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jaflynnauthor · 3 years

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Darak the Minotaur: Smoke and Flame - Preview

CHAPTER 1

The blade of the ax hit the thick bark of one of the various tall trees in the woods. The tree tumbled with a deep thud which radiated across the forest.

Bending his knees, Darak the minotaur lifts the large trunk with two arms with a gentle grunt, over one broad shoulder. This was all in a day’s work for the mighty creature, who stomped through the woods gathering supplies. Food, water, trees for building fires. Up keeping his cabin wasn’t easy work, it was tedious and caused soreness.

Blue skies and golden rays of sun surrounded the beast as he thumped through the land, dirt kicked up with his every massive step. This was the final tree he would bring back to his home.

His brown fur dripped with beads of sweat. His massive bull head turning left and right. The horns which sat on his head were thick and white, and sharp enough to pierce and slice enemies as a last resort if his hands were somehow bound.

His smooth light brown snout huge, with two large nostrils which moved with every heaving breath. The smell of pine and crisp air put the beast at ease.

As Darak heaves the large trunks back to his cabin, his large, hoofed feet stay undamaged from the various tiny rocks and thorns which littered the woods.

The weather this month was warm, so warm in fact that Darak only walked about in a homemade loincloth, his father and mother had taught him how to sew, how to cut bear skins to make heavy garb. How to use every part of every animal to increase survival. Until the day they died of old age, they guided their son proudly through the woods, teaching him how to survive and to ignore humans as much as possible. The minotaur was now in his young adult years, in his prime for strength and agility.

He hadn’t visited many towns in his life, he hadn’t had much experience with how humans ran their world-but soon that would change. Time and life events can either be kind or cruel, and in Darak’s case, both would collide and change his life forever.

Chopping wood in front of the large cabin, Darak would take time in between chops to admire the birds and squirrels which danced around his home, unafraid of the creature. Leery yes, but animals didn’t hate the minotaur. While these anthropomorphic bulls were uncommon, most just lived their own lives, and went to bed with anyone who would have them.

Darak was 7ft tall, brown furry arms thick as cow hide and muscles that would make a Greek warrior jealous, but he wasn’t a fighter unless provoked. He was a minotaur farmer. Soon to be an accidental warrior.

Once branches were cut and ready to warm his home, Darak stepped into his one-story house.

The cabin held a fireplace in one corner, a large wooden chair sat a few feet from said fireplace. Windows were made of strong glass which casted sunlight throughout the wooden building. To the left of the fireplace, lied a dining room table with mugs and a jug of water collected from a nearby river. He had a Woodcutter’s ax for chores, he had clothes piled in a corner. It was all Darak needed. It was all he wanted.

Nighttime fell, stars covered the sky, crickets chirped in the distance.

Darak sat in his chair, watching the fireplace. The orange and red sparks calmed him, his brown, furred body no longer tense. This relaxed state was common for him, he was so tired from the day’s work that nighttime was almost a blessing. The cabin was so warm, now he wore no loincloth, meaning he was nude, sitting in a position that frankly would be inappropriate in any other setting. Nudity didn’t bother the creature, it was natural. He didn’t think twice about it, clothing was only needed for protection-and protection was in spades in the cabin.

Getting up from his chair, he stretched with a deep groan, his arms, and legs sore.

He poured himself a mug of water and drank noisily. Splashes hit the floor of the cabin, but Darak paid no attention to it. As he gulped his second mug, his ear flicked to the sound of a twig breaking in the distance-and the sound of human voices.

Four muscular men each held swords and torches, and one 7ft tall, green orc held a large, two-handed golden ax. Each of the soldiers had armor which was heavy. There boots also coded with metal. The four humans and one orc were prepared for battle.

This was a moment they all waited for.

The orc spoke in a gravely, deep voice. His armor black. He led the four men through Sitka woods. “We strike two at a time. Remember, we cannot kill the minotaur. The queen wants him alive.”

“I can’t believe we have to listen to you, Martin. An orc no less.” One of the men piped up, he stood right beside the orc. He was hired as second in command.

“Shut up.” Martin spat, his teeth sharp, his eyes black. His greasy hair long and tied into a ponytail. His muscles nearly as well build as Darak. “We’ll never get our coin if we alert the beast now, idiot.”

“Suck my cock.” Whispered the bully. Martin slapped the soldier before continuing with the plan-the plan that would ruin Darak’s life.

The minotaur meanwhile had tied a leather kilt to his waist, studded with gold. He rarely wore it but had it in case an intrusion would happen. No one could be too careful in these brutal times.

Darak never wanted to be a soldier of war like most males. Tonight however-the mighty creature would be tested.

Chapter 2

The glass window was shattered, Darak nearly jumped out of his fur as a burning torch lied on the ground-and the flame erupted. Coating half the cabin in black smoke and fire.

Quickly filling a bucket of cold water from the kitchen, he threw the liquid onto the flame, but it did no good. Perhaps the torch was coated in some sort of black magic, Darak nearly cried as he watched the walls of the cabin slowly succumb to the flame.

He had no choice but to escape the home, the only home he had. Looking at the heavy wooden door, he snorted in anger and charged-with a mighty blow he knocked the door down and stumbled into the dirt below.

His burning cabin close by, the flames only grew larger.

As the minotaur stood at full height, the sound of arrows flew, hitting his tough flesh. The arrows didn’t do much but cause a mild stinging-but he knew he couldn’t stand the pain forever. Darak now knew his cabin wasn’t burned by some freak accident, but by hunters.

From the dark woods, four soldiers stepped closer to the beast as he frantically searched for the source of the attack-arrows continued hitting him, blood dripped from his chest and onto his large legs.

“We’ve got him!” Shouted one of the men. “Keep firing your arrows!”

Frowning, Darak gripped a large tree branch from the ground, using both hands he swung the weapon-hitting one of the four men who stood in a differing area to flank the beast. Bone and flesh were crushed as the single soldier flew with a terrified scream. The now dying soldier crashed to the ground, his arms and legs shattered, blood dripping from the side of his head.

The other three scattered. In a panicked state, Darak heaved the thick branch over his head and crushed yet another soldier, his body practically exploded upon impact, sending limbs, a geyser of blood and pieces of brain matter up towards the stars.

The final two human soldiers were nowhere to be seen. Darak heard no footsteps.

He took this opportunity to remove the arrows lodged in his flesh. Grunting loudly as he did so. The arrows wouldn’t leave lasting damage, but they hurt like hell and would probably make the minotaur sore for the next few days.

He would have turned to lament the burning of his cabin, until a much larger foe came out from the blackness of night. The green skinned creature spoke. “You’ve got a rather good bounty on your head from the queen. So-I will do what I do best, get you to her and collect my payment. First-I must break you. Mentally and physically.”

Martin chuckled and fearlessly walked up to Darak-both were of similar height and strength. However, Darak had anger on his side.

With the cabin burning brightly behind the two fighters, the orc swung the ax left and right, the right swing grazed Darak’s arm.

Martin then lifted the ax above his head, Darak then gripped the weapon by the top of the hilt as it came down toward his skull. He gave the orc a mighty kick to the chest, causing him to stagger back.

Darak knew he couldn’t just crush this creature; he was much too tall and strong.

The ax swings left, instead of dodging the minotaur gripped the ax yet again, inches from the blade. He tugged as hard as he could. Sending the orc falling forward with a surprised yelp.

With the ax in hand, Darak smiled and swung down, his muscles tense lifting the heavy object. Martin rolled out of the way and stood in a fighting stance.

The heat from the burning home caused the two to sweat, smoke began to fill the air and surround them. Martin quickly rubbed his face, to alleviate the feeling of an intense burn from his eyes.

With a deep yell Darak ran toward the orc, knocking him to the ground.

Now the two were further from the burning cabin, the fires still illuminated their personal fighting arena.

With Darak on top of Martin, both fight over the ax, tugging and kicking.

Martin smiled and took a fist full of dirt, slinging rock, and mud into Darak’s blue eyes. With his eyes closed, Martin took the opportunity to send a booted foot to the minotaur’s large groin. Rolling over on his side, Darak clutched his manhood, tears streaming down his face and yelling in pain.

Martin shook dirt off himself, holding the ax once again and looking down at the injured beast.

Martin sighed tiredly, his armor disheveled, his long black hair covered in dirt. His green skin chipped and bruised. “Sorry my furry friend. No man has beat me yet. You gave a good effort though. Now come with me.” He slung the ax over his shoulder confidently.

The woods were still and silent, except for the fire raging in the background and the heavy breathing from a minotaur and orc.

As Darak went to his knees, mud dripped from his face, he snorted like an angry stallion and with a burst of adrenaline, he yet again slammed into Martin.

Not using his foot as he had before, but the one weapon he had left. The two sharp white horns on his head. Both were dug deep into Martin’s gut.

The orc coughed violently.

Looking down at Darak who now looked less humanized and more beastly. Yanking his large head quickly, Martin’s entrails spilled on the ground. He fell forward.

Narrowing his eyes, Darak picked the golden ax up off the ground and admired it.

He approached his cabin, which now was a pile of black ash, wooden walls still stood, but were ultimately unfixable. The piles of black wood smelled strong, smoke still surrounded the woods as the minotaur helplessly sifted through the rubble, hoping to find something-anything to help him rebuild what he had.

***

There was a lake close by the cabin, so Darak sadly trotted to the large body of water to clean his wounds and wipe dry blood from his fur.

He also took time to shine the brand-new ax he now possessed.

He bathed for an hour, the water was warm as bathwater now that the sun had risen and covered the woods.

He took a few dives under the liquid, swimming and trying to ease the soreness of his muscular arms and legs. Nude and swimming in a lake felt freeing-it felt rebellious, it felt right. Washing away the darkness of night to start a new day.

Once the minotaur had dried off, he found himself taking one last look at Martin, he noticed he wore a genuinely nice leather kilt with golden studs. Something the minotaur couldn’t ever afford or make.

He unceremoniously removed it from Martin’s hips and put it on himself. Martin was now left half nude and disemboweled-good enough for him thought Darak.

Sadness filled his soul as he realized he’d never again set foot in the home he grew up in. Those memoires would remain, but now he realized he had to make a tremendous change in his life.

The minotaur’s life was once consumed with everyday tasks. Lifting wood, gathering food and supplies, keeping away from humans.

Now his life would be consumed with the one thing he never thought possible. Vengeance.

Chapter 3

Waking from her peaceful slumber, Queen Adina felt the chilly morning air from her large bedroom window.

Her bed covered in bright red sheets, the walls a darker shade of red.

Getting up to close the window, she smiled.

Being a ruler was fun. The best position one could be in as far as this time in history.

Adina turned, hearing her bedroom door unlock. She didn’t bother covering her bare breasts. She just faced the door, unapologetically on display. Not an inch of her body was flawed as far as she was concerned. Her blonde hair the perfect length, her eyes a striking purple color. Her scent vanilla, her flesh smooth as silk. At 6ft tall, she was as tall as a lot of the men under her iron fist.

Kiev smiled nervously stepping into the room, never knowing what mood Adina held in her heart. Would she smile and wave or give him a nice slap across his slightly hairy chin?

Her right-hand man held a silk black robe for her to slip into.

“Kiev. You’re right on time as always.” She said as she put the garb on.

“Thank you, my queen. Are you hungry?”

“Not now. Is the minotaur in my grasp?” She didn’t bother tying the robe around her waist. She eyed Kiev; she was now a few inches from his face.

That stare. That stern-tell me everything stare she owned got to the soldier every time.

“No, my lady. The minotaur killed them. I-I ran away after I saw how strong he was.”

“Even the orc?” She cocked her head.

“Yes ma’am.” Kiev clenched his fist. His heart pounded. He admitted he ran off after seeing the destruction. A fine soldier he was, sarcasm spoke loudly in his brain.

Surely, she would hurt him badly for this. “You don’t need to fear me.” She smiled and held the young man’s hand.

She was 27. He was 25.

She continued, her voice smooth as silk. Able to seduce any man she wished. “You’ve been nothing but kind. Nothing but submissive. You ran. Yes-it’s a flaw. But you’re such a handsome soldier, I’ll let it slide.” She leaned in and kissed his lips softly; he tasted a hint of cherry enter his mouth as she did so. “You give me my power.”

She placed a soft hand to his cheek which had a bit of scruff.

Kiev’s black hair reached his shoulders, his eyes purple like hers-however he was not part witch.

Kiev would have kept his distance if he could have. Once the unexpected kiss was placed on him, he was done for.

He removed his armor, his vision blurry. His mind not where it should be. This felt like a dream.

Sitting in one of the many cushioned chairs in her bedroom, she spread her legs and he automatically got to his knees. He looked up, seeing her smiling over him.

“I think we have time for a quick round. Brother.” She chuckled as she forced his head between her legs.

Adina sits on her throne. Sipping wine and giving small orders to the soldiers that surround her. The wine holds not only grapes, but potions that make her more awake and stronger. She had barely any muscles, but with the help of dark magic she didn’t need to be a muscular woman.

She wanted the minotaur most of all. Not only was it annoying having him romp in the forests beyond the town, but she also saw a fantastic opportunity. Gladiator fights were once a major source of entertainment for the people of Sitka, but with a lack of bruting men she really couldn’t hold these epic fights.

With a minotaur in the ring though? People would flock to those fights. People would give all sorts of coin to see a beast of that size.

In addition, he could be a great bodyguard for her. When she wanted to take walks. The strength of men satisfied, but a minotaur would give her close to ultimate power.

Everyone feared minitours, dragons-these creatures were the definition of fear. These creatures commanded respect. Adina had respect-but she wanted fear.

The queen looked straight ahead and stood as the double doors of the castle opened.

Stepping closer to her throne were two guards both wearing silver armor and wearing helmets with visors. Both held tight to an elderly man with grey hair and wearing a dirty tunic. His eyes wide and his movements stiff. He had never been brought to the castle before. He had never even seen Queen Adina.

The peasant was forced to his knees once he was close to the throne, two men standing beside the throne drew their swords.

Removing his helmet, the taller of the two peasant abductors spoke. “He was seen trying to steal bread. He said it was for his starving daughter. What say you, old man?”

Adina approached the old man, her footsteps echoed through the castle walls. She smiled sadly, listening intently.

“P-please my queen. I-I only want my family to survive. I don’t have much.” Tears fell from his eyes.

“You want food and drink?” Adina smiled softly, her knee bending to the old man.

“Y-yes. Please. I’ll do anything for it. Anything!”

The queen pets the farmer’s silver hair. “Kiev. Get him a bag of food and wine. Send him on his way.”

Her brother was surprised she showed such mercy. He quickly ran off to get the supplies.

Oh, how happy the farmer was. His walk was confident. His smile noticeable. He would be set for a long time.

Adina then gripped Kiev’s arm and brought him to a room behind the throne, her personal office.

The office was spotless, covered in glass windows where sunlight beamed through. The desk made of a dark red wood with a marble edge. Papers were all alphabetically organized. She was good at keeping papers signed and other kingdoms happy.

“My brother. I have a favor to ask.” She nodded and shut the office door, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes. Anything. You seem to be in good spirits, sister.”

“Good spirits. Yes. But we can’t have peasants stealing things.” She frowned.

“Well, you fixed that farmer. He’s happier than a pig in shit.”

She handed Kiev a paper with various names. The farmer’s name was underlined. Bob Kirk. “You will kill him tonight. Then retrieve the goods I gave him. For their my goods.” She smirked.

Kiev was going to yell. He was going to throw a fit. He was going to perhaps slap her. He kept his cool. “Well, my sister-who am I to cross you? Who am I to say no? An elderly farmer can’t put up much of a fight. Consider Mr. Kirk dead.” He nodded handing her the paper back.

Kissing his cheek, she nodded. “Gather what you need for tonight. Most importantly? Make sure no one knows it was you. Leave no trace. Can’t have people thinking the queen’s right-hand man is a sadistic bastard.”

***

Once the sun was down, and the sky a black mass, Kiev got his sword ready.

The bedroom he got dressed in was so silent, almost calming had it not been for his half-dressed sister reading a book. Sitting on the edge of the red bed, Kiev did indeed wear his armor, combed his black hair which reached his shoulders. His sword was ready, as were his arrows. Adina didn’t pay any mind to the fact he was donning his full soldier outfit. She didn’t care what he did. She knew he’d come back with the job done.

Kiev opened the bedroom door and looked at his sister with a sigh. “Goodnight, sister.”

“Goodnight brother.” She said not even looking at him. She listened to the door close and her brother’s footsteps retreat.

“The bitch won’t get her way this time.” Whispered the soldier as he left the castle grounds, not bothering to turn back.

He knew he’d be fired, hell in these times ‘firing’ sometimes meant execution.

He knew he’d be an outcast. It was worth it to him. His sister was evil-and sometimes to battle evil, you had to do dangerous things.

Read the rest: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262230944-darak-smoke-and-flame

#Darak the Minotaur #Writing #Sample #Fantasy #Wattpad

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thewatchercleric · 5 years

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Curse of Strahd Survey Character

Thank you all for voting on the poll and I know this is late but here he is! A few questions like Race and Name had a big range of options that competed and others like Class and Alignment had a very strong lead, so here is the introduction of Stan.

Stanley Kairon Oakson Jr is a 4th level Glamour Bard with a Haunted One background. Stan is a red skinned, auburn haired tiefling and the youngest of 7 brothers, making him a 7th son of a 7th son. He inherited his father's name and talent for musical instruments. Stan is the only tiefling of his family, all six of his brothers born human, while his race is the mix of a human father and an alu-fiend mother (the daughter of a succubus and human man). Stan is a Chaotic Good Bard who spends money freely on behalf of others. He is not allowed to hold the party's money because he has a habit of giving all his money away to the first person who looks like they could use it. Stan is addicted to a specific dwarven beer and he loves fine clothing, the company of beautiful people, music, and his family. Stan has a phobia of radiant damaging spells and dreams of meeting his soulmate and having seven sons of his own.

Rough Backstory

Many moons ago a young traveling entertainer stopped into a brothel for shelter from the rain.

Inside, the entertainer was rejuvenated by wine, stories, and the company of a beautiful red haired woman.

It was love at first sight and the auburn haired, emerald green eyed, ivory skinned woman joined the simple traveler on his journey.

Nine months later the first brown haired, brown eyed, ivory skinned son was born, Kalium.

Despite the entertainer's almost constant exhaustion, he couldn't be happier with his new family.

One year after that came the auburn haired, brown eyed, dark skinned twins, Mica and Zach.

One year later the pair found themselves just as in love as the first night they met and they welcomed a brown haired, green eyed, dark skinned son, Paris.

Three years later, the entertainer found his health deteriorating even faster. An issue he had been aware of for several years but happiness and love kept the man warm when his immune system didn't.

His auburn haired love nursed him through his illness and the pair welcomed another set of twins into the world soon after. One with fiery hair and green eyes like his mother, and one with the warm chocolate hair and eyes of his father. Rowan and Laurel.

Two years after, still traveling and sharing their happiness with every town they passed through, Stanley Morris Oakson and Vivienne Kaley Oakson welcomed their seventh baby boy into the world, Stanley Jr. With the auburn hair, gold eyes, pointed horns, spade tipped tail, needle teeth, and red skin of his mother's true fiend form.

The alu-fiend who had enthralled Stan's father spent nearly a decade slowly feeding on the man's lifeforce while raising their seven children together.

Once Stanley Senior discovered the truth about his wife, he wrote a ballad for her. The love of his life. Vivi was his world, he would give her the air from his lungs and the blood from his veins. For the mother of his merry little band of boys and the one who held him through his moments of weakness, what was a little life essence and a soul?

Frequent travelling made it easy for the family to keep their secret. A tiefling child wasn't so unusual and with six older brothers, Stan Jr always felt safe.

But by Stan's seventh year, his father's health had begun to take a turn for the worst. The family settled down in a farmhouse just outside of a small but fiercely religious town.

Vivienne did her best to dress modestly like the other women in the town and to keep her eyes on the ground as she led her seven children to the market once a week.

Every shopping trip ended with the same questioning from the townsfolk, "Will you be joining us at church this week?" "Seven boys, I see someone has been busy, hm?" "Shall we pray for you?"

It was only a matter of time before the local priest came to investigate. Posing it as a clerical visit, simply coming to offer his prayers for Stanley's health.

Noting how it seemed odd that local and travelling men alike had started disappearing after the Oakson family settled into town.

It wasn't Vivi's fault Stanley had later protested, his wife needed to feed and he couldn't always satisfy her anymore, he told the boys, much to their chagrin.

Father Yarl was well versed in the various fiends that plagued the world and declared Vivienne to be a succubus.

He called upon the clergy's Paladin, a human man named Harrison, to destroy the fiend. Cornering the family in town between the butcher shop and the local herbalist.

The seven boys tried to stand in front of their mother and Father Yarl declared that they had all been manipulated by the fiend. Vivienne dropped her human guise, unfurled her red leathery wings and faced the paladin to protect her children.

Seven year old Stan Jr. was struck by a stray Sacred Flame cast by the paladin. When he came to again, he found himself with a white scar across his neck and shoulder and his mother nowhere in sight.

It was only a year after that when Stanley Senior passed, there just wasn't enough life energy after Vivienne was done with him, the clergy claimed. But all seven brothers knew it was a broken heart that took their father away.

Sixteen year old Kalium took charge of providing for his younger brothers though they all did their parts.

Kalium apprenticed under a blacksmith who gave the boys a roof over their heads. Mica and Zach helped the local farmers wherever extra hands could be used and brought home leftover food. Paris helped the craftsmen with cleaning and selling wares. Rowan and Laurel helped the local tailor with weaving and sewing.

Meanwhile Stan Jr. took up his father's various instruments and spent his days playing, singing, and telling stories in the tavern, The Headless Raven, for coin.

Stan enjoyed listening to stories just as much as he liked telling them, and travelling adventures had the best stories.

Some adventures told grand stories of discovering dragon lairs and plundering dungeons, rescuing towns and meeting royalty. Others talked of slaying beasts and delving into the Underdark.

Stan was entranced by the story of a certain drunken group who frequently complained about losing one of their younger party members to a minotaur. They claimed they brought the entire labyrinth down and nearly slayed the minotaur within but were betrayed by their apprentice.

The more questions that Stan asked, the more the party would drink, and the more the party drank, the better they would tip Stan for singing their stories back to them.

Stan knew the story by heart by the time the party left town and he was set on finding the demolished labyrinth.

It was good timing for them all. None of the Oakson children were meant to stay in one place. They all were born with their father's nomadic spirit.

Kalium was ready to open his open blacksmithing shop with his mage friend to help him develop new forging techniques. Before leaving he gifted Stan Jr with two enchanted rapiers.

Mica and Zach wanted to travel north to search for exotic spices.

Paris fell in love and wanted to travel across the land with his new partner.

Rowan and Laurel decided to travel for travelings sake.

So Stan was free to find the labyrinth. Swords forged by his brother on his hips, instruments hanging around his neck, and his father's entertainers pack on his back.

Stan performed his way across the land and found magic in his music.

And when Stan found the labyrinth, it wasnt as destroyed and abandoned as the adventures had claimed.

After nearly getting an axe through the head as a hello, Stan made the acquaintance of Little Bo Vine.

Stan always knew he was short. But Little Bo stood almost 7 feet tall, a full 2 heads taller than Stan, and she still claimed she was the smallest of her family, just like him.

Little Bo told him of her older brothers and Stan did the same. Stan also told her about traveling and how much fun he had on his way to find her.

Little Bo didnt have the same passion for 90° angles that her brother had and so she decided to come with Stan instead of continuing to rebuild the labyrinth. Because she declared him "soft and squishy" and "in need of protection".

The two grew close as they bonded over their shared allegiance to the Harpers and not long after starting their adventure they were sent on a mission where they made the acquaintance of a Goliath Paladin who travels with her half-elf Human Wizard half-brother in search of their father, as well as a Dwarven Cleric (who fell head over heels for the Paladin) who travels with his Human Druid friend as they prepare to cleanse a sick forest.

#dnd 5e #dnd #tiefling #glamour bard #long post

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thekingsmanscycle · 6 years

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Karlemon’s Lands: Isagor (continued)

Geography of Isagor

River Bia. The only great river that flows through Isagor, with a source in the Pylaen Hills at Lake Angarano and a mouth in the Bay of Kastokas. Famed far and wide for its rich pastoral land and steep river banks, it is now home to the river trade route between Angarano and the Vestal Sea. In spite of this, it is a dangerous course at many points; with strong riptides, sinkholes, white rapids and shallow rock beds all along its sides.

The Lysandrian Strait. Named for a famous poet of the Elvahen Era, the strait is a highly dangerous body of water to navigate, filled with reefs and whirlpools. Said in former times to be the home of various monsters and ravenous creatures, it runs between mainland Isagor and the southern landmass; called Ixion and Doros respectively. It is not difficult to cross, merely to traverse.

The Isle of Oenale. Said to be the birthplace of the Lydian gods, it is home to the largest collection of Lydian idols and effigies in the Known World. They are stored in a cave beside the sea but hidden from the waves. Known as ‘Nethos’ Grasp’, it is a tight and harrowing experience to enter the tunnels, where it is said the gods themselves watch your every step as the veil between worlds is thinnest here.

The Isle of Helikos. Once home to a large population of beastmen, now only inhabited by the victims of a terrible wasting disease known as Black Canker who were banished from across Karlemon’s Lands to live out the rest of their days here. It is not known how the disease is spread, but local folklore tells that it is the punishment of a forgotten deity for being cast out of the pantheon in the days before the City of Kash.

The Isle of Carysos. Said to be home to a shape-shifting witch in the days of Atticus, this large island south of the mainland houses a large population of boars and wild pigs for slaughter and sale onto markets in Dalecar, Tylia and Cosima. It is also home to a small branch of the Arcanum Nobilite which studies natural magic i.e. druidry in relative seclusion and peace under the auspices of the Dhi Qaar.

Mount Lykoreia. The highest peak in Isagor, it is sacred to Bromos and a temple shrine sits atop the summit where on Midsummer’s Eve the god of fertility is worshipped in his aspect of the wolf. There are day and night long orgies of food, drink and sex, aimed at increasing the harvest in the coming months. This practice has been extant for close to two thousand years, dating back to the satyrs and centaurs who would drink here beneath the moon.

Landmarks of Isagor

Mount Orthrys. A great peak of the eastern Pylaens, Mount Orthrys is an infamous and prestigious site in Isagori culture. Formerly the site of a shrine to Elene, goddess of the moon, the notoriety of the mountain grew in stature following the Titan’s War of 1022-24 CE, when it became well-known as the final resting place of the Hell’s King, the fire giant rebel Sintan Scarbrand. The traitorous warlord was slain by the warrior and storm giant Uthal Skywatcher. who left his adversary’s corpse impaled upon the mountainside.

The Palace of King Nestor. Legend from the southern island of Isagor speaks of this great marble and stone palace, built as a trap for unwitting human victims following the defeat of the beastmen in open battle. ‘King Nestor’, a were-bear of a vengeful and angry temperament sought to draw in the youths of surrounding villages and sacrificing them on a green jade floor to feed the labyrinthe beast that the king had bred to hunt in the darkness below,

The Mausoleum of Antisseo. The modern day pilgrimage site for the great Cosiman bard Antisseo Macarici, it is a small and unassuming tomb at the centre of a great petrified forest, about which the bard composed his masterwork ‘The Calliopiad’. This magnum opus details the long and sordid life of Calliope, an archaic Isagori bard who had many lovers and children throughout her life whilst dodging the advances of the jealous godling Phyrixus. After Phyrixus kidnaps Calliope’s bride, she chases her tormentor into the Halls of Nethos and slays him with the help of a magical lyre.

The Stratiotai. The longest avenue in Artepolis is a monument to the great military heroes and heroines of Isagor, as sculpted by the Akademia of Jeradri. Amongst their number are counted Atticus, hero of the Nethosiad; Ursa Kalkhos, general at the Battle of Byzauros; Enkelados Thalassa, famous leader of the elite Akritoi light infantry units and Kalanthe, the heroine of the texts of the Lydaead who is represented as a servant of Solus for her military background and service.

Wildlife of Isagor

Pegasus. A winged horse sacred to the early Isagori, it is a rare but welcome sight outside rural communities who interpret them as a sign of favour from local spirits or the gods.

Melagean Boar. A particularly stubborn and vicious porcine creature from the foothills of the eastern Pylaens, they are a dangerous plague on farmers during their biannual mating season.

Hydra. A multi-headed serpentine creature native to the swamps of central Isagor, it was once considered a rite of passage for young men and women of the Isagori to hunt them.

Selakh. An unusual remnant of the ancient beastmen races that once dominated the lands of Isagor, these ferocious sharkmen prowl the coasts of Isagor, hunting in packs for straggling fishermen.

Karakond. Grey skinned goblin-like creatures from western Isagor, they are a plague on households and will try to intimidate families into leaving by imitating ghosts and demons.

Basilisk. A pot-bellied reptilian creature from the southern island of Isagor, it is a bane to travellers in the hot countryside where it paralyses its prey with a petrifying gaze before devouring them whole.

Demi-human Races of Isagor

Centaur. A nomadic people of the Pylaen Hills, they were driven south into Isagor by marauding beastmen and orcs in the millenia before the arrival of humans. They are fierce warriors and fiercer drinkers, leading to infrequent but violent clashes with human settlements.

Satyr. A diminutive goat-legged race, they live in the wilderness of Isagor enjoying a life of revelry and leisure, occasionally venturing into human villages to steal away the best-looking to join their partying for the night. Some are sworn to the retinue of Bromos, Lydian god of the wilderness and revelry.

Nymph. Mischievous spirits of nature, they live bound to trees, rivers and mountains and play tricks on passing travellers, who know to leave them an offering to be left in peace. Some fall in love with humans and may leave their homes for up to a year at a time before returning to their sites to rest.

Medusa. A much-feared but rare race of near-immortals, medusae are hunted for their powers of petrification through eye contact. The majority hunt via this method, but some are more curious and hide amongst human society, learning and living as one of them for years before settling down or returning to their fellows.

Isagori Folklore

King Maides. This myth from the lands of Phylidaeia concerns a king whose vanity and love for the lustre of gold drove him mad. He tried to steal the source of the forge from Phaeston, god of mankind so that he could smelt gold from any material, even stone. For his insolence he was cursed by Nerys to ‘make his household unto gold’, meaning that he would cover every surface and retainer in golden paint, before melting down the treasury and covering his throne room and three daughters in molten gold, before drinking it himself.

The Lydaead. Accounted by the scholar Arsinoe of Theskelos, the Lydaead is the name of a saga which informs much of the common religious thought in human lands to this day. The story follows the elderly heroine Kalanthe looking back at the end of her life and recounting to her great-grandchildren the beginning of the world. In the tale she speaks with the seneschal of the gods while dreaming after a battle and is taught about their existence and place in the heavens.

Cyclops. One eyed giants of immense size, they are rare anywhere but the remote wilderness of Isagor. They are man-eaters, and may besiege a town to gather food for long winters in the form of live captives. Isagori myth tells of their birth in the age of giants as the children of a great general of the hill giants who were all half-blinded for looking upward at the sun while it was being set in the sky and disobeying the laws of the earth.

Minotaur. A bull-headed race of beastmen resident in Isagor since long before the arrival of humans, minotaurs are for the most part savage and violent, living feral in ruined villages in the wilderness. A few individuals however, hear the call of higher powers, gaining a measure of intelligence and humanity. This can be for good or ill, as both gods and demons may compete for the loyalty of these powerful creatures.

Nethosiad. In a popular myth from Isagor, a group of mortal heroes sail into the Lydian underworld. Banished for killing Urian, son of the king Hylaeos, the hero Atticus is banished to the Underworld and told to seek the favour of his victim, where it is thought he will perish. Not deterred, he recruits a crew of thirty of the greatest heroes and heroines of his age to sail alongside him and they traverse the Far Ocean to find the Halls of Nethos. There the crew meet each of the Vanathes and must complete a task set by each before meeting Nethos himself.

Rhdanthe of Hesperidis. One of the greatest satires and farces ever written, it is also one of the most violent plays ever performed. Known as the playwright Antigone’s masterwork, the Tragedy of Rhdanthe of Hesperidis details the tale of a self-aware princess in the court of Gerenion, father of Maides, who is constantly avoiding the hyperviolent and nonsensical deaths of her fellows and family members, all of whom are patisches and parodies of other famous tragic characters of Common Era. Written as a criticism of the tragic tradition, it is considered to be one of the most important works of theatre ever made by human hands.

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Get lost in Britain’s best mazes at stately homes

From mystical labyrinths to planted puzzles of twists, turns and dead ends in stately home gardens, Lawrence Alexander gets lost in Britain’s best mazes

There’s a scene in Jerome K. Jerome’s classic Three Men in a Boat where Harris, one of the three friends, offers to show the other two around the maze at Hampton Court Palace. It is, he claims, so simple it seems hardly worth the two pence admission charge, but admits the only time he ever went in he lost an entire party of people – including the maze-keeper – within its hedges.

We still tend to think of mazes as frothy pastimes for family days out. Maize mazes crop up in farmers’ fields, giant puzzle mazes are found in the grounds of stately homes and, of course, Hampton Court’s maze still confounds visitors.

Labyrinth or maze?

A labyrinth carved into Rocky Valley at Tintagel in Cornwall. Credit: Joan Gravell/Alamy

According to tradition, labyrinths are ‘unicursal’, consisting of a single pathway with no dead ends or deviations. As long as you follow the path you will find the centre. Mazes are generally ‘multicursal’, with as many dead ends and paths as possible to confuse the visitor. As a further complication, the famous ‘labyrinth’ of Greek mythology, constructed by Daedalus to incarcerate the monster Minotaur, would have needed to be a multicursal maze to be effective.

The forebears of mazes – labyrinths – have mystified the world since time immemorial, and their true purpose is often obscure. The Rocky Valley labyrinths at Tintagel in Cornwall – a pair of mysterious carved symbols – could be 4,000 years old, though some argue the tools needed to create them would make them at their oldest Celtic and even, possibly, 18th century.

Ancient petroglyphs, Roman floor mosaics, early English carvings and medieval church floors all point to labyrinths having a deeper, devotional meaning. They appear over doorways, on church bells and on all manner of everyday objects – coins, stoneware, even a laundry mangle-board – as talismans against evil spirits.

A labyrinth on Bryher, the Isles of Scilly. Credit: David Chapman/Alamy

Perhaps most intriguing of all are the labyrinths we can physically enter ourselves, whether roundels of small boulders on a beach on the Scilly Isles or a turf-cut maze in a country house garden. The earliest surviving ‘walkable’ labyrinths in Britain are found in Roman mosaics, either as key-shaped borders or entire floors. There are five recorded in Britain, but they were so popular is it likely there were many more.

Mizmazes

Just eight ‘ancient’ turf mazes survive. They are known by many names, from mizmaze and mazle to Shepherd’s Ring, Maiden’s Bower, Robin Hood’s Race and, often, Troy Town or Walls of Troy, as legend holds that the walls of the ancient city of Troy were deliberately built in a confusing way.

The mysterious mizmaze on Breamore Down, Hampshire, is in a yew-grove near a Bronze Age burial mound and is inaccessible by car. Its paths follow the medieval Christian pattern, matching that of the nave at Chartres Cathedral in France. Local folklore suggests the mizmaze was built by the nearby monks of St Michael’s Priory, who would crawl along it as penance or in substitute for a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

Thought to be from the 18th century, another mizmaze at St Catherine’s Hill, Winchester is the only surviving square-shaped ancient turf maze. It rises slightly to the north of the village of Chilcombe, which has traces of an ancient Iron Age fort and a chapel dating to around 1080. As local tradition has it, the maze was created by a schoolboy in detention from Winchester College, but over the centuries the story has grown so that in the same, clearly extra-long detention, he also composed the school song Dulce Domum before drowning himself in the river Itchen.

The house with two mazes

The turf maze at Saffron Walden. Credit: Philippe Hays/Alamy

Maze fans could do worse than head to Saffron Walden in Essex, which boasts two historic examples of mazes from different eras. On the town’s grassy common lies the largest surviving ancient turf maze in the world, a whopping 46m by 33.5m, though legend suggests it is merely a copy of a much larger maze.

The maze was nearly lost in 1814 when a landowner tried to enclose the common, but the intervention of local banker and maze fanatic Atkinson Francis Gibson saved it. Not everyone was as keen to take care of the maze: the ash tree that once grew at its centre burned down during a particularly rumbustious Guy Fawkes celebration in 1823.

As well as being a saviour of mazes, Gibson was also the founder of the delightful Bridge End Garden, in which, around 1840, his son Francis did his father proud by building a fine yew-hedge maze.

Hedge mazes

Hedge mazes had been all the rage during the Renaissance, when they were a symbol of wealth. Particularly popular in France and Italy, puzzle mazes were purely for fun – as well as a place for secret liaisons away from prying eyes. King Henry VIII had one at Nonsuch Palace in Surrey, while the reigns of Queen Elizabeth I and James I saw mazes popping up everywhere, featuring practical jokes such as dead ends and surprise water jets.

Where space was at a premium the maze craze was reflected in Tudor knot gardens. Puzzle mazes fell out of fashion in the 18th century, dug up to create the sleek lines in the landscape made fashionable by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown, but by the 19th century the tide was turning again.

Saffron Walden’s hedge maze in Essex, constructed in the Italian Renaissance style, was originally dotted with ornaments intended to fool the visitor into wandering the wrong way. By the mid-20th century, the garden had become an overgrown wilderness – until the next maze revival in 1984, when an archaeological investigation unearthed the original paths. The maze was replanted and opened by Francis Gibson’s great-great grandson, Anthony Fry.

World’s oldest maze

The maze at Hampton Court Palace. Credit: Historic Royal Palaces

Britain’s most iconic hedge maze, at Hampton Court, is also the world’s oldest, dating back to around 1690. Its longevity is perhaps thanks to the fact that during Capability Brown’s long tenure at the palace, he was ordered, in no uncertain terms, to leave the maze alone.

Commissioned by William of Orange, the maze was planted as part of a formal garden known as ‘The Wilderness’ – not an uncultivated area as the name suggests, but a place to wander. Its unusual trapezoidal shape covers a third of an acre and feels bigger inside than it looks from outside. Sadly, a sister maze, made from espaliered trees, has since disappeared.

Practical jokes, coiled snakes and a royal creation

The maze at Glendurgan Garden, Cornwall. Credit: National Trust Images/John Millar

Another of Britain’s historic mazes is to be found at Hever Castle in Kent, formerly the home of Anne Boleyn, and in Edwardian times the seat of William Waldorf Astor. The splendid yew maze in the castle grounds, planted in 1905, has hedges more than eight feet high and it supposedly marks the spot where Henry VIII courted his second wife. Hever’s modern water maze, with its surprise jets that soak visitors, revives another maze tradition: the practical joke.

The classic maze follows a grid layout, but some use curved pathways to confuse visitors. The maze at Glendurgan Garden in Cornwall, planted in 1833, is shaped like a coiled snake nestled into the valley. Unusually, the hedges are cherry laurel, with palm trees at the corners providing an exotic touch.

The maze at Longleat comprises almost two miles of pathways. Credit: Jason Hawkes

The giant maze at Longleat in Wiltshire is also curvy rather than linear, with twisting paths designed to disorientate. What it lacks in history – it was planted in 1975 – it certainly makes up for in scale, with 16,000 yews and almost two miles of pathways.

Today, our fascination in mazes shows no sign of waning, and they are a regular weapon in the garden designer’s armoury, cropping up in private gardens and public spaces alike.

One of Britain’s newest was the brainchild of His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales, who, inspired by childhood memories of the maze at Sandringham, commissioned a hedge maze at Dumfries House in Ayrshire in 2016. It seems there’s no escaping the enduring appeal of a classic maze, even for a prince.

Book ahead

Saffron Walden

You can stroll between the town’s three mazes, from the turf maze on the common to the Italian Renaissance-style hedge maze in Bridge End Garden, via the modern tiled example in the Jubilee Garden. Open year-round.

Hampton Court Palace

This world-famous maze has entertained visitors for centuries. Can you beat the average time it takes to reach the centre: 20 minutes? Open year-round.

Hever Castle

The castle boasts two mazes set in beautiful gardens. The historic yew maze has a quarter of a mile of pathways, while the water maze is a series of concentric stepping-stone circles set over water, with false steps that shoot jets of water; bring a towel. Main maze open year-round; water maze end of March to October.

Glendurgan Garden

Set in a peaceful valley in Cornwall, this subtropical garden’s maze is built on a slope, allowing you to either tackle the maze yourself or sit opposite and watch others puzzle their way through. Open Tuesday to Sunday mid-February to October.

Longleat

It takes visitors anything up to 90 minutes to make their way to the centre of this complex maze. An observation tower at the heart of the maze marks the finish. Open year-round.

The post Get lost in Britain’s best mazes at stately homes appeared first on Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture.

Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture https://www.britain-magazine.com/attractions-2/get-lost-in-britains-best-mazes-at-stately-homes/

source https://coragemonik.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/get-lost-in-britains-best-mazes-at-stately-homes/

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