Post by TheFrumiousJafe on Sept 19, 2007 23:03:55 GMT -5
The bold is the new parts. I'll probably alternate each update with change in BOLD or NOTBOLD. So, liek, I LOFFS fairytales and it'd be totally awesome if I became the next Hans Christian Anderson. Lackaday, it's a short update. These things happen.
The Iron Ring
Darling beloved, I tell thee a tale of a prince, Prince Isaac of the fair land of Oré. As a wee young child, he grew smitten with a fairy maiden he espied one night in a glen. A Fairy Queen, she shone with radiance, lovely and hypnotic to behold. His love of her caught her attention, however, as all good children know, the tender ministrations of the Wee Folk end but naught in destruction and despair. Had he been a minor prince and the fairy maiden a mere serfling, his tale might have ended with less pomp and circumstance, but then what amusement woulds't thee derive from such a tale?
Prince Isaac was son of the High King himself, royal heir of the Kei Sun line to the kingdom of Oré, the child of the child of one of the Twelve Divineheads. As such, his grandmother, the grand matron of the godlets bestowed upon him an iron ring to protect him from the malevolent intentions of his fairy bonnie lass. She warned of the consequences of wooing the Wee Folk and of the consequences of removing the ring. To do such would be treason itself, and the Prince properly punished for it.
As a child, Prince Isaac took heed, and obeyed his grandmother's warnings to the fullest, but as he grew older, his tutors became more lax, his servants indulgent, and to the astonishment of all court and country the Prince grew into a tyrant.
Before both father and mother died of old age, and before the Prince ascended to the throne, a grand ball of three days was thrown with all the young ladies of good breeding in attendance so the Prince may chose his Queen. Women flocked around him painted in bright colors and garbed in fine silks and linens. It would have been the most glorious of balls had it not been marred by the presence of an old crone thrice whom had thrice begged his audience. First she came bearing a rose for shelter. He turned her away. The second time, she came bearing grapes for his hospitality. He had her flogged. The third and final time he ordered her beheaded before she could even speak. Alas, when her head was cleaved from her neck, from her headless body rose the Mouth of the Twelve Divineheads bearing down upon the prince to pronounce judgment, as inevitable and as unavoidable as death. Thrice he had broken laws of hospitality and thrice had he made a mockery of his duties as prince. The Twelve Divineheads had judged and they were angry.
But before the prince could beg forgiveness, the Mouth of the Twelve Divineheads had spake his piece, judgement as unavoidable as the rising of the sun, the changing of the tides, the faces of the moon. Such was the power of his tongue that the voice of the Mouth had more akin to the sound of rumbling thunder and raging of a thousand seas. Ears ached and eyes rolled backwards at the sound of it.
The old woman in the meantime had changed her form. Her crooked frame melted away, her rags did she shake the dust of travel and poverty from, and her bearing was that of a queen five times over. Her face was wrought with disappointment, sorrow, and the merciless and immovable wrath of the Law. Not only the Prince shamed himself in his disgrace, but also had he shamed his noble lineage and his greatest dam. Not merely the Head of the Divineheads, but the grandmother of his grandmother, had he spurned and beheaded.
Death had he doled out in an unjust fashion, so Death would he be doled out in the justice of the Law. She cursed him with life, a life wholly unprotected by the cold metal of iron from the malicious gaze of the Sons and Daughters of Earth and Glen and left him to his fate.
The fairy maiden however, was delighted to learn her pretty boy was no longer protected, and in the wake of the Divine Storm she stole him before the eyes of the terrified court. She took him to glen, then cave, then to the very center of the earth into her kingdom and his golden hair she fondled, his white skin she petted, and with her pretty lips she kissed him ‘til his human countenance sloughed away to reveal his monster. His handsome face malformed, becoming disgusting and nigh unrecognizable. Tusks he grew, longer than the length of the tallest of men, and many mouths filled with gnashing teeth sprouted from his jaw. Multifaceted eyes glittered from black sockets, cruel talons emerged from his gnarled paws, and he grew a tail that split in twain.
Then, when all was done, when his bones no longer ground and squelched, when his violently vacillitating form grew still and solid, the fairy queen cut out his heart.
The Iron Ring
Darling beloved, I tell thee a tale of a prince, Prince Isaac of the fair land of Oré. As a wee young child, he grew smitten with a fairy maiden he espied one night in a glen. A Fairy Queen, she shone with radiance, lovely and hypnotic to behold. His love of her caught her attention, however, as all good children know, the tender ministrations of the Wee Folk end but naught in destruction and despair. Had he been a minor prince and the fairy maiden a mere serfling, his tale might have ended with less pomp and circumstance, but then what amusement woulds't thee derive from such a tale?
Prince Isaac was son of the High King himself, royal heir of the Kei Sun line to the kingdom of Oré, the child of the child of one of the Twelve Divineheads. As such, his grandmother, the grand matron of the godlets bestowed upon him an iron ring to protect him from the malevolent intentions of his fairy bonnie lass. She warned of the consequences of wooing the Wee Folk and of the consequences of removing the ring. To do such would be treason itself, and the Prince properly punished for it.
As a child, Prince Isaac took heed, and obeyed his grandmother's warnings to the fullest, but as he grew older, his tutors became more lax, his servants indulgent, and to the astonishment of all court and country the Prince grew into a tyrant.
Before both father and mother died of old age, and before the Prince ascended to the throne, a grand ball of three days was thrown with all the young ladies of good breeding in attendance so the Prince may chose his Queen. Women flocked around him painted in bright colors and garbed in fine silks and linens. It would have been the most glorious of balls had it not been marred by the presence of an old crone thrice whom had thrice begged his audience. First she came bearing a rose for shelter. He turned her away. The second time, she came bearing grapes for his hospitality. He had her flogged. The third and final time he ordered her beheaded before she could even speak. Alas, when her head was cleaved from her neck, from her headless body rose the Mouth of the Twelve Divineheads bearing down upon the prince to pronounce judgment, as inevitable and as unavoidable as death. Thrice he had broken laws of hospitality and thrice had he made a mockery of his duties as prince. The Twelve Divineheads had judged and they were angry.
But before the prince could beg forgiveness, the Mouth of the Twelve Divineheads had spake his piece, judgement as unavoidable as the rising of the sun, the changing of the tides, the faces of the moon. Such was the power of his tongue that the voice of the Mouth had more akin to the sound of rumbling thunder and raging of a thousand seas. Ears ached and eyes rolled backwards at the sound of it.
The old woman in the meantime had changed her form. Her crooked frame melted away, her rags did she shake the dust of travel and poverty from, and her bearing was that of a queen five times over. Her face was wrought with disappointment, sorrow, and the merciless and immovable wrath of the Law. Not only the Prince shamed himself in his disgrace, but also had he shamed his noble lineage and his greatest dam. Not merely the Head of the Divineheads, but the grandmother of his grandmother, had he spurned and beheaded.
Death had he doled out in an unjust fashion, so Death would he be doled out in the justice of the Law. She cursed him with life, a life wholly unprotected by the cold metal of iron from the malicious gaze of the Sons and Daughters of Earth and Glen and left him to his fate.
The fairy maiden however, was delighted to learn her pretty boy was no longer protected, and in the wake of the Divine Storm she stole him before the eyes of the terrified court. She took him to glen, then cave, then to the very center of the earth into her kingdom and his golden hair she fondled, his white skin she petted, and with her pretty lips she kissed him ‘til his human countenance sloughed away to reveal his monster. His handsome face malformed, becoming disgusting and nigh unrecognizable. Tusks he grew, longer than the length of the tallest of men, and many mouths filled with gnashing teeth sprouted from his jaw. Multifaceted eyes glittered from black sockets, cruel talons emerged from his gnarled paws, and he grew a tail that split in twain.
Then, when all was done, when his bones no longer ground and squelched, when his violently vacillitating form grew still and solid, the fairy queen cut out his heart.