows and one "long white knife". While the Fellowship attempts to cross Caradhras, Legolas alone remains light-hearted. He is little affected by the blowing winds and snow; he does not even wear boots, only light shoes, and his feet scarcely make imprints on the snow - illustrating the Elves' otherworldliness. He is also lithe and slender with bright, keen eyes and ears and is fair of face as all elves are. He is an unrivalled archer and Gandalf calls him a dangerous warrior. He often bursts into song during the journey and is often the most cheerful member of the Fellowship. His keen eyes, ears and fighting skills are of immense use to the Fellowship but his friendship and loyalty to Aragorn, Gimli and Frodo make him an even more important member”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legolas

Take a Taste

2011-06-10T07:21:00.002+02:00

Yes! A third related post. Could not resist...

Satyr Fantasy

2011-06-10T07:16:00.004+02:00

In conjunction with Guardians of the Sacred Fountain, I decided to add this collection as well. It pretty much inspired the fantasy. Enjoy!

Guardians of the Sacred Fountain II

2011-06-10T07:00:00.009+02:00

Those who Share in the Nectar of Life

Fantasy equal: Pan

You think to yourself you should not have come hiking on such a hot day. Even in the shadows cast by the canopy of the forest you find yourself sweating excessively. You say a little prayer of thanks as you reach the deceitful little stream that has eluded you for a couple of hours already. You remove your hiking shoes and socks, as well as all your clothes and go sit right in the cool, flowing waters of the stream. You give out an appreciative sigh as the refreshing water chills you from your legs and buttocks upwards.

You dip your shirt in the water and hang it around your neck for the time being. As you pull on your undies, shorts, socks and shoes again, you notice a dark figure skulking about in the corner of your eye. You glance his way. The figure stands it ground for a moment and then swiftly moves into the dense undergrowth.

“Who might this peeping tom be?” you ask yourself. You leap forward in pursuit of the enigmatic shadow. You spot him once more and notice him glancing back at you. He does not seem to be frightened or in a great hurry. Maybe he wants you to follow him? You do just that. Always he keeps the same distance from you and always all you can see is the silhouette of a man’s torso with wild hair crowning his head.

He leads you to a cave. You’ve never come across a cave in all the years you have hiked in this area. Somewhat reluctant you enter. A dim light flickers in the distance from within the cave. Soon the dark figure passes through it where he waits for your arrival.

As you step through the exit you stumble and topple head over heels onto a patch of soft, fragrant grass. After a moment of dazedness you witness the splendour of a whole new world. You find yourself in what seems to be a forest clearing. The trees that surround you are majestic; with stems much greater in stature and canopies spreading much wider than the rest of the trees in the forest. The grass around you glows faintly, illuminating the whole clearing with its enchanting light. Here and there you spot other wonderful plants and fungi; giant mushrooms decorated in ridiculous colours and ferns that happily sway to fro.

You hear what could be the flowing of water, yet it sounds enchanting, melodious, sort of like a metal wind chime submerged in water. You peer to where you believe the sound originates from. Your gaze falls on a beautiful pond. Where the grass emits a faint green glow, the pond emits a stronger radiance of blues and silvers.

Leaning against the stem of a willow is the dark figure, you presume. You’ve forgotten about him! He moves out of the shadow and finally reveals himself. You are amazed at what you see...

The dark figure is no man, but what you believe is called a Satyr or a Faun. He is a being of myth and magic. Where you meet the earth with your feet, he meets the earth with hooves instead. He has no legs like you and I, but the hind legs of a goat instead, covered in dark, woolly hair. From his waist upwards, he resembles a human, mostly. The woolly hair extends from his waist up his chiselled stomach and beyond his navel where it bursts into a semicircle across his manly chest. His face is masculine, featuring a hefty jaw garlanded by a handsome goatee, a strong nose and keen, yet kind eyes. A pair of horns protrudes from his wild and bushy hair.

“Welcome, dear one, to my grove and home of the fabled Fountain of Youth. I am, Pan, its chief guardian. You have passed the test. You’re curiosity and sense of adventure has brought you to the wondrous realm of fantasy. You will be given a choice; drink from the fountain of youth, become immortal and dwell within this fantasy realm once you wish to let go of your life in the ‘real world’”, says Pan. “Or return home and live the boring life of the humans.”

You are dumbfounded by the events that have just occurred. Pan manages to calm your spirit down and so follows several moments of asking questions and answers given. All this time you find the whole experience extremely exciting and utterly surreal. Pan is a fantastic piece of work. He is charming and witty and you are strangely attracted to him.

The moment you run out of questions, Pan suddenly draws closer. He startles you by kissing you on the lips. He takes your hands and lifts you from where you were sitting. He takes hold of your butt, each of his hands caressing a cheek. He peers deep into your eyes, pierces your soul and forces his lust onto you. Within seconds you reach an erection. You find yourself overcome by his forceful influence. You free your sword by dropping your shorts and undies for the pressure has simply become too unbearable. With you standing tall and proud and him now kneeling he gently removes your shoes and socks one after the other. He caresses the curves of your calve muscles and admires the solid muscle on your quads.

“You have the legs of an athlete. Very impressive,” says Pan with much admiration.

Pan next focuses his attention on your glorious blade. He firmly takes hold of the shaft and slowly slides his hand down it. He enjoys the uneven texture caused by the protruding veins across your skin and then ultimately the coarse texture of your pubic hair. He engulfs your blade with his mouth, savouring your taste and then slowly starts to steer your throbbing blade in and out his eager mouth.

Performing the deed remarkably hands free, Pan caresses your hairy legs with great enthusiasm. He must have a thing for legs. You feel the nectar welling up in your pommel gems. It won’t be long now! Pan pauses however and erects himself from his kneeling position.

“My turn,” he utters with a devilish smile. You look down and only now notice his glorious blade pointing and looking straight at you with its single eye. It is the greatest blade you have ever seen. You are overcome by the urge to wield his blade, stroke it and taste it. You take a kneeling position in front of Pan now, your eyes fixed on his one-eyed monster. You wield his blade with your right hand and slowly pull back the skin from the blade’s tip. It blushes in a shade of pink as you withdraw the skin to its limit. You lick the firm and smooth pink flesh. Vigorously you pull at, stroke and suck his blade. Pan moans in ecstasy as he grasps your hair and aids you in the process by gently driving your head to and fro.

Without any kind of signal Pan all of sudden reaches his climax. Caught off guard, the first heavy spew propels right over your face and plonks on the grass behind you. Pan makes sure the following sprays of nectar does not go to waste as he forces you to engulf the tip of his blade with your mouth. You were not in time to catch the second wave, yet it connects; on impact it bursts against your cheek. Never have you witnessed such a cannon of a blade and the sheer volume of nectar it spews out is incredible!

The subsequent spurts are forced down your throat. Sweet tasting gushes of nectar rams into the back of your throat and trickles down slowly. You lose count of the amount of gushes shot down your throat. You want more and with each forceful stroke of his blade, Pan gives you more. With your free hand you finish your own job and release your own nectar free into this magical world. Finally the swell in his pommel gems subsides... after all your nectar was spent! You free his blade from the clutches of your mouth and watch as the last droplets of nectar topple down and lightly splash on the grass. Pan rubs your scalp in content as you examine the strange phenomenon that’s taking place where his droplets of nectar have met with the earth. The grass has suddenly grown taller and thicker and is even more glowing than it was before.

“Ah, spectacular, isn’t it? You can say in this world I am a symbol of male virility and fertility. My nectar blesses all living beings it comes into contact with. As you can see the grass at your feet rejoice in their new found strength and vitality,” says Pan. “Now as for you...”

It dawns on you that if the grass gets altered by his nectar, then so must you! And you had volumes of it, not only a few drops. You rise from the ground and look down at your being. Everything looks the same. Wait...

You feel your crown jewels drop from where they were clutched by your body still from recent activity. Now heavier and greater in stature they happily dangle within the proud embrace of your pouch. Your blade immediately follows suit by bumping up in girth and length. Wow, you can’t wait to take this new puppy for a walk!

A warmth emanates from your jewels. It spreads down your legs and up your torso. You are astonished as your lower body is transformed into that of a goat. You have grown a bushy tail. And with the warmth finally reaching your head, a pair of horns pops up from your brow. You’ve changed into a satyr...

“It is complete. You are now one of my followers and a Guardian of the Sacred Fountain. We shall call you Streamtreader, for in the stream is where I have found you. In this exalted form and whilst you remain in this world, you shall not age. You shall be trained to keep safe the Sacred Fountain from the dark forces. You shall befriend minotaurs, centaurs, mermen, ents and man nymphs. Together we shall protect and frolic this sacred piece of earth and revel in the great gift the Sacred Fountain has bestowed on us,” says Pan. “Go now to your home. Little time has come to pass beyond the veil. Return when you may. Then we shall start on your training.”

You return from where you crossed the veil. As you step back into your own world, your appearance immediately changes back to your normal human form. You are tempted to return to Pan, but decide not to. You shall return tomorrow. At home on your way to take a shower, you suddenly wonder whether all of it was real. Nothing seems to have changed in your own world. You enter the bathroom and remove your clothes. Much to your astonishment you find what seems to be a tattoo on the side of your thigh. It's a Satyr! Pan must have branded you as one of his guardians. You smile as you witness your blade growing erect at the thought of heading back to Pan and being a Guardian of the Sacred Fountain...

“Pan (Greek Πάν), in Greek religion and mythology, is the god of shepherds and flocks, of mountain wilds, hunting and rustic music, as well as the companion of the nymphs. His name originates within the Greek language, from the word paein (Πάειν), meaning "to pasture." He has the hindquarters, legs, and horns of a goat, in the same manner as a faun or satyr. With his homeland in rustic Arcadia, he is recognized as the god of fields, groves, and wooded glens; because of this, Pan is connected to fertility and the season of spring. The ancient Greeks also considered Pan to be the god of theatrical criticism.

In Roman religion and myth, Pan's counterpart was Faunus, a nature god who was the father of Bona Dea, sometimes identified as Fauna. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Pan became a significant figure in the Romantic movement of western Europe, and also in the 20th-century Neopagan movement.”

“Pan is famous for his sexual powers, and is often depicted with a phallus. Diogenes of Sinope, speaking in jest, related a myth of Pan learning masturbation from his father, Hermes, and teaching the habit to shepherds.

Pan's greatest conquest was that of the moon goddess Selene. He accomplished this by wrapping himself in a sheepskin to hide his hairy black goat form, and drew her down from the sky into the forest where he seduced her.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pan_(god)

Warriors of Fantasy: Wielders of Fighting Sticks

2011-05-18T14:46:00.014+02:00

Those who sweep and swipe and flick and flurry

Fantasy Equal: Anders
Favoured By the Race of: Any
Favoured By the Class of: Mage
Damage Type: Magical/Bludgeoning

The staff is a simple and underestimated weapon. Being struck by a sword (slashing damage) or an arrow (piercing damage) sounds and probably is way more devastating than being pounded by a staff. What makes a staff such an appealing weapon, in my opinion, is that it is not entirely intended on hurting your opponent, but also provides you with some additional functions to defeat your foe.

Given your staff is strong and resilient enough you can effectively parry incoming attacks. Thrusting one of the ends of the staff at your opponent yields a range advantage. The best additional utility it provides, however, is to disable your opponent; disarming, tripping and keeping your opponent at bay.

The staff is seldom seen used by brawny warriors. It is however favoured by monks, who specialize in simple weapons (given they don’t prefer their fists) and any magic user. Magic users, of course, use a staff to channel their spells and magical energy. You would seldom find a sorcerer or wizard (or even a druid for that matter) not using a staff or a wand. Once a magic user has spent all his spells and/or mana, the only way he can defend himself is with the use of his trusty staff.

One of these magic users is Anders, a character featured in Dragon Age Awakening as well as Dragon Age II and also the partner of my character on my first play-through of Dragon Age II. Anders is what is referred to as an apostate mage. In most realms featured in Dragon Age, magi are seen as beings with immense power. That power however comes with a price. Those born with magic are always led to temptation by demons from the Fade. The Fade is an alternate realm only magi can enter. Here dwell spirits and demons. Demons especially wish to invade the world outside the Fade. By exploiting a mage’s weakness(es), a demon may be able possess a mage and use him/her as a host to survive outside the Fade and cause havoc in the ‘real world’.

Once a mage is possessed by a demon, he/she becomes an abomination; a monster of even greater power and utter evil. Due to the threat magi hold towards humanity, they are kept in what is called the Circle of Magi. Here they learn to control their powers and resist the temptations of demons. They are guarded by an order of knights, called the Templars. Templars are trained to withstand and resist magic and fell any magi who are to break the rules of the Circle. Anders is an apostate, for he is free after escaping the Circle of Magi. He despises templars and wants nothing more for his kind to be free.

As a mage, Anders always wields staff, which is a rather powerful weapon in Dragon Age II. Using his staff, Anders is not only able to channel powerful healing magic, but also able to launch missiles of a particular element (fire, ice, earth, electric, spirit) at his foes with a flurry of impressive looking sweeps and swipes.

Anders is a passionate and kind-hearted, yet fragile soul. It was a pleasure to court him and aid him in his cause throughout my first Dragon Age II experience. Dragon Age is the only worth-while game series I know of that allows for gay role-playing. And the two romance options in the second installment are far more interesting and pleasing to the eye than the single option from Dragon Age Origins. If you’re into fantasy role-playing games I would certainly recommend it.

Found this just now... http://fuckyeahanders.tumblr.com/:)

"It is the Maker who creates mages. The Chantry was built by men, and it can be brought down by them."

“Anders, the light-hearted rebel mage from Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, has changed. Urged by his friend Justice to fight the Circle of Magi more actively, Anders agreed to become Justice's human host… only to find that his anger at the Circle warped Justice into the demonic spirit of Vengeance. Now Anders must struggle mentally and physically to maintain his control over the demon within... at least long enough to see the Circle of Magi overturned forever.”
http://dragonage.bioware.com/da2/world/characters/anders/

“Staves are a traditional prop for the elderly and infirm, and this has led to their association with wisdom.

The ability of a staff to perform wonders is also featured prominently in the scriptures of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Moses and Aaron, in their task to liberate the Hebrews from Egypt and deliver them to the Promised Land, employ staves. The staves are capable of performing miraculous feats to demonstrate the power and authority of God.

Staves are also associated with wizards and other users of magic and sorcery. Haraibou (literal translation meaning 'purification stick') were staves that were used by the miko (Japanese female exorcists) to fight demons in Japanese lore.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Staff_(stick)

The Boys in Africa

2011-04-25T21:08:00.021+02:00

The same photographer that brought us Desert Patrol also produced this magnificent set of photos. It’s close to my heart since I am an African as well. One of the models is in fact a South African actor (DavidVlok) who played in a soapy called Egoli for many years. My mom used to watch it and I did as well some times. I swooned every time he was shirtless on the tele. Now imagine how I must have felt when I came across these images a few years back!

I think there is another of these books called River Rafters. If someone knows where I can find an electronic version, please let me know!

Warriors of Fantasy: Weaponry of Choice

2011-04-10T21:22:00.016+02:00

Those who have Mastered an Uncustomary Weapon

Fantasy Equal: Gimli
Favoured By the Race of: Any
Favoured By the Class of: Any
Damage Type: All

Other than the sword, dagger, spear and bow there are, of course, other kinds of weapons warriors wield to slay their foes. In certain cases these weapons were forged to serve as tools to aid mankind in their daily lives. Take the axe, for example. It is a common tool found in many medieval/fantasy homes and is used for chopping firewood and for carpentry purposes. If it can split a log in two, it would certainly do the same to a skull. The axe therefore was a handy weapon if you were in the need to defend yourself. Another such tool that serves as a weapon is the hammer. It is not as common as the axe, but rather a specialist tool used by blacksmiths. It is a heavy and clumsy weapon, which is wielded by only the strong and sturdy.

Culture and race are factors in what kind of weapons warriors choose to train in; Dwarves love their axes and hammers, the Elves are formidable bowmen and swordsmen, while Barbarians use whatever they can lay their hands on. Many warriors start their training making use of simple weapons, like the club or staff. Fighting a brother in arms with one of these weapons will improve your skill and agility with the lessened risk of severely wounding your sparring partner. There are a small amount of warriors who actually keep training with the staff, for it is not nearly as fatal a weapon as a blade, for example. I find great pleasure when watching a staff-wielding warrior take down a mean looking warrior with his mighty blade.

Below you would find a list of weapons I’m defining as less commonly used. Only a select few warriors choose these as their weapon of choice. This definition is simply based on the amount of material I have found on my adventures through the labyrinth that is the Internet. Some weapon types are so abundant that I can dedicate an entire post to that individual weapon. The weapons below, however, are somewhat scarce amongst the warriors that dwell in the realms of the Internet. I have decided to merge the limited material I have gathered into one glorious post!

The Shield:

The shield is not exactly a weapon either, but a piece of armour. It does have offensive potential, such as ramming and overpowering your opponent. By bashing or knocking an opponent back using your shield, you should be able to launch a decent attack since your opponent’s defences should be lowered.

In the game Dragon Age, Shield Mastery is a type of warrior specialization you can advance in. A warrior with this class can be seen as what we call a ‘tank’ in gaming terms. A tank would be a character that can absorb a decent amount of and hopefully have some taunting skill to divert attention from your more squishy characters, like your mage and rogue. Shield Mastery allows for mostly defensive abilities, but several offensive attacks have been included as well, mostly to debilitate a foe to follow up with a strike from the warrior’s weapon of choice.

“A shield is a type of personal armour, meant to intercept attacks, either by stopping projectiles such as arrows or redirecting a blow from a sword, mace or battle axe to the side of the shield-bearer.

Shields vary greatly in size, ranging from large panels that protect the user's entire body to small models (such as the buckler) that were intended for hand-to-hand-combat use. Shields also vary a great deal in thickness; whereas some shields were made of relatively deep, absorbent, wooden planking to protect soldiers from the impact of spears and crossbow bolts, others were thinner and lighter and designed mainly for deflecting blade strikes.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shield

The Scythe:

The scythe is a weapon I’m less familiar with. It is an interesting and very uncommon weapon not used by many warriors. It consists of a long shaft with a curved blade mounted at its head, curving towards and more or less perpendicular to the shaft. The name of the scythe’s game is to sweep at a foe and hopefully hooking something in the corner where the shaft and blade meet. With enough force, you could sever whatever is caught in its snatch.

It is an agricultural tool, used to harvest wheat. I can’t recall any villain or hero that uses the scythe other than the Grim Reaper. The Reaper or Soul Reaper is often depicted with a scythe. He decapitates his victims using his scythe and then feeds on the victim’s soul.

“The concept of death as a sentient entity has existed in many societies since the beginning of history. In English, Death is often given the name Grim Reaper and, from the 15th century onwards, came to be shown as a skeletal figure carrying a large scythe and clothed in a black cloak with a hood. It is also given the name of the Angel of Death or Devil of Death or the angel of dark and light”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_(personification)

The Mace:

The mace is a bludgeoning weapon you seldom see. It is primarily a short and strong shaft of wood or metal with a symmetrical flanged or spiked head. So you can say it is an upgraded version of the club. The only movie I can recall featuring a mace would be in the prologue of The Fellowship of the Ring; the Battle of Dagorlad. The Dark Lord emerged from amidst his Orc army, wielding a mighty mace. With each swing he would swoop multiple soldiers of the Alliance of Men and Elves from their feet into the air. With immense power, such a weapon could be used to devastating effect.

The mace is often chosen as weapon of choice by priests and clerics in Dungeon and Dragons games, especially the earlier versions, for clerics were limited to weapons that dealt bludgeoning damage only.

“A mace is a simple weapon - or, alternatively, a ceremonial club or virge - that uses a heavy head on the end of a handle to deliver powerful blows. A development of the club, the military mace differs from a hammer in that the head of a mace is radially symmetric so that a blow can be delivered just as effectively with any side of the head. A mace consists of a strong, heavy, wooden or metal shaft, often reinforced with metal, featuring a head made of stone, copper, bronze, iron, or steel.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mace_%28club%29

The Hammer:

Like the mace, the hammer is a preferred weapon of the priests and clerics of the Forgotten Realms, especially the Dwarven kin, for it is a tool used in their forging and mining processes as well.

I have not come across many variants of the hammer. Some call it a warhammer instead and in certain cases I’ve come across characters wielding a couple of throwing hammers as well.

“A war hammer is a late medieval weapon of war intended for close combat action, the design of which resembles the hammer. The war hammer consists of a handle and a head. The handle may be of different lengths, the longest being roughly equivalent to the halberd, and the shortest about the same as a mace. Long war hammers were pole weapons (polearms) meant for use against riders, whereas short ones were used in closer quarters and from horseback. Later war hammers often had a spike on one side of the head, thus making it a more versatile weapon.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_hammer

The Gauntlet:

Gauntlets form part of a suit of armour, yet once in a while you come across a warrior who fights with his fists. Some of these warriors have forged special gauntlets to aid them in battle. Be it barbed or spiked, do not underestimate the swift and powerful blows dealt by a warrior and his iron fists, especially if that warrior is to be a monk, for he knows where to hit and when he hits, he hits hard.

“Historically, gauntlets were an important piece of armour, since the hands and arms were particularly vulnerable in hand-to-hand combat. With the rise of easily-reloadable firearms, hand-to-hand combat became less common and so gauntlets lost most of their strategic value.

Some medieval gauntlets had a built-in knuckle duster. When the hand was bunched into a fist the backhand protection becomes pronounced from the fist just above the knuckles, this allowed the user to utilize the gauntlet as a melee weapon while still protecting the hand from damage when punching. However, against an armed combatant the use of this feature would have been risky so it was very unlikely that a gauntlet would have been used in this way when a more suitable weapon was within reach. But if the user had no other means to defend themselves the tactics they would have employed would be to attempt to surprise the opponent with this inconspicuous attack, possibly by dodging and countering, aiming for exposed areas of flesh such as the face or weak areas of armour, such as under the arm or the groin.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gauntlet_%28glove%29

The Axe:

The axe has evolved from the ordinary lumberjack’s axe to formidable weapons, such as the battleaxe, two-handed axe and throwing axes. It is a favourite amongst the races of Dwarves and Orcs. Our fantasy equal for this collection is a fierce axe wielding Dwarf by the name of Gimli. Yes you’ve guessed it, another Lord of the Rings character!

Gimli is one of the nine members and the only Dwarf of the Fellowship of the Ring that set out to destroy the One Ring. With him he took five axes; a battle axe, a walking axe, a utility axe and two throwing axes. Gimli can be seen as a berserker. He deals devastating blows by utilizing his natural Dwarven strength and the rage and hatred he has towards Orcs.

He preferred felling his foes by means of melee attacks, but once in a while it is imperative to eliminate a foe from a range quickly, which is when his throwing axes come in handy. This is especially true in the cases where his comrade, Legolas the Elven Archer, is otherwise occupied.

“A battle axe (also battle-axe or battle-ax) is an axe specifically designed for combat. Battle axes were specialized versions of utility axes. Many were suitable for use in one hand, while others were larger and were deployed two-handed.

Axes designed for warfare ranged in weight from just over 0.5 kg to 3 kg (1 to 6 pounds), and in length from just over 30 cm to upwards of 1.5 m (1 to 5 feet), such as the Danish axe or the sparth axe. Cleaving weapons longer than 1.5 m would arguably fall into the category of polearms.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_axe

“Gimli used all the axes mentioned above throughout the War of the Ring. He used them depending on the battlefield conditions and the types of enemies that he would have to face. No matter what axe, however, Gimli used them all with devastating power in every battle he faced, working in perfect conjunction with Aragorn's swordplay and Legolas's bow skill.

In the Lord of the Rings video games, Gimli is the character that typically causes the most damage to his foes out of most of the Fellowship. Just like he does in the movies, Gimli uses his axe to drive his enemies into dust. His fierce attack, when fully upgraded is particularly deadly.”
http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Gimli

Warriors of the Roman Empire

2011-04-07T06:51:00.011+02:00

Those who Fight for the Glory of Rome

Fantasy equal: Legionnaire

During times of war all able-bodied men and fit boys were enlisted in the Roman legions and made ready for battle. Many wars were fought abroad and lasted for years. Boys became men, youthful men remained childless and fragile men perished from ailments or old age.

Months passed by only to reach the enemy’s territory and time spent on tactical planning and preparation. It is during these long periods of marching, travelling and sleeping in tents or under the stars where the legionnaires are left to their own devices. They found themselves at their sexual peak and the only means of eradicating the feverish itch was to take care of it themselves or head over to the livestock in search of a hole... but wait, what about their brothers in arms? Surely they have had that same itch. Surely they would have understood each others’ predicament? Would one brother have been willing to help another to have the same favour returned to him?

This has made me wonder to what extent homosexuality is practiced amongst comrades, especially in ancient times where the great Roman Empire travelled far and conquered all. Clutched within winter’s grasp, have comrades ever kept one another warm by sharing a sleeping bag? Huddled together in the hull of a juggernaut, did they ever pull their triggers in each other’s company? Were some legionnaires willing to reduce the swell of their fellow warriors by going down on them or even bend over to be mounted? One can only wonder...

"The Roman Army is recognised by historians as an extremely effective fighting machine. Ironically, its success also led to its downfall. The lowest level of soldier in the Roman Army was the legionnaire. Between 5000 and 6000 legionaries made up a legion that was commanded by a legatus. Legionnaires were trained to fight in a disciplined and co-ordinated manner. A whole legion could be punished for failing to fight well in battle - even if the Romans did win the battle itself! Training was brutal and tough but it paid huge dividends for the Romans."

Szadek's Creations

2011-03-29T06:53:00.010+02:00

I found these remarkable images by an artist called Szadek on the site; http://yaoi.y-gallery.net. His work oozes with masculine appeal, most of which are moulded with a fantasy theme in mind. Enjoy!

Super Heroes of Mutant Origins II

2011-03-11T06:50:00.009+02:00

Those Wrought by the Next Stage of Evolution

Fantasy equal: Mutant

I have not googled X-Men for a while, but I certainly am curious as to know which of the mutants will have a movie of their own, as is the case with many people’s favourite mutant, Wolverine. I’ve heard rumours there is to be another Wolverine movie and that Magneto is to receive the honour of having his own dedicated movie as well.

Have you ever considered were you to be a mutant, what powers would you have? My idea is not exactly unique, for the character I imagine has powers borrowed from several other existing mutants. Imagine a mutant with a similar handsome look to that of Wolverine; strong, feral and wild. He is Nature’s servant and in the wild is where he is most powerful. He draws his strength from the earth and the other natural elements within and around it. Like Mystique, he is able to change form, but only to a select few animals. Later on he wishes to take the shape of some mighty mythological beings. Like Storm, who has dominion over the elements in the sky, my character is to have dominion over the earth, flora and trees. His name? Druid.

All the mutants in Xavier’s X-Men has a role they play to protect good natured mutants and keep evil forces that threaten the fragile coexistence with humans at bay. Storm, for example has heavy damage nukes and some crowd control abilities. Wolverine is the almost immortal berserker of the team. Shadowcat can be seen as a rogue, or scout of sorts and iceman can stop a foe dead in its tracks. Druid, on the other hand, will also have some scouting abilities, given he shapeshifts into a critter that can. He should have some crowd control skills similar to that of storm, given there is earth, plants and trees about. It is clear that his abilities is limited when he’s in a building, for example, but like Superman, all great, balanced heroes should have a proper weakness.

Back to the actual X-Men mutants! Below find the next installment of Wolverine and co worshipping!

“A mutant is a type of fictional character that appears in comic books published by Marvel Comics. Primarily featured in comics featuring the X-Men, a mutant is an individual who possesses a genetic trait called an X-gene that allows them to naturally develop superhuman powers and abilities. Mutants are members of the subspecies Homo sapiens superior, an evolutionary progeny of Homo sapiens, and are considered the next stage in human evolution. Unlike Marvel's mutates, characters who develop their powers only after exposure to outside stimuli or energies (e.g. Hulk, Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four et al..), mutants are born with their powers, although they typically don't manifest in the character until puberty. Like mutates, the powers of the vast majority of Marvel's human superheroes are the result of genetic manipulation by the Celestials millions of years in the past.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutant_(Marvel_Comics)

Pointy-Eared Elders from Stories Old

2011-02-19T07:07:00.009+02:00

Those first created by the Gods

Fantasy equal: Elf

There are many kinds of elves to be found in a multitude of fables, tales and legends nowadays. According to me however, there is but one true kind of Elf and that is the kind brought to life by the great mind of the legendary storyteller named J.R.R. Tolkien.

Tolkien’s Elves are gracious and majestic immortal beings, fairest and wisest of all the folk of Middle-earth. They are akin with nature, find pleasure in all sorts of arts and lore, and yet are formidable warriors. This kind of Elf has been adopted in all fantasy based games as well, given it is made available as a race option during character creation.

On the other end of the spectrum is the despicable Christmas or Santa’s Elf. They are small, clumsy looking beings that help Santa Clause in manufacturing all the presents for all the boys and girls of the entire world. Santa’s Elves are simply a pathetic version of the great Elves of Middle-earth. I loathe watching Christmas movies, mostly due to the Christmas Elves that irritate me so much!

Elves are said to be immortal, for they cannot perish from ailments or old age. They can however be slain in battle, as was seen at the Battle of Helm’s Deep in The Two Towers movie. Haldir, an Elf commander of Lothlorien, was slain by the Uruk-Hai. I suppose Peter Jackson (the director of the movies) wanted to show that Elves are not as invincible as some may have thought, for Haldir never even went to Helm’s Deep in Tolkien’s story.

Arwen, Elven daughter of Elrond, forsook her immortality to rather live one lifetime with her mortal betrothed, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. So being mortal is a choice they can make at whatever stage of their lives. Once the choice is made, the light of the Eldar leaves their beings (the power bestowed on them that makes them immortal) and will slowly die as we all do.

Below then you would find a collection of Elves, gracious and majestic like they should be, made immortal on this blog.

“For those who're new to the works of Tolkien, a description of the Elves in general may be appropriate. They are as tall as Men, and often taller. Of all living creatures in Middle-earth, they are the ones described as the most beautiful and gifted. The Elves are immortal, but can be slain in battle, and can also loose the will to live. When they die, they go to the Halls of Mandos. There they wait, for one day to return. Mandos is one of fourteen "sub-gods" called the Valar. These are important when looking at the history of the Elves, as you'll hear more of later.
In the beginning of days the Elves dwelt in Middle-earth. But the Valar, who lived on the Isle of Valinor, beyond the Great Sea, asked the Firstborn, as the Elves are known as, to settle with them on the Isle. Many did so, but quite a few also stayed in Middle-earth. These were allowed to come to Valinor, where there were no evil, in their own time. You'll find many references to this later, as it's one of the most important aspects of the history of the Elves in Middle-earth. During the Second Age, Men envied the Elves their immortality, and tried to find Valinor. The Valar therefor hid the Isle and made it invisible, so that none other than the Elves could find it. The path across the sea they had to sail, was called the Straight Road. The song quoted above tells how Legolas, one of the most important Elves of The Lord of the Rings, long for the west.”
http://tolkien.cro.net/elves/ofelves.html

Wielders of Mortal Knives

2011-02-17T06:43:00.013+02:00

Those who Get Close and Personal

Fantasy Equal: Meriadoc Brandybuck
Favoured By the Race of: Halflings
Favoured By the Class of: Rogues
Damage Type: Piercing

Daggers and shortswords (and many exotic variations thereof) are the preferred weapons of rogues, assassins and scouts. Rogues move in on the enemy from the shadows. They conceal themselves from hostile eyes and sneak closer up until they’re able to deal a deathly blow.

To be efficient at sneaking, a rogue needs to be quiet, agile and nimble. Heavy and bulky weapons would make this feat much more difficult. Several light and sharp daggers would thus need to suffice. Managing to sneak right up to a foe would guarantee a kill in most cases. In other more tricky situations, the rogue may need to throw one of his daggers, which of course, requires much more skill and cunning.

The fantasy equal for this collection is the Hobbit, Meriadoc Brandybuck. He is one of four Hobbits that joined the Fellowship of the Ring in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. These Hobbits were never really classified as rogues, but due to their natural attunement to the arts of stealth and thievery, I personally would classify them as such. Hobbits were said to match Elves when it comes to their light-footedness and feats of dexterity. This statement is hard to believe once you see their overgrown feet, but that is how it is.

The four Hobbits encountered a ranger called Strider at the inn called The Prancing Pony. He was to guide them on a perilous journey to the realm of the Elves, Rivendell. The Hobbits were given a sturdy shortsword each. Three of them still used those very swords when the tale came to end.

Each of the Hobbits performed heroic deeds throughout the trilogy, much to the surprise of their larger comrades. Merry’s (shortened name for our fantasy equal) greatest feat was performed at the Pelennor Fields. Here Sauron sent forth a great army to destroy the people of Gondor. Sauron’s greatest warrior, the terrifying Witch King was about to destroy Eowyn, Shield Maiden and princess of Rohan. Merry, out of the blue, snuck up from behind him, and mortally wounded the Witch King by piercing his shortsword down his leg. Whilst the Witch King flinched from pain, Eowyn mustered the strength to deal the final blow and sent forth her long blade straight through his head. Merry thus not only saved Eowyn’s life, but dealt a massive blow to the ranks of the orc army by defeating one of its greatest leaders... all of this with a mere shortsword in the hand of a mere Hobbit.

Below you find fellow rogues and warriors who prefer the fast hitting action of wielding daggers and short swords; in some cases even one in each hand.

“Separated by Pippin and Gandalf's journey to Gondor, he swore fealty to Théoden and became his esquire. Without permission from his liege, he rode to the Battle of the Pelennor Fields in the care of young Dernhelm. As the Riders of Rohan were attacked by the Nazgûl and Théoden was injured, Merry and Dernhelm faced the Witch King of Angmar alone. Here, Merry's companion was revealed to be Éowyn (he was already aware of the fact that it was Eoywn who also was not allow to go to battle and disguised herself as a man to enter Battle), White Lady of Rohan, niece to the King. Battling both fell beast and the Nazgûl alone, Éowyn was well assisted by Merry's crucial move: his sword, built for this very purpose, was one of the few weapons able to pierce the Ringwraith's form, at great expense to himself. This was enough to allow Éowyn to finish off the Witch King (or it may be that Merry's blow was the fatal one). Merry heard Théoden's last words, but was unnoticed by the honour escort of Riders and was found wandering the city by Pippin. He was saved by the healing of Aragorn and recovered fully.”

http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Meriadoc_Brandybuck

Conjurers of Familiar Spirits II

2011-02-15T06:44:00.010+02:00

Those Akin to an Animal Spirit

Fantasy equal: Ranger

You are fascinated by how one side of a mountain could be so different from the other. For years you have hiked up the northern slopes of the Misty Mountains, but today you decided to venture forth into the unknown; the southern slopes. The majestic Misty Mountains casts its shadow to the south. Here the soil is moist, the air is damp and trees grow much denser. The plant life in general seems richer. A multitude of different kinds of tiny ferns and mosses can be found here. Mushrooms and toadstools are bountiful and pop up almost everywhere. You find your surroundings enchanting and expect a fairy or faun to reveal itself at any moment.

You use your trusty walking stick to ascend up your new favourite hiking trail. The terrain is diverse. So far you have climbed multiple steep hills, rested at an even grass field then just to find yourself in a grove a few paces farther. Up ahead you take notice of a cluster of large jagged rocks jutting from the ground. It’s as if the gods have practiced their archery kills here, using the mountain as the target. You need to get onto one of those. It is a prime perching spot to have a quick snack.

You choose the tallest of the rocks and start climbing. Its jaggedness makes the task easy and in no time you roost on a step close to the top. You pop a couple of apples from your backpack and start munching away as you marvel at the natural beauty that is the valley below.

You have a long way to go still and decide to cut your break short. You steadily lower yourself down from the rock. About half way, as luck would have it, you lose your footing. You’re caught off balance, unable to save yourself from falling. You land on your left leg. At first you believe you are unscathed from the fall, but as you place weight on your leg, you realize something is wrong. The pain is excruciating. Your heart sinks as you realise you are now in serious trouble.

You skip on one leg down the way you came. The impact from each skip causes your hurt leg to throb. The grovelling earth makes the task of heading back down even more daunting. You sit down, hoping you would think of something to get you out of your predicament. You poke at your ankle and assess you must have broken your ankle.

From the corner of your eye you spot an enormous bird swooping down from the sky. It spreads its great wings to decelerate its dive. With a few forceful flutters of its strong wings it perches itself at the top of one of the protruding rock. It is a majestic creature armoured with bronze feathers that glisten in shades of green as it moves under the gaze of the sun. It talons and beak looks both powerful and sharp. He silently peers at you with his piercing eyes, examining your every movement.

“Mister Eagle, I don’t suppose you would go find me some help, instead of eyeing me like I’m snack?” you mockingly ask of the Eagle.

The eagle immediately launches itself into the sky and within moments it swiftly speeds from sight.

“Some company would have been nice,” you think to yourself.

You decide to remove your shirt to fasten it around your ankle. Fortunately you have a blanket and one ration of food in your backpack for such unplanned disasters. You were a fool not to let anyone know of your plans however. It will soon be dark and it seems like you’ll have to spend the night here. I better find some firewood and cover for the night. Tomorrow then you’ll attempt the descent down the mountain.

As you lift yourself up you witness the return of the eagle.

“You’re back, my fine feathered friend! Came back to help me find some cover?”

The eagle cocks it head in a different direction. You follow its glance. In the distance you notice a dark figure approaching. It is a man sprinting down the grassy slope! You are saved! He nimbly manoeuvres through and over obstacles at great speed. His great mane of dark locks dangles and swings from side to side with each swift stride he takes. Within seconds he comes to a halt in front of you, panting slightly.

“I don’t suppose this man is your master whom you have summoned to aid me?” you ask the eagle yet another rhetorical question.

“Indeed she has,” the mysterious man responds in her stead. He reaches his arm at the eagle. She in turn hops gradually from his forearm up until she perches herself at her rightful spot; the shoulder of her master.

You watch the pair with great admiration and ask, “how did you manage to train such a majestic wild animal?”

“She is no wild animal. She is my Animal Companion; my equal in the animal spirit realm. Her name is Sylvane and I am called, Thorne,” the man says. “You hurt your ankle. Let me help you.”

Thorne removes a dagger from the inside of his left boot. He then jogs to the edge of a forest nearby. This is when you notice the great longbow strapped to his back and the quiver of arrows his mane of hair has hidden from sight. He returns with a few wet branches. He crouches in front of you and gently takes hold of your leg. You take a whiff of him. Strangely enough his scent is of fragrant ferns. Almost like how a forest would smell like after rain has fallen. You look at his face. He avoids eye contact. From within his keen, dark eyes you observe gentleness and kindness along with his timidity and mystery. You find it peculiar how his brushes of eyebrows are shaped like the wings of a bird. He has a sharp, majestic nose, cracked lips and wears his unkempt beard rather well.

He unties the shirt you’ve clumsily wrapped around your ankle. He touches your ankle at a few pressure points and steals glances of your facial. He nods. You guess he has now realized you have a broken ankle. You think to yourself he could just have asked. He rips your shirt to shreds. He could have asked before doing that as well. From one of the many pouches on his leather tunic he removes a clump of a plant with tiny green leaves and petite white, star-shaped flowers. He places this in his mouth and masticates it to a pulp. This he spits onto fingers of his right hand and gently massages his personal medicine into your ankle. You do not know whether to find this a bit on the gross side, or a bit on the remarkable side. Your thoughts tilt to the latter as you feel the herb easing your pain.

“Does that feel better,” Thorne asks you.

“Indeed!,” you respond.

“Good,” Thorne says, smiling faintly.

He wraps some of the shreds of clothing around your ankle. Next he measures the branches he had fetched against lower leg. He cuts two branches at this length and ties it to your leg with the remaining shreds. He does a much better job with the wrapping than you have done.

“I’ll take you to my cabin. It’s perilous to head to town so late. Dangerous beings emerge in this area at night,” he says.

“I would appreciate that, and thanks for your help thus far.” You say.

Sylvane, who has sat on his shoulder all this time, dives from his shoulder and ascends into the darken skies. Thorne helps you up and suggests you lean on him. He removes his weather-beaten cloak from his being. As he does so you notice the tufts of chest heir emerging from beneath his tunic where his cloak had been tied. He wraps the cloak around you to shelter you from the early evening chill. You mention not you have a blanket in your backpack, for you much rather want his cloak around your naked torso.

It takes you hours of uncomfortable hiking before you reach his cabin. Of course his cabin had to be on higher ground, so you are absolutely exhausted. You did not speak to him, for you were unable to due to your embarrassing panting and heavy breathing, where he is as silent as a mouse. Even his striding is absolutely inaudible.

His quaint cabin is at the edge of the forest and overlooks the entire valley. The breathless moon watches over the valley and illuminates it in its silver embrace. In the far distance you notice the flickering lights from town. It would have been a long way down. Thorne almost carries you up the few stairs, swings the door open and lowers you down onto a pile of pelts covering the floor in the one corner of his cabin. Your eyes shut and refuse to open again. Fatigue consumes your wakefulness and almost instantly you plunge into a deep slumber...

Later that evening you were awakened by the door opening. With weary eyes you watch Thorne place a lantern on the only table in his cabin. Carefully he removes his tunic and the green shirt he wears underneath to reveal his upper-body. In the blink of an eye Sylvane comes diving through the front door and you can swear she has just dived straight into Thorne’s chest. Where a mat of hair covered his chest in natural manly fashion, his chest hair now forms an eagle. The eagle’s head proudly peaks Thorne’s sternum, its wings reaches beyond his nipples and its body and ultimately its tail descend down his ripped abdomen. Did Thorne and Sylvane become one? With the image engraved in your head fatigue consumes you and you fall asleep once more. Soon Thorne stripped down to his loin cloth, locked the door, extinguished the light and rolled himself up in the remaining pelt next to you...

Dawn breaks in an array of golden colours. One by one these colours stretch across and illuminate the vale as the sun creeps up from behind the majestic mountain. Nocturnal beasts have returned home and birds and critters awake for their turn of foraging in the vale. You are awakened chirping and scuffling of these critters from outside. You get up and walk out the open door. Much to your amazement you find the clearing in front of the cabin to be swarmed by a great number of birds, tortoises, rabbits, badgers, squirrels and even several small antelope. You rub your eyes to make sure your eyes are not deceiving you. Nope, they’re still there. The racket has gone silent as every single critter peers at you.

You only notice Thorne in the midst of the chaos as he whispers several words in an unknown tongue. With his words spoken the chaos resumes. Thorne tosses the last seeds and berries he had with him amongst the animals and makes his way towards you. You are reminded of what you had witnessed the previous night as you notice the hairy eagle extended across his torso.

“Glad to see your ankle is better,” Thorne says. You have completely forgotten about your hurt ankle. You lift your foot and twist and turn it in different directions. It has healed wholly with no signs of being twisted the day before. “Come inside. I have saved us some nuts and berries for breakfast,” Thorne says as he touches your shoulder and leads you inside.

“Thanks for all you have done for me, Thorne. I have no idea how you have managed to heal my ankle so quickly. It is absolutely remarkable. There is something I need to ask you. The things I have seen... you are no mere woodsman, aren’t you? There is definitely something mystical about you. No man can tame a whole forest of animals you have done. And then there’s the incident with Sylvane and the peculiar shape of your chest hair. It’s in the shape of an eagle! Who or what are you exactly?” you ask of Thorne with a somewhat shaky voice.

“I am one of very few practicing rangers left in these lands. Our magic is somewhat limited, yet still my kin, like all other magical beings, were driven from society for being mystical, for being different. I have taken solitude and refuge here in the woods, high up in the mountains. Here is the only place I can be with nature, be safe and be myself,” Thorne says.

“We were told all magical beings are dangerous and there were quite a bit of emphasis placed on the power of druids and rangers, yet I have only experienced kindness from you thus far. I suppose not all magical beings are evil as the king proclaims?” you ask of Thorne.

Thorne smiles. “I knew you would understand. A friend of nature would! All rangers are trained and sworn to protect nature and all who dwell in her bosom. Yes, we have had our differences with humans, but that was only to protect Mother Nature from their destruction. It was one of the triggers for having us all exiled from civilization and even hunted. Not only was I afraid when Sylvane and I crossed paths with you, but my heart lifted as well when I sensed your spirit is not at all malevolent. It is our duty as rangers to help humans in need, but with all that has happened the last age, we of course are very cautious at revealing ourselves. I hope I have not scared you. I was planning on establishing you to who I really am by introducing you to my woodland friends. You were not supposed to see how Sylvane and I become one. It is rather heavy magic usage and I apologize that you had to witness that,” Thorne says.

“I find everything about your life as a ranger, your magical powers and your bond with your animal spirit fascinating. I’m somewhat frightened; I have to admit, but only due to the unknown and unfamiliarity towards magical people and beings. I sort of wish I could do some of what you can do,” you tell Thorne.

“It is customary that rangers train their sons and sometimes daughters as well the ways of nature. Fathers and their sons protect the same land as they pass the knowledge from one generation to the next. I don’t see myself ever taking a wife. There isn’t even one to be found for many a kilometres. I am rather desperate though, for our numbers are dwindling, which would leave Mother Nature at the mercy of destructive human kind. I would be willing to be a mentor to someone like you, were you interested in becoming one of nature’s allies,” says Thorne.

“Wow, someone like me?! But isn’t one born with magic? There’s no way I’ll be able to be a ranger. I suppose you could teach me how to hunt. Make use of a bow and maybe mentor me on some herb lore,” you say.

“You are correct; one needs to have a Mark of Magic to be trained in the schools of magic and the abilities gifted by a given mythical class. You may friend, have such a mark. I can sense it. You are a Servant of Nature, like me! And thus you have the potential to become a ranger or even a druid!” Thorne exclaims excitedly.

You are dumbfounded. Is it true? Are you really a magical being?

“There is a simple test you may perform, if you don’t believe me. Here is a seed. I place it on this sacred earth. For now it is but a mere, tiny seed, but with your help, it would grow into a healthy plant,” says Thorne. “A true Servant of Nature has the gift of being able to nurture both flora and fauna. Using a generous amount of mana, a druid or ranger is able to rapidly grow a plant from a seed. With the use of any of your bodily fluids, really and a rangers touch, you should be able to germinate this seed. Go ahead and spit on it and push it into the earth.”

You do as Thorne says. You reluctantly spit into your left hand, and with your right hand’s index finger, you swirl your spit a bit, scoop some of it up and firmly drive the seed into the soil. As you withdraw your soiled finger, the seed sprouts almost instantaneously. A slim green stem twirls up from the hole. Slowly grows taller, shoots out bare branches at first and next came leaves and ultimately the cycle is complete with a blooming shrub between you and Thorne. You marvel at it and the means by which this plant has been cultivated.

“I’ve done it! I’m a ranger!” you exclaim.

“All in due time!” Thorne responds giggling.

So follows several wondrous days of Thorne tutoring you, the budding ranger, on the ways of Nature. During this magical time you have learnt and achieved much, but were told this is but a drop in the ocean of what a ranger is capable of and with Thorne being young still himself, what he can teach you is rather limited. Soon, however, and much to Thorne’s amazement, you were able to cast powerful Druidic spells with little effort. Some of your favourites include the spells named Barkskin and Camouflage. Both these spells draw magic from Nature to alter the body. Barkskin alters your skin to become bark, which dramatically boost your resistance to all external elements other than fire. Camouflage, on the other hand, transfigures your being to mimic your surroundings and thus aid your stealth skills. Few have the natural vision to detect a skilled ranger aided by a powerful camouflage spell.

During your time spent with Thorne you have grown fond of him and how he has taken you under his wing. There have been times you wish you could simply embrace and kiss him, from sheer contentment in his presence which you now cherish so. You have decided to forsake your lonely existence in town and defend nature and all magical beings by Thorne’s side. Thorne has accepted your offer with open arms, literally as well, for that is the first time you have embraced each other. In his arms you feel utter bliss and hope more would come from this promising friendship.

Soon came the day where you need to put what you have learnt to action. The ancient winds carry murmurs of the king’s men infiltrating the forest on the quest of eliminating any magical beings they may find. As Nature’s servants, you and Thorne must both help. Upon casting your two favourite spells on both you and Thorne you make your way to the outskirts of the forest. Sylvane scouts ahead of you. Without any sign from Sylvane, Thorne knows she has found them and guides Thorne towards their location. You spot them in the distance; a party of ten mercenaries cutting down brushes and trees as they destructively make their way into the forest. Your eyes widen as you witness how one of the men cuts down a shrub to reveal a fairy circle. Some of the fairies escape, but you hear the faint cries of some trapped and cowering in the corner of their home. Instinctively both you and Thorne spring to action. Swiftly Thorne falls the immediate threat to the fairies as his arrow pierces the man’s throat. Soon the man closest to you collapses to the ground. Thorne does not have a clear shot of the rest of them, who now are alerted and enraged by the fall of their comrades.

You tap into your surroundings and knowing exactly where the remaining eight men are you call on the ancient trees to root, entwine and trap their foes. Like whips vines lash out at the mercenaries, bring them down the earth where the magnificent roots of the trees engulf and bury them in the earth.

“Well done!” Thorne exclaims. “In time Mother Nature will put their energy sources to good use. May their spirits be spared and reborn for the good of this earth.”

The fairies rejoice and bestow you with a fair amount of fairy dust. You are told with this amount of fairy dust you and Thorne will be able to levitate themselves for at least 5 minutes. You cannot wait!

On your return Thorne speaks of the rite you should perform to conjure your familiar spirit; “You have proven yourself to be a true servant of nature. The greatest gift bestowed on a Ranger is the companionship of his alter ego in the animal kingdom. I’m, of course, akin to the eagle and so Mother Nature has bonded my spirit to that of Sylvane, my familiar spirit. Her vision has greatly improved my skill with the bow and her swift flight has made me swift on foot. I already have an idea what animal you are akin to, but one never knows what Mother Nature has planned for us. I cannot wait to see how your appearance will alter as well. You look way too tame with your human appearance.”

“I cannot wait to become a full-fledged Ranger! Evildoers beware, or face the wrath of Nature’s Servants!” you shout aloud!

“That’s the spirit!” Thorne responds. “The rite though is a bit of a sensitive area and a bit unconventional. I’ll prepare you for what needs to be done, but since it is such a personal act, you should venture to a secluded area and perform the rite alone. I insisted to do it alone, for there was no way I would have let her guide the rite... you are required to take a tonic of various herbs and other earthy ingredients, which I’ll prepare. After taking the tonic you need to masturbate and ejaculate precisely at midnight. You’ll know it is midnight as soon as the local pack of wolves howls. You’ll need to time yourself to get it perfect, or the rite will fail and you’ll need to wait for the next full moon. I know, it probably sounds strange, but it is the natural way of conjuring your animal spirit for the very first time. Where your semen is sowed on the earth there your animal spirit will emerge and bond with your being. From then onwards you can become one or two separate entities at your own will by simply thinking of it. Are you up for it?”

“Of course I am!” you answer. “It sounds amazingly pleasurable meeting your animal spirit in such an erotic way. I cannot wait!”

The day of the rite is a day of meditation and self reflection. As you and Thorne gather the ingredients for the tonic you are to consume prior to the rite, the two of you make guesses as to what animal is to be your equivalent in the animal kingdom. You both agree upon a black wolf, for you resemble it the most to your reckoning. You too are somewhat hairy, are alert, loyal and have great endurance when it comes to the chase of the hunt.

That evening Thorne starts preparing the tonic and adds a multitude of ingredients into the cauldron mounted above a crackling fire. Each of these ingredients represents some magical association with that of the ranger, his magic, his bond to nature and his animal companion. A reptile scale, a bird’s feather and a tuft of fur is added to the concoction. Some soil, water, a petal of a fireflower and the seed of a dandelion is added next. The rest of the ingredients are unknown to you. With the drop of the last one into the cauldron, the mixture starts to bubble and glow in faint green. The bubbling soon subsides rendering the potion ready.

Thorne pours most of the potion into a phial and fastens the cork lid tightly. He places it in your hand and smiles as he asks “Are you ready for this, comrade? No getting cold feet, eh?”

“Certainly not. I’m ready to become one of Nature’s Allies,” you reply with a smile.

Near midnight you venture forth into the forest. Moonbeams gleaming through the canopy of the forest lights your path. You hear the faint noise of a wet twig snapping in the distance. You peer at where you believe the noise comes from. You sense no malevolence, only the creatures of the dark going about doing what they do. Soon you reach a forest clearing and deem this to be a good enough spot to perform your rite. You remove your boots, next your tunic and lastly your pants. You sit down on the soft grass; your legs stretched ahead of you and taking a deep breath as you look up at the radiance of the moon. Utterly sky-clad you almost bask in the moon, reflecting on what you are about to perform. You take your first sip of the potion, savouring its surprisingly pleasant taste before chugging most of down...

Almost instantaneously your pommel gems lift as your blade rises to glory. The potion must be some potent aphrodisiac! You grasp your and squeeze it, quite enjoying its hardness. You imagine you and Thorne together as you stroke your blade. Soon enough you can feel the nectar voyaging from your pommel gems to your blade. You almost fail at keeping your nectar within; the wolves have not howled yet. Moments later you clearly hear the lament of the local pack of wolves. Vigorously you stroke your blade now to reach the dramatic finale...

The delightful sensation of your climax is amplified tenfold. You shudder from sheer pleasure as volumes of steaming nectar are launched from your blade. Every stream of nectar splatters and amalgamate with the earth it comes in contact with. Finally your supernatural resources are spent. Breathing heavily from the ever satisfying experience you stare at the artwork you have created on the ground in front of you; the fusion of your seeds with the earth glows faint blue in the moonlight. Soon the glow augments and your seeds start to sprout in vines and leaves of a beautiful blue and silver colour. It forms a bud, which blossoms in a radiance of blinding light. You open your eyes as the brightness subsides. In front of you an owl peers at you with its massive, hypnotic eyes. You smile at her and you know she is smiling back. Instantly you agree you shall call her Athena.

You sense that Athena’s feelings and instincts are enmeshed with yours as the thoughts of “need to go hunting mice”, “find a hole in a tree” and “there’s something behind me somewhere” flashes through your mind. Your animal companion turns her head and suddenly swoops up in the air. You rapidly lift yourself up and together you investigate what is lurking nearby.

With her keen night eye she spots him almost immediately; it is Thorne! She pounces on Thorne as you literally tackle him to the ground, so glad are you to see him. On top of Thorne you at first unknowingly kiss him, so enchanted are you from the recent events. Only moments later you realize what you are doing. Slowly and embarrassed you release the lock of lips and ashamedly look Thorne in the eyes. Your heart lifts as he smiles after a long pause. He reels you in for more kissing. He caresses your bare back and soon fondles your butt cheeks. You feel his blade rise as you enjoy his manly taste...

Let us give our two rangers some privacy then. This theme is yet another one of my favourites. The loving relationship between a man and his animal companion is exceptionally attractive to me. My heart skips a beat every time I come across an image like the ones below, for I know it would form part of one of my favourite themes I create posts about. Below you shall find men who have found their equal in the animal kingdom. Have you?

"The ranger is a hunter and a woodsman, skilled with weapons and knowledgeable in tracking and woodcraft. The ranger often protects and guides lost travelers and honest peasant-folk. An above average strength and wisdom are needed to be a ranger."
http://www.gamebanshee.com/icewinddale/classes.php

Shepherds of the Ancient Forests II

2011-02-12T06:15:00.009+02:00

Those who Shelter the Sacred Groves

Fantasy equal: Ent

The forests of the Tsitsikamma are transformed after a week long rainfall. All its flora and fauna seem to rejoice in its rejuvenated embrace. Winged creatures chirp to their heart’s content. The ancient trees sway ever so slightly as they stretch their roots. And furry critters brush their fur after a long due shower. You breathe in deep as you allow the forest air to fill your lungs. You are in your element, clear of mind and pleased to share in the wonders of the forest with the one you secretly love.

His name is André, your best friend since you can remember. You were neighbours and grew up side by side. In primary school you had your very own club; a two member club for the most part, where you only invited a selected few occasionally to join in on your fun. The secret base was at the empty plot behind your house. The base was naturally constructed by two thickets and a large oak tree. In the centre of the triangle formed by the tree and the thickets there was a clearing. To access this clearing the two of you had to crawl through a small tunnel formed by the roots of the tree. Later years you could hardly squeeze yourselves in as you grew larger.

You made the space as homely and waterproof as possible by making use of unwanted building material and genius kiddie engineering. Here you devised all your plans and experiments. It was also home to your treasures, like your slingshots, marbles, some sweets (only those with proper wrappers) and the naughty magazine André found in his dad’s closet.

Almost every weekend you had a sleepover; one weekend at his house and the next at yours. It was rather handy being neighbours. If you forgot a particular TV game cassette, you could just pop in next door and be back in a flash, given you knew exactly where it was in the area of chaos that was your room.

The day the plot was cleared was a sad day. The plot was sold and construction of a new house commenced soon after. By this time you were starting your high school careers. You took the exact same subjects and so managed to be in the same classes. You even partook in the same sports. You were a formidable duo on the attacking front of your field hockey team. Over weekends you played with your neighbourhood friends; hide-and-seek, tok-tokkie, blokke, and of course pc and TV games. You were always allies during a network game and avoided each others’ territory if you were forced to be on opposing sides.

You observe him with much admiration and respect as he walks ahead of you. He has all the characteristics you would one day like in your partner; kindness, intelligent but modest about it, creativity, a love for nature and animals to name a few personality traits. We should not even get you started on his physical attributes. You swoon every time you see him shirtless (yet you have never seen him naked), only from quick glimpses as you are afraid of him noticing your glances are too keen. You are convinced it would ruin your cherished friendship if he ever was to discover your secret crush.

The two of you climb down a steep hill as you venture deeper into the forest. Droplets of water leap from the forest canopy and plunge all around you in a chorus of soft notes. The moist soil makes it tricky to reach the area below. Suddenly André slips and instinctively grabs on to the nearest object; your arm. You are caught off balance and both of you tumble down the hill. You are hurled against a tree trunk which stops you from tumbling further down. Totally dazed and in awkward pain you take a moment to regain your wits before checking on André. He answers in a rather faint voice...

“I think everything is still in tact. I should really invest in a hiking staff. I’m going to cause the death of both of us someday due to my clumsiness. Sorry for taking you down with me,” says André.

“No harm done,” you reply.

You pull on a nearby branch to help you get to your feet. As you do so you could have sworn the tree moved. All of a sudden two bulky tree trunks come swooping down towards you and André. The two of you are engulfed by a giant wooden claw each. André yelps from shock where you are dumbfounded. Within a hard, thorny grasp your eyes meet that of the tree’s. Moments pass as the two of you observe the other. His giant green eyes are fixed on you; feeling as if his glance is piercing your very being in search of your soul.

“Bu-ra-rum!” the ent exclaims in a slow, booming voice. “Why have you awoken me from my deep slumber? It is not yet time to welcome the sweet embrace of spring.”

“The tree is talking... what on earth is happening?!” André yelps.

“Calm down, André,” you reply. For some reason you are rather relaxed. You can sense from the ent that he is not a malevolent tree spirit. He is simply an ancient spirit who has been disturbed from his rest.

“We apologize, great spirit. We did not mean to disturb you from your state of slumber. We have fallen down the slope there yonder and fortunately for us, you have saved us from spiralling further down,” you address the ent.

“In that case, glad I could be of assistance, Shepherd,” the ent says. The ent releases the two of you from his twiggy grasp and place you firmly on the moist soil. “You have bumped your heads against the roots of Blessedbark. That is my name. What be your names, young masters?”

“I am called [Insert your name here] and this is my good friend, André,” you respond to his question. Blessedbark’s gaze falls onto André. André cowers at first, but as the ent peers into his soul, he also gains a calmer state of mind. “Why have you called me Shepherd?” you ask.

“You do not know? You have the spirit of a Shepherd of the Forest. Both of you have. They were an order of mystic beings who have safeguarded us forest dwelling beings from humans and the evil they ensue. Ages ago the humans started to capture us, torture and experiment on us, in order to find the source of our mystical powers. Few humans then were bestowed magical powers and only very few today still have a remnant of that magical power. The Shepherds of the Forests specifically warded we who dwell in woods and forests; ents, dryads, nymphs, fairies, satyrs, there are quite a few of us who dwell across the Veil here amongst you still,” Blessedbark explains.

Soon Blessedbark gently lifts you and Andre and places you on his shoulders. Off he goes even deeper into the forest towards his home, named Blessed Grove. The beauty and enchantment of the forest grows greater the deeper you venture forth. Much to your delight you steal glimpses of shy creatures peering at you from behind the cover of trees, ferns and mushrooms. As soon as the faeries and nymphs realise you have spotted them, they immediately retreat and hide themselves once more. André giggles at their surprised expressions. You realize that they must not be used to humans being able to see them.

After a slow ride you finally reach Blessed Grove. It is magnificent... You are greeted by welcoming warmth and your sense of sight is bedazzled by an arrangement of soft, pink lights. As you look down you observe a stream and the tiny flickering lights of white and pink dancing on its peaceful surface. As you look up you marvel at the majesty of the ancient trees. A whole family adjoined by hand would not be able to hug one of these trees, so wide are their stems. The most incredible part of the grove is the single tree located at its center. The warmth and light of the grove is sourced by this single tree, which is much smaller in comparison to her surrounding kin, yet her beauty and majesty is unmatched. She reminds you of an azalea bonsai, the perfect bonsai. Everything about her is in complete balance. No matter from which angle you glance at her, you’ll always marvel at her pink radiance and splendour. You are drawn to her. She whispers your name.

“’Blessed Grove’ is not only my home, but that of the Heart of the Forest and the rest of us. The Sacred Tree you are looking at provides us magical folk the means of staying on this side of the Veil. It is here where our ancestors discovered a new earth and it is here where my brethren and I were born and wish to dwell,” says Blessedbark.

“I am one of many of its guardians. Long has it been since Shepherds have laid eyes on it. It, of course, knows you are here and is pleased that not one but two members of the long lost order have returned. Come, she beseeches your council....”

“Bara-rum! I almost forgot! Folk of the forest despise anything unnatural or artificial, especially the Heart of the Forest. You are to present yourselves in a respectable fashion by removing your clothes. Here you have no need for such mocking cover,” says Blessedbark.

Blessedbark strikes a nerve.

“Completely naked?” you ask Blessedbark.

“It is our custom. We are all in our natural state. She would not have it any other way,” says Blessedbark whilst gesturing at his own body. Only now do you notice that an Ent resembles the male body more than you thought it would. Blessedbark has a great wooden blade dangling between his two stumps for legs!

André shrugs, turns around and hesitantly starts undressing. You follow suit... Soon enough the two of you stand sky-clad next to Blessedbark, both covering the most vital bits with your hands. You wriggle your toes nervously, not even sensing the grass is feather soft. You peer at André and notice he is just as uncomfortable as you are. Blessedbark pushes the both of you along towards the Heart of the Forest. As you approach her divine embrace you sense the warmth she emits even more so. It lifts your heart and purges your mind of all its worries and troubles. You let go of your shyness and with new found grace and self-assurance you respectfully bow to her. She addresses you and André both in a haunting, melodic voice. The pink light she emits faintly intensifies with each vowel she utters.

“Hallowed am I and my kin to have two Shepherds of the Forest amongst our midst once more. And thank you Blessedbark for finding our long lost guardians and leading them here,” says the Heart of the Forest as Blessedbark nods in recognition.

“You must have many unanswered questions. I shall restore your beings to its former state. Soon then your spirits shall remember the old ways. Then you shall be able to fulfil your destiny, Shepherds... Renewed is your knowledge of the ways of forest. Renewed is your bond with the magical kin. Renewed are your skills and powers... Renewed you return to us... You bring us a flicker of hope. With your aid, maybe man and magical folk, once more, will share this earth in peace and prosperity,” says the Heart of the Forest.

“Thank you, Mother,” both you and André respond synchronously.

“Blessedbark is to be your ward. He shall guide and enlighten and prepare you. We shall meet soon again, Shepherds,” says the Heart of the Forest.

Once again Blessedbark lifts you up and place the both of you on his shoulders. He follows one of the dark paths leading from the clearing.

“Who would have thought mythical beings actually exists?! And that we are descendents of an ancient order who served as their guardians?! This is all so surreal!” André exclaims. “I don’t feel any different, nor do I now have any of that knowledge she mentioned. I wonder what these skills and powers are she mentioned.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, young Shepherds,” Blessedbark responds.

“Oh, how mysterious... seems like we’re in for more surprises,” you say.

Being naked has completely slipped your mind as you and André ponder about what powers the Shepherds of the Ancient Forests actually had at their disposal. Blessedbark smiles at some of your thoughts, for he knows the super hero powers you guess are not that far off from what you and André soon will be able to perform.

Amongst your ramblings you hear the faint sound of dripping water in the distance. With every giant step Blessedbark takes, the sound becomes more audible up until you reach the source. Blessedbark has led you to a small spring. Drops of water trickle from a peculiar looking rock, almost the shape of a great bird bath. As the drops topple towards the earth, they are captured by the giant multi-coloured leaves of an unknown plant, which gently directs the water to the surrounding flora. It is as if the plant shares his bounty of water with his rivals.

Blessedbark lifts you from his shoulders and lowers you gently until your feet touch the moist earth. You wriggle your toes again, this time enjoying the softness and squishiness underneath each of your toes. You notice Blessedbark doing something similar with his root like feet; probably absorbing some of the water. Even André is pressing his toes into the squishiness. Oh, what handsome feet he has; large and manly and shaped perfectly. You even adore the small tufts of hair at the base of each of his toes. His feet support his strong, well-formed legs. Playing hockey has done wonders for his chiselled calve and bulging quad muscles... You gasp as you come to the realization you are staring at his blade and pommel gems happily dangling in their new found freedom. You glance at your blade and are rather pleased to see your blades must have been forged by the same blacksmith, for they look rather similar. Both of you are ringbearers and have swords that tend to be on the thinner, but longer side.

“Wow”, you think to yourself. You then look the other way before you get yourself battle ready. Little did you know that at that moment André was eying your weaponry right after.

Your Ent friend now has a wooden goblet in his hand. He lowers and keeps it below the outer rim of the rock’s basin and allows it to fill up half way with the clear spring water. He then drops a pinch of earth into the goblet, along with a piece of his bark, the tip of a giant fern leaf, a piece of one of the giant mushrooms, a brown feather and a small lock of dark hair. Where did he get all those items and so quickly? He mixes the concoction with his finger. As he removes his finger, the goblet starts to glow green from inside, only for a moment.

He hands you the goblet and says, “This, my friends, should restore the essence of your Shepherd spirits. Within this goblet are the seeds of all the powers you shall need in the days to come. Drink up and soon those seeds will sprout and grow and enmesh with your beings.”

You and André hesitantly do as Blessedbark commands. The concoction tastes sweet, which you did not anticipate. It tastes like the gum from a tree. You don’t feel any different after you’ve taken a few sips.

“Night shall veil the forest in darkness soon. I suspect the two of you are weary from the day’s excitement. Please find a bed of soft and fragrant grass and ferns behind you. I shall see you tomorrow morning again and greet you as Shepherds,” says Blessedbark.

The two of you were weary indeed. You only uttered a few words from the day’s events before both of you drifted off into a deep slumber...

Before dawn you find yourself lying in André’s arms. You must have crept into his arms. You feel uncomfortable, yet at home at the same time. You close your eyes for a few more winks when André suddenly moved from his spooning position. As he moves you feel something poking you at your one butt cheek. As the unknown object slides away you turn your head to face your friend.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hold you like that... I feel so embarrassed...” André says in a shaky voice.

The enigmatic, glowing mushrooms around you illuminates his sad face with various shades of green. As he looks away in shame you notice his facial features are somewhat different. His hair is thicker. His wavy locks gleam in the forest light. Somehow one of his locks of hair is braided, with the tip of the lock fastened with a feather. His eyebrows too are bushier and shaped like antlers... his chest is now garlanded in wondrous fur, now even more so than before. You touch his furry chest and confirm at some spots the fur is in fact bark. This same natural feature is situated at his forearms and underarms and probably down by his...

You witness the culprit of the poking you received earlier. André tries to cover his glorious battle-ready blade as much as he can, but with little success.

“So there’s something I need to tell you,” says André, looking at you with a heart rendering facial expression. “With you lying so close next to me I could not resist but to take you in my arms. I have always been attracted to you. The touch and the smell of the one I have yearned for for so long now has gotten me all...”

You smile at André before he can finish his sentence. You pull yourself up from where you have reclined and reveal your battle-ready blade to your friend.

“As you can see, the feeling is totally mutual, my dear tree hugging friend,” you tell André. You lean forward and sit right in front of him. Here you fold your legs around his torso. Now with an excited facial expression he follows suit. Your blades meet in battle, your lips lock with his and exploring hands slither across tempting skin. The taste of his mouth is masculine and salty, his smell alluring and his touch inviting.

After several moments of kissing and caressing, you take a break to feast your eyes on the new Shepherd bodies you have developed. Blessedbark and the Heart of the Forest have endowed your bodies with the essence of nature. Your skin has become as resilient as bark. Your beings have become stronger and more muscular. You can feel immense strength in your hands and your feet now are covered by a network of roots.

You are in tune with nature and your surroundings. You can sense the state of the trees around you, as well as the other flora, the earth and even nearby beings. You close your eyes and absorb the knowledge of the immediate area nature reveals to your spirit. You enjoy your new found ability up until André distracts you by bashing his blade against yours.

“Have you noticed not only do we have bigger, stronger muscles, but our blades as well. Well mine now certainly has become a whopper,” André says giggling.

Not only were your blades larger, but your full pommel gems rested on the ground like juicy, ripe fruit a tree was unwilling to carry any longer.

“Indeed,” you respond. You embrace André firmly whisper in his ear; “This is absolutely the most cherished day of my life thus far and I have a feeling there is to be many such days to come, as long as I have you by my side. Not only shall I be a Shepherd of the Forest, but a Shepherd of your heart as well.”

This then concludes my little tale of the Shepherds of the Forest II. It is definitely one of my favourite themes to work on as I consider myself a tree hugger. The fantasy connection, of course, is the majestic Ent, a.k.a Treant. This story has taken me so long to write that my laziness has forced me to snatch a description of the ent online. Here is a description of Treebeard, the oldest of the Middle-earth Ents as described by Tolkien; “A large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least fourteen foot high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck. Whether it was clad in stuff like green and grey bark, or whether that was its hide, was difficult to say. At any rate the arms, at a short distance from the trunk, were not wrinkled, but covered with a brown smooth skin. The large feet had seven toes each. The lower part of the long face was covered with a sweeping grey beard, bushy, almost twiggy at the roots, thin and mossy at the ends. But at the moment the hobbits noted little but the eyes. These deep eyes were now surveying them, slow and solemn, but very penetrating.”

The only movie appearance of Ents I have come across would be in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. There are several games however where you play as an Ent, have one as an ally, or even have to defend yourself against the onslaught of dark Ents. These games include Heroes of Newerth, Icewind Dale II, the World of Warcraft series, as well as the Heroes of Might and Magic series.

“Ents, also called Onodrim by the elves, are a very old race that appeared in Middle-earth when the elves did. They were apparently created by Eru Ilúvatar at the behest of Yavanna after she learned of Aulë's children, the Dwarves, knowing that they would want to fell trees. Ents were envisioned as Shepherds of the Trees, to protect the forests from orcs, Dwarves and other perils. The Elves have tales of teaching the trees and the Ents to talk: although the Ents were sentient beings at the time, they did not know how to speak until the Elves taught them. Treebeard spoke of the Elves "curing the Ents of their dumbness" that it was a great gift that could not be forgotten ("always wanted to talk to everything, the old Elves did").”

http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Ents

Warriors at Ease

2011-02-08T06:46:00.007+02:00

Those Warriors who Find Themselves in Moments of Peace

Fantasy equal: Warrior

As a soldier of a great army, not all of the time was spent traveling, training and fighting. Some days were spent resting in camp, converging with allies, raiding defenseless villages or waiting on the enemy or your next tactical move.

Not being on patrolling duty and with the knowing there is no immediate threat, I wonder what warriors at ease would do in their spare time. Some would tend to the horses and livestock, not out of duty perhaps, but for the love of animals. Some would seek adventure in whatever terrain they find themselves; go hunting, or foraging or hiking or if lucky go swimming. Many would play games. Try their luck at dice or even take part in some competitive sport, like running, archery or javelin throwing. Most however, would probably sleep and rest their weary bodies.

One thing I am sure of is they would not wear heavy pieces of armour if they had no need to. This makes me think; in a camp of all male soldiers, to what degree was nudity tolerated amongst these men, especially in ancient times, when we know man was a tad more uncivilized than what we are today?

It is a fantasy of mine to be taken back in time and visit all the great ancient empires in their times of glory. To explore their ancient cities would be a dream come true. I would pay my respects at the local temple, marvel at their majestic wonders, visit their bustling agora, take a dip at the local baths and experience life of a soldier at their training grounds. I believe men of ancient times pranced around sky-clad often, especially in each others’ company. This is the theme for this collection; a representation of bare warriors enjoying a time of peace and respite and not having a care in the world.

Stallions at the Rady II

2011-02-04T06:34:00.009+02:00

Those Awaiting their Masters’ Ascend

Fantasy equal: Unicorn

The Unicorn can probably be seen as one of the most beloved mythological creatures of fantasy. It shares the podium with the likes of great dragons, tiny fairies and graceful merpeople.

From all records of myths and legends, the unicorn has enchanted the imaginations of medieval folk the most. The unicorn is a beast wild and free that dwells unseen in nature’s bosom. It is pure of heart and a symbol of goodness and purity. Its most distinctive feature is of course its horn, which has the ability to cure any poison or ailment or dispel any curse or negative spell. For this reason the unicorn was hunted down. Poachers initially had great difficulty in tracking these enigmatic beasts, but soon they found a way to lure the unicorn from the shadow. They learnt that the unicorn’s wildness can be tamed by the touch of a fair maiden. Using the charm and beauty of a fine lass, poachers were able to slaughter and harvest the unicorn’s horn for their own selfish needs.

A while ago the TV show Merlin featured the magnificent unicorn. Arthur, Prince of Camelot, tracked and then hunted a unicorn to present its horn as a gift to the king. The king, Uther Pendragon was a tyrant who destroyed and murdered all things and all creatures of magic. Therefore a unicorn’s horn would have made a fine gift indeed. By slaying the unicorn Arthur cursed Camelot. In doing so, he brought drought, famine and suffering to his people. Arthur was devastated at what he had done and wanted to make amends. That is when the Keeper of the Unicorns, named Anhora, made his appearance. He told Arthur the only way to break the curse was to pass three tests or challenges in order to convince Anhora that he is truly goodhearted. With Merlin’s help Arthur passed his tests, the curse was lifted and the unicorn was miraculously revived.

The unicorn has made its appearance in three films from not too long ago; the first being the enchanting tale of Stardust. Yvaine, the fair maiden in the story, finds herself in a bit of a pickle. She is chained to a tree where she is to remain up until her captor comes back for her. A unicorn is drawn to this damsel in distress and is charmed by her beauty and innocence. He dispels her magical bonds and off they go to somewhere that is safer.

The second film is Narnia; The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. I am under correction here, but I think the unicorn was the steed of King Peter during their battle against the wicked White Witch.

And lastly, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone shows images of a dead unicorn, which was hunted by the Dark Lord, for he could only sustain himself by drinking the silver blood of a unicorn.

In the gaming world I can recall having the unicorn as an ally in the games of Heroes of Might and Magic as well as Oblivion. In Oblivion you are able to tame a unicorn to become your trusty steed. And you don’t even have to have boobs to do this. Having a blade was fine by this unicorn. What made having the unicorn irritating, however, is that the unicorn attacks anything that strikes the first blow at something else. Were you to shoot a baddy from afar, your not so trusty unicorn would attack you.

So, below you would find stallions, or unicorns or unicorns of a different kind, that are wild and feral and in need of not a damsel, but a handsome prince to tame their kind, but wild hearts... and set off to the far horizon... and live happily ever after...

“It was traditionally believed that a virgin who was naked sitting beneath a tree could only catch the delicate unicorn. The unicorn, who craves purity, would be irresistably drawn to the girl and lie down with his head in her lap. While it slept, the hunter could capture it. If, however, the girl was merely pretending to be a virgin, the unicorn would tear her apart.

Throughout the stories of the unicorn, its horn, the alicorn, is said to have great medicinal powers. In Ctesias’ writings, the dust filed from the horn was supposed to protect against deadly diseases if mixed into a potion. Or, if you drank from the horn, you would be protected against any poison.

Often, a narwhale tusk was sold as an alicorn, and it was often ground up and used for its magical properties.”
http://monsters.monstrous.com/unicorns.htm

Rome: The Substitute

2011-01-29T07:58:00.006+02:00

Another Roman themed comic for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

Desert Patrol

2010-11-27T21:33:00.018+02:00

I’ve come across these glorious scans of a coffee table book, called Desert Patrol (Photography by Dook) once more. They are absolutely magnificent. The images convey a story; a fantasy of desert guardians watching, protecting and nurturing not only their barren lands, but one another as well.

Warriors of Fantasy: Wielders of Slashing Blades

2010-11-27T20:58:00.010+02:00

Those who Hack and Slash with Deadly Strikes

Fantasy Equal: Drizzt Do'Urden
Favoured By the Race of: Drow (Males only however)
Favoured By the Class of: Fighter
Damage Type: Slashing

It is well known that the weapon of choice of most warriors is the sword. Sure, weapons like the spear and dagger have been used since prehistoric times, but the sword has become a legendary weapon in many a fantasy tales and historic records. Unlike the bow, spear and axe, the sword was solely used for battle and has become synonymous with warfare and military power. So much prestige and honour is associated with the sword, that men were knighted by the king or queen wielding a ceremonial sword. Several phrases are also based on the sword, like ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ and “live by the sword and die by the sword”.

Through ancient and medieval times and even from the minds of creators of fantasy, the sword has taken on many forms, designs, adornments and sizes. The sword’s origin is from a simple solid shard, known as the dagger. During the Bronze Age, swords were still less than 60 cm long. Were they forged longer than that, the bronze would tend to bend, leaving it unpredictable and yielding when thrusting attempting to stab a target. They then did not yet have the material or then technique to forge greater, superior swords. The Iron Age dawned with the collapse of the bronze producing civilizations. Iron was in ample supply and so followed the forging of iron weapons, which were stronger and harder than their bronze counterparts. The iron sword used by the ancient Greeks is known as a xiphos, where the Romans forged a similar blade known as a gladius; a blade well known for its use by gladiators. During the Middle Ages swords were forged from steel instead. Every single knight and foot soldier wielded a sword, accompanied by a shield and perhaps a bow. A sword mounted on the side of a man’s belt was a common sight, even on peasants, for you never know when you had to fight for your honour, that of a loved one or for your country.

A sword primarily consists of two parts, the blade and the hilt. The bottom, rounded tip of the hilt is known as the pommel and is sometimes decorated with gems or jewels. If you have not noticed yet, I use the sword terminology when referring to or describing a penis, dick or cock, since I find it less obtrusive and a better fit for the theme of this blog. Simply put; blade = penis, tip of blade = head of penis and pommel gem = testes. If you haven’t realized this before, now you know, :).

I’ve chosen a character from the Forgotten Realms as the fantasy connection of Wielders of Slashing Blades. His name; Drizzt Do'Urden. Drizzt is a Drow, which is a proud and exiled race of Dark Elves who predominantly live underground, very much like the Dwarves do. Apart from being proud, the Drow is a destructive race with a dark and interesting culture and religion. The females rule with iron fists and males are seen as peons. Drizzt has forsaken both the evil ways of his people and their home (in the Underdark, in the drow city of Menzoberranzan) and thus is one of very few good aligned Drow that dwell in the Forgotten Realms.

On his journeys across the surface worlds, Drizzt has trained in the ways of the ranger. Rangers of the Forgotten realms are renowned for their skill with the bow as well as wielding dual weapons. Drizzt’s favourite weapon is the scimitar (a type of sword) and he wielded two of them. He became so adapt to using his two blades that it is said they were extensions to his own arms as he thrusted, hacked and slashed at his foes with great speed and precision. His scimitars are nicknamed Twinkle and Icingdeath. Twinkle is his defensive scimitar, and is enchanted to aid his wielder in parrying an opponent’s blows. At its pommel a star shaped sapphire is mounted, which faintly glows blue when it detects danger is imminent. Icingdeath again is his offensive sword (wielded in his right hand) and is enchanted to be keen and chilling. It deals cold damage to creatures of fiery origins and protects its wielder from fire-based attacks. The hilt is forged from adamantite and the blade from silver with a diamond edge.

Below is a gathering of swordsman exemplifying their skill and power with their mighty swords. Engage at your own risk...

“Drizzt Do'Urden is a drow. He stands at about 5′4″, (1.63m) and weighs about 130 pounds (59 kg). His handsome features are sharp and well proportioned and like other drow, Drizzt's skin is black and his stark white hair is long, thick, and flowing. His eyes are a lavender hue (quite different from the drow race's typical red, even when he uses his infravision, which normally causes eyes to glow red) and seem to glow fiercely when he is angry or determined. He normally wears a forest-green cloak that was given to him by the Weeping Friars upon his departure to Icewind Dale, high black boots, and a necklace attached to a white unicorn head, the symbol of his goddess, Mielikki, the goddess of rangers. This symbol was crafted for him by his good friend Regis from scrimshaw (bone of the knuckle-headed trout found in Icewind Dale) . It has been many years since Drizzt first ventured into the surface world, but his vision, accustomed to the pitch-blackness of the Underdark, has greatly adapted to the bright surface world, so now when using his infravision, the images, if held for a prolonged period of time, cause headaches and other strained symptoms. At present he is in the neighborhood of 200 years old, having been born in 1297 DR. It is common knowledge that the average lifespan of a drow can be around 700, but accounting for displacement of the natural drow habitat, it is yet to be seen if his potential lifespan will be reached.”
http://forgottenrealms.wikia.com/wiki/Drizzt_Do'Urden
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sword

Zodiac

2010-11-24T06:15:00.001+02:00

This fine little collection has been hosted on many a sites and totally deserves an honoury spot on this blog as well. It is a representation of the Zodiac, created Joe Phillips, illustrated in the way we appreciate the most. I am rather disappointed in my guy (the slightly feminine Virgo), but hopefully I snatch the heart of mister Bull or Ram! Enjoy!

Robin Hoog V

2010-11-21T08:40:00.001+02:00

This then concludes the amazing fantasy comic, Robin Hoog. If anyone has any news on any updates to the comic, please let me know!

Colt Legends

2010-11-06T14:58:00.006+02:00

There’s no doubt that I personally love the Colt models, especially those from the vintage era; for they are simply more masculine than the models we see today. These charts link names to unidentified gods you may have crossed paths with. If you fancy the looks of a particular model, go ahead and Google his name. You may just stumble on a hidden treasure.

Parts

2010-11-01T07:06:00.003+02:00

You’ve probably seen these two sets of images on other blogs, but I could not resist posting them myself. Not really all that much fantasy related, but thought these deserve an honourary spot in this blog as well. Which single image from each set do you choose?

Crafters of Old II

2010-09-28T18:44:00.013+02:00

Those Skilled with the Hammer and Anvil

Fantasy equal: Moradin

Each of the races of fantasy realms excel at using a particular set of weapons and possibly a particular type of armour as well. The Elves, for example are formidable archers and aren’t too shabby with a long blade either. Therefore should you be in search of a quality bow, the master craftsmen you should seek out would be that of the Elven kin.

So yes, horsemen have mastered the crafting of spears, wizards the enchanting of staffs, but which race is truly the masters of the forge? The answer is the Dwarves. The pride of Dwarves originates from the length of their beards, their prowess in battle, but most of all from the great halls they build and the armour and weaponry they create.

The quality of an item is not only subject to the skill of its crafter, but to the materials used as well. Since the Dwarves dwell in great mines deep within the rocky crust of the earth, they are able to yield some of the greatest metals used for armour and weapons. Precious rocks and crystals they mine are used for enchanting purposes as well as the crafting of magical rings and amulets.

The fantasy connection for Craftsmen of Old II is Moradin, the Creator God of the Dwarves of the Forgotten Realms. He is the chief deity of the Dwarven pantheon and like all good fathers he is always inspiring his kin. He improves the race of Dwarves by encouraging prosperity, good nature and stimulating smithing, mining and Dwarven engineering.

Moradin is held by many Dwarven creation myths to have been incarnated from rock, stone, and metal, with his soul eternally present in the form of fire. That same fire fuelled the forge in which Moradin created the Stout Folk (Dwarves) and, in some myths, Moradin breathes fire over the first dwarves to bring them to life.

The building I work at is undergoing renovations. I’ve spent several moments watching the builders outside constructing a wall. The whole process of erecting a wall is no easy task. Laying down the foundation, the stacking of bricks, plastering; it all requires skill. I can’t help to wonder why these guys are paid so little here in South Africa. They all have tattered clothing (not so much due to the work they do, but more from poverty I’d say) and equipment. Builders (those who actually do the hard labour and not the lazy foremen) and all other kinds of craftsmen are very unappreciated, in my opinion. So craftsmen all over the world, this collection is dedicated to you and the great objects and constructs you have produced with your blood, sweat and tears....

"Moradin (MOAR-uh-din) is the creator god of the dwarven race and leader of the Morndinsamman. He is said to have created all dwarves, forging them from metals and gems in the fires that lie at the "heart of the world," and breathing life-the first dwarven souls-into the cooling forms. All dwarves appease Moradin, even if they do not wholeheartedly support him. Lawful good dwarves support and work openly to serve the Soul Forger, even if they also worship another deity. His name is invoked by dwarves involved in smithwork or craftsmanship of any sort, and they give him homage by doing their best work and seeking to emulate his stonework and craftsmanship. Moradin is said to inspire dwarven inventions and seeks constantly to improve the race-increasing dwarven good nature, intelligence, and ability to exist in harmony with other living things. At the same time, he battles the pride and isolationist tendencies that occur naturally in his elite creations."
http://www.nj-pbem.com/data/Gods/dwarvengods/Moradin.htm