The Art of the Storyteller video series

We are soon to be returning with our popular Art of the Storyteller video series. For the time being, we are sharing our most popular episode to whet your appetite;

Art of the Storyteller – Episode 6 


Love. Passion. Excitement. Drama. Engagement.

These are things which can turn your writing from a collection of words into a Story! Make it something you loved writing and are proud of to something which people will love reading and want more of. Of course we are writing for ourselves and writing a style we love but we do want it to sell right? We want to see our vision on the Silver Screen or the TV at least. We don’t write it to leave in a drawer somewhere to desintegrate do we?

No, Alan we do not, we would love ot achieve success with it and have lots of people read and love it like we do! You have many ways to create these but here are a couple;

Fight or pursuit scenes. How can you use style, skill and language to create tension, draw them in and make them want to know how your scene ends. How can you create that ‘edge of the seat’ feeling?

Tension Building Scenes; when the reader has a good idea what is going to happen but you ‘lead them down the garden path’ in a way where they are no longer sure or don’t know HOW it is going to happen.

Death Scenes; If you have not built up a character as interesting and complete, will they care if that character dies? Can you build your scene so that, at least, a tear is shed and a heart flutters? Can you, through your passion and love cause them to feel it?

Conflict Scenes; When two or more protagonists hold vastly or only slight variations of viewpoint and that difference is either a point of conflict or pivotal part of story. Here, dialogue will likely be your friend, internal dialogue also, perhaps.

This is the hardest part that, I believe, no-one can teach because you have to feel it, you have to present it and give them a reason to engage, to emote and to be pulled into the narrative. Today I will be doing things a little differently than I have, with a reading from a key scene in my ultra-secret collaborative project.

A scene entitled “The Fall of Atlantis.” This is an example of a tension and a sort of death scene. It involves sympathy, perhaps, for someone who should really deserve none. It involves a twist of perception and an idea turned on it’s head. The idea of a sympathetic villain and why he chose to act as he did; how he got so angry and twisted up and who he had around as his only allies left to influence him. He’s effectivelty the First Villain too… How can you do this in your writing? More news and reveals on this exciting project to come but look into the style and my perhaps slightly rusty delivery and acting skills. (Alan’s acting skills could perhaps use some work but he’s trying! He has no plans to become an actual actor so don’t worry..he shall not inflict singing on you next so relax) coming soon.

Get ready for some huge changes to the website and also to existing books with the dawn of this new year. I have some very exciting and unexpected big changes coming.   The text I was reading can be found HERE
for those of your who would like to follow along. I made a couple of corrects and changes as I went along; hence my occasional long pauses.

This is a DRAFT not a final one either so there are errors in it. That’s why my project remains TOP SECRET because I am far from having it in presentable form. This is a hint and only here for illustrative purposes. No critique of spelling or word choices please (or observations of me diverging from the text, it is MY text so I can!) as this is a firmly WIP. Enjoy anyway if you like. The essence is true and measurable emotion and we will talk about that in the attached video. How can your words make others feel and how can you make your story huge. By appealing to people’s feelings. The Chronicles of Enoch : Darkness Within is coming soon.

Please be sure to subscribe to our channel for future episodes.

#Holiday #PassionForTheArt #AlanJFisher #Language #Create #Creative #thoughts #ArtoftheStoryteller #Storytelling #WritingTips #Writers #WritingMentor #creativewriting #Dramatic #Conflict #TheRaven #Passion

Reconstruction of A Shattered History

“History shattered. It was the only thing that could give. Very strange event. There were cracks left all over the place. The… oh, I can’t remember the words… the fastenings that tell bits of the past which bits of the present they belong to, they were flapping all over the place. Some got lost for ever…”

Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time.

This was, perhaps, the area of research which simultaneously offered the greatest challenges and most intriguing opportunities.

The deeper we dug, the further back we looked, the more we realised that a lot of what is considered “established historical fact” is so much guesswork, gossip, and what we might call ‘fake news’ in this age.

We all know the saying that “history is written by the victors” and we know this is true. The apocalypse of the Mayans, the holocaust of the Native Americans, the genocide of Columbus; history tried to hide those stories from us but failed in the end. Sooner or later, it seems, the Truth will turn up, mopping its brow and muttering something about the traffic.

Eventually.

A Hole on History

There is a great deal of History we know nothing about, that we make educated guesses, make educated stab in the dark (first establishing with what to attempt said stabbing and the correct intensity of darkness to attempt to at least wound), hold fingers of investigation to the wind, and so forth.

Up until quite recently, your average person want to school and was taught what we could call the consensus version which, obviously, they accepted without question. Then most people get on with their adult lives after school and leave history well alone. Those who maintain an interest or take history as a profession tend to not attract too wide an audience.

Those ‘In the business’ know which way the trench is dug (or better said, the budget granted) so keep their mouths shut about ‘the secret’, wouldn’t you?

The simple fact is that a lot of the historical record was commited to perishable materials because that’s all they had available at the time. Of the vast cache of documents recovered from Qumran in 1947, it is said that at least one third were used as fuel before someone told the shepherd those foreigners paid a fortune for that stuff.

So much could have been lost that way, or been sequestered away in private collections, locked away in the fabled Vatican Archives or similar hidden vault of Forbidden Knowledge.

We know that many Mayan books and scrolls were burned as “heresy”, Aztec monuments defaced. Early Islamic expansion contributed to the destruction of ‘haram’ or unholy items such as stuff the priests didn’t like or that disagrees with what kept them in nice clothes and palaces.

The library of Constantinople contained a lot of what was saved or recovered from the fire that destroyed the Library of Alexandria centuries before. In 1204 AD., the Library was burned to the ground by crusaders and, we hear, nothing survived.

How much history was lost due to ignorance, war, ideology, brazen stupidity and, perhaps, a bit of intent?

Stitching it Up

The possible irony of that heading is indeed intentional, thank you for noticing…

When it comes to studying the history I needed to in order to properly research both The Chronicles of Enoch and Hegemony, a lot of information was missing. The main source of material, The Bible (various versions), translations of the Torah and midrash, the Qur’an and other works, ancient codices, the Book of Enoch itself, and numerous works of ‘uncertain canonicity’ (apophryca etc).

I noticed a lot of missing information, contradictions, plot holes, and explanations lacking.

Now, I know Sir Terry’s works are as fictional as ours are (we think) but we wonder sometimes…we’ve often heard of something called ‘parallel creativity’; inspiration coming from…ah…somewhere else and fiction accidentally reporting reality. Sir Terry mentioned something called ‘unwritten books’ and has a magical library containing books that haven’t yet been written, implying that information can, perhaps, persist and ‘leak’ as it were.

We wonder whether some of this information and history was intentionally repressed and hidden as The Chronicles of Enoch assert. Has history been filled with individuals or groups that do not want the truth reported; not just Lucifer (and through him, The Vatican and other Church organisations) but others too? In The Chronicles, we have the Unknown Men, the Illuminati, and others we’ll stay quiet about for now.

Hidden History?

Each one of these organisations has an agenda and aims as well as being very keen to hide their existence from the world at large. 

In The Chronicles, we have the example of The Hidden War of 79AD. The world’s greatest Heroes gathered in Meggido valley to face down a horde of monstrous Nephilim led by Lucifer and his Horsemen. Sable, Conan, and Gilgamesh led the charge and, though countless heroes of legend were killed in the battle, Lucifer’s forces were decisively broken; two Horsemen were defeated and the others fled.

The world, however, did not end and the forces of Heaven were conspicuously absent. Everyone, except for the dead, simply pretended that the battle never happened. Asmodeus erased even the vaguest of references regarding the battle from history. They existed, of course, there had been mortals present in the fifty-thousand strong Army of Heroes, there were witnesses, there were armaments and weapons as well as bodies left behind. A great many of those bodies did not look even close to human; there were giants, orcs and goblins, beast-men, and dragons among them and their bones decorated the Meggido valley.

The scale of the operation he mounted in the 1960’s, the disinformation, the sequestration of both information and remains, the neutralisation of those that couldn’t be ‘financially convinced’, and the practical rewriting of some history books is almost impossible to imagine but he did it.

Fragmented accounts remain in folklore, mythical accounts of Heroes, strange legends, they are even encoded in the “Approved Modern Version” of the Book of Revelation. It is odd to think that the great Battle of Armageddon there mentioned refers to an actual historical event rather than a future one or (as many today claim) a more allegorical struggle.

The account in Revelation is said to have been Asmodeus’ greatest gamble and success simultaneously.

Conclusion

History is written by the victor and the most powerful; money and threats have made inconvenient pieces of the historic record disappear almost as well as accidental occuraces such as fire and misapplied zealotry can.

We know there are parts missing, we see repetions, fixes, and inventions applied over some of the holes and rarely do people question them. One has to be looking in order to spot the important ommissions and fabrications. One has to pay attention to the stories and folk tales for explanations at times, the evidence that should be there at others.

Sometimes the evidence or information is glaring in its absence.

We are not talking about those shows seen on a certain channel sharing a name with the field we keep mentioning. We are not talking conspiracy this time, we’re making logical and educated forays into what is so obviously there.

Or, of course, obviously not there but has left a hole like a missing jigsaw piece will…you can imply its shape in its absence.

Maybe not all of our fictional history is as fictional as we think it is…

The Forgotten War

The year 79AD is fraught with mythological significance. There was the destruction of Pompeii, terrible Norse rumours of Ragnarok from the frozen North to stormy Lindisfarne. Several prophecies hinted at dark events on the way.


According to history, the worst thing that happened that day was that two Roman towns were buried in ash, killing hundreds in mere moments. Terrible as this event was, it was not the worst thing that happened that year, it is simply the worst thing that people remember…


Asmodeus did a very, very good job in erasing the most significant historical event since, well since anything, from anything but Viking and Celtic legend, which nobody believes anyway.
On August 25th (modern calendar) AD 79, the world ended but it also did not. It was a very close thing.


This battle, called variously ‘Lucifer’s Folly’, ‘The Harvest of Heroes’, or ‘The Neverwar’ , depending on who you listen to, two vast armies faced one another in the shadows of the Megiddo valley in Isreal/Palestine. In the foremost ranks of one army stood the greatest heroes you have every heard of; Nephilim every one.

Opposing them, the seemingly unending ‘armies of Hell’; imagine orcs, kobolds, trolls, giants, ever type of monster you could imagine and some you wish you hadn’t…


“He was most amazed by the fact that it was a lot quieter than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t really know what he’d been expecting but not this. He heard the gentle ruffle of banners being pulled at by the wind, the jingle of harness as the soldiers around him moved from foot to foot or stretched to keep muscles from cramping on them.


Otherwise, silence, pretty much, which only made the waiting worse.
Across the other end of the valley, they were gathered. It looked like a huge wall of shadow from here, so large was the mass of enemies. Some early calculations based on what their local scouts told them, said that they were outnumbered somewhere between 450-1 and ‘it doesn’t really make much of a difference we’re all going to die anyway’.


Of course, thought Fionn, as he tightened then loosened the grip on his spear, they had almost every hero that had ever lived on their side so those were pretty good odds to some of them…but only if you actually believed the stories…


He smiled as he rotated his shoulders and looked around at the men and women beside him.


There was a knot of big Norsemen over there, all axes and hammers with their winged helmets and shiny armour. Big fella with the hammer had sparks jumping all over the place which was something Fionn considered unwise in the presence of so much nervous metal. They were clearly bonnie fighters though, he’d heard that the big one with hair and beard of the purest white had cut his way out of the dragon that’d tried to eat him. He caught Fionn’s eyes and cocked an snow-white eyebrown in greeting before turning his head back to the bigger fellow with the fancy hammer and sparks.


Fionn’s group of hairy, tattooed warriors stood in a loose knot of aggression, clustered around the Big Man himself, him as had brought them here from the Eagle Isles far away in the Mist.


The Wolf was big. He held a claymore casually over one shoulder, its metal full of strange blue reflections which danced along an edge that was, from certain angles, not entirely there. A large bearded axe, heavy with runes and knotwork designs, was being used to draw patterns in the dead desert dust.


Not a good place for fighting, Fionn spat in the dust and watched the moisture vanish almost right away. Already enough death here but he could feel the thirst for even more blood rising from the barren rocks like smoke.


The Wolf looked down at Fionn, or at least his heavily carved silver wolf mask did. Fionn never had figured out how Cú saw through those blue jewels his war mask had for eyes but on those rare occasions the Big Man felt inclined to speak, he’d said “clearer than you can imagine. Like eagles on the wing and wolves beneath a full moon see, I’d wager”.


The azure gaze lingered on Fionn long enough to cause the wiry hunter to finger his fine beech bow with a barely repressed shudder.


“Big Man likes you, so he does” Bran had said through bright red moustache. “The wee giant is his best mate, sure he is.”


At 5’10”, Fionn was small for a giant, slight of build and sparse of beard. His Da had been the giant that’d built the Causeway to get across to where his mother – daughter of some distant cousin of Bran Boru, a nasty lesser Lord of Ulaid- was being held prisoner as was the fashion of the time and Fionn the half-giant was the result.


The Big Man was near a foot taller than him and a great deal older, folk said. He came from the drowned lands under the Morimaru off the coast of Albion. They said he’d fought these fellas, the Fír Bolg and Bálor’s kin before. They said him and that blue-eyed devil with the two most beautiful swords Fionn had ever seen beside him went way back. Back even before the ice left and the sea came in.


“About bloody time,” the Big Man said to no-one in particular. He gestured towards the storm gathering over the Fír Bolg with his impossible sword held loosely in one hand. He bumped the blue-eyed devil, who appeared to be asleep standing up, on the leg with the flat of his axe. “That uncle of yours has decided to show up.”


The odd significance of those words made the hairs of Fionn’s heavily tattooed arms stand up and he gripped his bow even tighter.


“I know you’re in charge here, Sable,” Big Man continued all nonchalant as one of those priests getting off a boat in his dress to chase of the snakes Eíreann never had anyway. “But I’d suggest it’s time for that signal.


The one called Sable appeared to awake and look towards his friend. Fionn felt his gut tighten as those devil-blue eyes brushed his and fought the sudden wave of terror down with great effort. Sable nodded and waved one of his beautiful silver swords up in the air.


Far off, the deep growling scream of a war horn sounded, setting Fionn’s teeth on edge and his heart pumping harder. Another answered it, this one bright and singing like the way Fionn imagined a swan’s one and only song would sound. Across the valley, answering horns and trumpets winded, their discordant cacophony bouncing off the valley walls.


Big Man nodded and indicated the horizon with his sapphire wolf’s eyes.

“Here they come,” his normally booming voice barely above a whisper. “If you’ve any ginger on you, Atlantan, I think the men’ll be needing it soon.”


Sable nodded and rolled his neck, producing some fine crackles of bone Fionn most approved of. He said nothing and kept those eyes fixed on the black storm-front, crackling with lightning that could not be natural.
It took a moment for Fionn to see how right that assessment was…


The storm was no storm, it was…
In the boiling inkiness of the tortured air he saw them, colossal figures that were nearly not there. They looked like pictures of light projected into the storm…like…like…like ideas trying to take a shape.


They were like the star-creatures dropping from above, trying to become what men said they should be but struggling. He thought he could see four creatures slowly striding through the lightning but they kept blurring and changing like pigment in water, swirling and coming apart before reforming again.
Then, his temples pounding and his eyes threatening to turn themselves inside out, his mind let him see them. His béan sidhe heritage let things hidden from mere men reveal themselves to him.


There were four figures but, seeing them clearly now was not the blessing he’d thought it would be and he prayed for ignorance now.
As big as the sky and each filled with lightning, they strode over the innumerable Fír Bolg.


In robes the colour of the grave drifted the first, his raised hood empty and arm of bones holding a massive scythe whose blade was larger than the sky itself, it seemed. A smoke swirled around it and, as he felt horror knew at his gut, Fionn swore he saw faces in that smoke or, better said, the smoke was faces, millions of them. The scent of long abandoned tomb mounds drifted towards them.


As the second figure moved, the scent became stronger, richer and riper. This figure also bore a scythe in one emaciated hand but it looked normal compared to that which the first carried. The rest of the figure did not look normal. Every inch of its bare flesh not covered by crumbling rags was the deep black-brown of the long and dried up dead yet somehow it retained an unholy gloss to it . Atop stooped and bowed shoulders was the skull of a great ox or steer in place of a head, baleful and sickly fire burning from the eye sockets.


Compared to the bandy, famine-wracked frame of his neighbour, the next creature was a giant. Corroded heavy iron armour covered all but one corpse’s hand and splayed lizard-like feet. In one iron-clad hand, it gripped a vast bow of shining metal and in the pallid, diseased bare one it held an arrow from which unhealthy light did not shine so much as ooze, like pus from a wound. Its face was an outlandish mask of dull material covered in tubes and pipes with an opaque glass plate over its eyes and two great drums either side of where a mouth should be. From these drums a fog of a colour one could only describe as unhealthy huffed in and out periodically as if the creature were breathing it.


But Fionn had eyes only for the fourth figure for it was glorious. Behind it’s heavily armoured body spread vast wings of living flame. Where the other figures appeared to now be waiting and quiescent, this one was in constant motion. In one hand it held a whip which appeared made of broken blades hammered together and ending in a glowing skull of white-hot brass; it coiled and snapped with the sound of a heavy infantry charge with only the slightest movement of the creative’s right shoulder. In its left hand, it held a double-headed axe of molten iron easily as long as Fionn’s father had been tall. Upon its jagged armoured shoulders, brutal fire the colour of burning blood blazed from the dry sockets of the skull of a great ram. The eye wateringly bright fire that filled sockets and skull grew brighter and softer, brighter and softer…as if it were the breath of the creature. As it ‘breathed’, the stench of shit, and blood, hot iron, and fear sweat washed over Fionn and he was certain that the blaze of its gaze fixed upon him and only him within the multitude; weighing him up.


Fionn tore his gaze away, counted, and thought on his impressions of them; they scrabbled at and dug up something deeply primal within him and, when realisation finally broke the surface of his thoughts, the words fell from his quivering lips before he was even aware of the thought that heralded them.


“Oh shit, are those what I think they are?” he wavered. “Now we really are f-“


Sable, who it was now clear had been watching Fionn the whole time, cut in adroitly, his voice level and deep, filled with a confidence Fionn knew his lacked. “That’s them, half-giant,” his voice had a laugh to it for reasons Fionn could not fathom. “This is, indeed, IT”

Fionn said nothing but this time, when he met those blue eyes, it was not fear that he felt, it was hope. He licked dry lips and nodded.

“That one,” Sable indicated the burning whip cracker with one silver sword. “That one is mine, Conan.”


Such was Sable’s quiet assurance that Fionn felt certain that a million Fír Bolg would barely slow a man like that down.


“Everyone’s got to die sometime!” Big Man roared in reply, butting Sable with one shoulder, over the nervous clatter of a thousand suits of armour. “I want to see what colour that big sheepie bastard bleeds for myself!”


It was not even that funny, Fionn reflected as his voice joined the rising roar from the rest of the army, but he laughed along with the rest of them.


“This blue-eyed bugger has killed giants for fun so I’m for getting to that shiny bastard while there’s still big fekkers left to fight!” He roared even louder and stabbed claymore at sky. “Who is with me?”


In a wall of noise; terror transformed into desperate bravado, screams of rage, swords beating shields, and the sounding of horns from a hundred nations which filled the plains of Meggido from end to end, fifty thousand men and women told him that they were.


As they charged forward into certain ruin, the battle at the end of the world began…

The Devil Made Me Do It

Oh dear, how often do we hear that phrase spoken?

Mass murderers or those who carry out shocking crimes say it. Idiots that do idiot things use it. It is seen as the one phrase which will either assuage them of all guilt or convince those who’d listen to such tosh believe them to be insane and, therefore, not responsible for their actions, get a reduced sentence or something of that nature. We all know how it is.

It’s almost become a cliché…

They ignore one basic fact however, we all do; Free Will. According to everything ever written about the devil prior to 1998, free will is a large part of the Arrangement. He cannot subvert it, apparently. He can suggest, he can manipulate, he can cajole and torment…he can try to break someone’s will down as he is said to have done with Job, but he cannot actually ‘make’ anyone do anything.

That, my friend, is ultimately your choice.

Free Will is Inviolate

You see, that is what the argument between Lucifer and his Father was all about apparently. Lucifer was of the opinion that the human race did not deserve it, that they would use it and abuse it. He felt, perhaps rightly, that because the Creator had made us from animal stock that we would behave like the animals we came from.

“A dog will love it’s master with while there is plenty of food and comfort but, should the master die and food be scare, it will have no compunction about taking advantage of convenient and abundant food source…”

He likes to say things like that, he can be quite smug about it. He will tell you he’s clever, he subtle, and he’s good at what he does but he never holds a gun to their heads. What a silly idea, he has People to do that for him!

They usually only tend to do that when money or loyalty are involved however.

For someone that is not really known for his own loyalty, that might be considered somewhat ironic but there it is.

Lucifer is convinced that humans, as organic creatures, are unreliable and impure, nothing compared to spiritual beings such as him. As far as Lucifer is concerned, though, everyone is inferior to him, including his own brothers. Especially Asmodeus, apparently.

As such, Lucifer is certain that mankind, with very little help from his Fallen angels and nephilim, will disappoint The Creator and break each and every one of His Laws.

That Lucifer did the same things is not a topic one wants to broach in his presence.

Given enough free will and encouragement, he is certain that humans will simply think of their own desires, needs, and wants. He is certain that it is a fear of the consequences only that prevents them in doing exactly as they please and no more. Remove the consequences, he says, and you will have beautiful chaos as all the fancy notions of a minority of humans implode under the weight of the selfish indulgances of the rest. He says it will be like a symphony.

Lucifer’s Plan

In order to give humans every opportunity to express their unfettered free will, Lucifer has not been idle these past millennia. In fact, he has been busier these last two centuries than ever before, it is claimed. This is due, in no small part, to his promotion of Asmodeus to his inner circle.

The Fallen are, as immortal and eternal beings, slow and resistent to change. They will follow the well-worn path of slow and gradual success because it works rather than try something new that might fail for the most part so the innovative Asmodeus had his work cut out in convincing the Horsemen from the very beginning. In all honesty, he has not completely succeeded yet.

Lucifer appears to have a careful eye on him and, if such rare coin is available among the Fallen, appears to trust him to some degree, something which is irritating enough to his ‘brothers’ to allow Asmodeus to enjoy it all the more. Of course with great power comes great danger but he’s prepared to take the risks when they are are so potentially profitable. Add to that the fact that the low opinion his fellow Fallen have of him is exactly what he wants them to think, you start to wonder what is really going on.

As Lucifer’s plan was always to subvert those things humans drew moral strength from and pushing out more and more of that which weakens and divides them, he cannot deny how effective Asmodeus’ methods are in furthering those goals. What might have once taken years of heavy, hard, and patient work can now be achieved in mere minutes. The infrastructure is there, one simply has to tweak the message to suit the need.

The Over-Used Excuse

“The devil provided you with the necessary tools to carry out your own desires” is a term Lucifer likes to employ when feeling of good humour. Let him explain;

“Just as you can lead the goats to water but cannot make them drink, nor can you do so with sheep, such as those who occupy this world’s largest cities in such profusion. I could hand a moral man a gun and he would either return it to me politely or put it away somewhere and forget about it. Now, if someone decides to keep that gun and later murders a number of people with it, claiming I made him do it? Am I really to blame? Yes, i provided the means but I did not provide the will and the desire; those were always there and would have found a way without me…”
Simply put, Job did not break and Lucifer did far worse things to him than most other people have suffered; I don’t think I’d have lasted close to half as long as he did to be honest, I think few could.
“Remember that forest, in the movie with those small people with hairy feet? it had elves, dwarves, and all those people in it? I remember how well they described it. ‘There is no evil here except what you bring with you’, one of them was told. That is how it works. I pull levers, I push buttons, I whisper, and I weedle but I did not place that which reacts to it where it is. I can push, I can weaken, and i can break. I can visit upon their mind nightmares such as they cannot imagine, I can kindle fear in their hearts but I cannot make them decide. I can influence only but if they decide to commit the sin, that is – excuse the pun – their affair.”

Now, there are few people on the world that possess the native strength to resist what Lucifer is capable of sending their way. He has refined and improved his techniques over a very long time but he is no longer an angel on the Earth, he cannot really give his ‘personal attention’ to that many people at a time.

To be honest, if you are receiving special attention from Lucifer and his cohorts, particular and focussed attention, then you are a very special person indeed, in his eyes. Either that or he or one of his Fallen are in need of a new body.

Now, like vampires, a Fallen does not come uninvited, there is a form of verbal contract required. Lucifer will tell you that he can invade a body against the will of its host but to do so is exhausting because a soul fighting for its very future is very strong and, afterall, it is on its home turf and he is not. A soul that is prepared to sit back passively is much preferred because, in 7 out of ten cases, the native soul will expell the invader sooner or later. So if you are hearing voices or seeing such things, it is likely a regular disembodied soul or run-of-the-mill standard mental illeness that is to blame.

It is clear that a great many more claim having experienced such a level of intimacy than Lucifer has, in fact, involved himself directly in. Even his nephilim are, compared to 6 billion humans, few in number and not an effective force in the war Lucifer is waging. The internet made it much easier and made certain formally taboo material much more readily available but nobody is forced to view, access, or read it. It is often said that exposure to certain material corrupts people but that is not true, the desire must exist in order for that to happen.

Perhaps it is easier to blame an unseen devil than accept that we have always had and always will have our own monsters.

Believing that the devil made them do it is, perhaps, a much easier pill to swallow than considering the fact that we all have, within us, the potential to do exactly the same thing if we’re pushed just the right way

That kind of thinking is exactly what Lucifer wants us to be having, of course; we told you he was clever.

Lilith – The Birth of the Goddess

In the beginning there was The Creator and the Creator was the Word and the Word was….what?
 
Later on, man and woman were made…then something went from, they scrubbed that line out and started again, this time making woman out of a piece of man for reasons known only to them but we can guess, we think…
 
Into the pristine Garden, LIlith stepped, her feet wanting to dance from the sheer joy of it even then, she felt the power of Life filling her and was sure nothing could steal this happiness from her.
 
As is so often the case, Lilith was wrong.
 
Adam seemed like a nice enough lad, incredibly attractive, even compared to the angels who were beautiful beyond words, but there was something a little…off…that she couldn’t put her finger on.
 
Nobody needed to explain the whole procreation thing when night fell, that is what he and she were for after all, to fill this garden with more of their kind and give The Creator joy at the same time. He had given her a part of His ability to Create and she both treasured and was terrified by the gravity of such a gift.
 
So, as the moment came and Lilith surrendered to her natural passions, he stopped her, at completely the wrong moment too.
“I have been speaking to Gabriel,” he said, apropos of nothing. “Who told me of The Creator’s thoughts on our relationship.”
 
Lilith was puzzled. The Creator would greet them daily, share a few words with them here and there, remind them not to eat the peaches from that big tree over there, and so forth. Some of the angels liked to chat but they were very busy with the the rest of Creation these days. Why would The Creator show an interest now?
“What did he say?” she managed, burying her frustration with an effort.
“Well – ” Adam began, quite nervous and with the words that followed came an event which, according to many, changed the flow of human history.
 
Later, as she sat in her new cave, watching the dance of shadows on the rough walls from the fire she’d eventually figured out to make. She was dirty, she was tired, she was hungry, and she was….she was…she did not know what she was….
 
Angry? Well yes, obviously…the sheer cheek of those people!
Upset? Who wouldn’t be? Was it that little snake between his legs that made him think he was better?
Betrayed? Well obviously also, The Creator had given a long speech about her ability to create new Life as He can and how proud He was to gift this unto her. It had included a lot of thees, thous, heretofores, and the sort of Language he used when he was happy.
 
This feeling though…it was all of those and thing yet it was….something more and, somehow….something less. She felt both empty and full at the same time as if there were a summer storm raging within her. She did not like it, she decided, and it was their fault.
 
What was this thing which stirred and disturbed Lilith so? It was simple actually and, it would appear, also complicated. it would be many years before Lilith herself understood it completely.
 
Adam had demanded – demanded, look you! – that she, Lilith, be submissive to his will in their lovemaking, that she lie beneath him and be receptive only to his wishes. It did not stop there, though. It would apear that this new attitude she was expected to adopt was to be a more permanent thing. The Creator had spoken, as it were.
 
It would appear that Adam was not only somewhat insecure, he was also a sneaky little rat (he’d seemed to like those scurttling little creatures when he was naming them last week)! He had, she was certain, gone whining to either The Creator directly, to His stooge Gabriel, or both.
 
Probably didn’t like the whole “…thus doest thou create Life as so do I making thou equal almost to your Creator…” speech.
 
The Creator hadn’t told him anything like that, she mused, checking the rat roasting on a skewer in the fire with an impish grin. Somehow she felt better though, once again, all these feelings were new to her. She would learn though and then, when she had learned, they would all learn too.
 
The Realm of Lilith
 
After Lilith’s rather dramatic exit from the Garden, various attempts were made to negociate a peace. It took a while for the angels to find her to begin with because she had sought refuge in what can only be called one of the ‘left over bits’ from Creation itself.
 
You see, as Lilith was fast learning, the Void that was mentioned in any good account of The Creation was not simply an empty nothingness; it was an empty – ah – everythingness…it had the potential to be anything at all while, at the same time, being absolutely nothing. It was unadulterated potential.
 
It was also alive.
 
Or, at least, it appeared to be, for Lilith had followed a shadowy figure to this place. It was gone now and she had seen no sign of it since but something told her that it wasn’t too far away. That was curious, she thought, learning that she was capable of all kinds of things no-one had thought to tell her about.
 
She had already began to shape this place to her desires. Where there was once empty greyness, there was now a a waterfall feeding an azure pool surrounded by rocks and flowers where she liked to bathe. She also enjoyed watching the bees and humming birds feed from those flowers. All those things now existed her because she had asked them to but they continued to exist with no further action from her required. The first time she’d fallen asleep in her new bed, she’d been worried that everything would have gone the moment she entered the darkness of sleep.
 
But, as she anxiously edged her way out of the cave that morning, the bees and birds continued their raucous dance, the flowers bloomed as if trying to impress her, and the water plished prettily on the slick rocks.
 
Also there was an angel there, sat playing with the butterflies and hummingbirds. He seemed very much absorbed in the activity and to also be enjoying it.
 
“So delicate yet so vital,” he said as if continuing a conversation that had began without her. “and so beautiful also though they ap[pear completely unaware of it themselves.”
 
Raphael’s voice was like one lost in a dream but he always sounded like that. His eyes always had that faraway look to them, his lips always curled in a smile. He was, it appeared, eternally content. “Hello Lilith,” he said, as if noticing her for the first time. “Such a lovely place you have made. Devilishly difficult to find though.”
“Hello Raph,” Lilith approached him warily, though it was so very hard to be in any way anxious around the archangel. “That was pretty much the point, you probably realise.”
“Oh, yes I do, I do,” he smiled and drew his hand through the water. “But I was sent. They thought that I’d be the best one to speak to you. Gabriel irritates you, Michael angers you and my brother Raguel is as inflexible as…well…” He trailed off and dabbled his hands in the water. Raphael was impossibly honest too.
Lilith could not help but smile as she tired to unravel his thought processes. “Not that I mind seeing you, Raph, you always know how to bring joy to a place,” She began. “But I am not going to go back to the Garden. Not unless they have changed their minds…”
“Oh, Lilith…” there was something in his tone that made her heart jump in a way she had never felt happen before. “You don’t know? I had thought you’d be pleased…”
“Know what?” she said simply, feeling the dread building up behind her eyes and her heart making a concerted effort to go swimming in the pool by itself. No, no…surely not that…
 
Raphael was talking but she barely heard the words….The Creator made another…the thundering of her heart sounded like the ocean during a hurricane in her ears, he vision greying as cold sweat speckled her hands, her feet her throat…Adam called her Eve…her stomach went into freefall, a weight, vast and yet insubstancial filled her head and then careened downward taking her stomach with it…The Creator took one of Adam’s ribs in the night and shaped her from it….heart beating so fast she was sure it would explode out of her chest and ruin the angel’s pure white robe, the tips of her fingers tingled, her toes too, as all other senstation faded and…
 
“Oh good, good…” Raphael’s voice seemed to come from far away, over the swooshing of Lilith’s heart and pounding of her head. “I have never seen you do that before. I had thought you’d died or something terrible.” He sounded both concerned and fascinated.
 
Raphael was knelt beside her, propping up her head as he gave her cool water to drink. Lilith gratefully took long and energising swallows but either did not or could not open her eyes. She felt something new building, something that made the weakness that had caused her to fall earlier fade away. It was red, it was vital, it filled her veins fire and took away that cold and empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that caused her to donate her lunch of rat to the fishes in the pool.
 
It felt…well, it felt good, it felt strong…it felt like hers…
 
Lilith opened her eyes and met the violet orbs of the angel cooly.
“Get out.”
 
She watched his face change. He went from concern, to mild panic, to incomprehension, and finally to acceptance. He went up several rungs in her estimate and he simply nodded and rose, leaving without a backward glance.
 
The Dark Creation
 
There is much rumour spoken about Lilith over the eons; a lot of of it wildly inaccurate, and most of it simple slander.
 
They said she, in her rage, grew lustful and lay with the Fallen to birth monsters with which she filled her realm. They are half right; the demons, Lilith’s children, are real. They are right that Asmodeus was a regular visitor to her realm that none could enter without her permission. They are terribly wrong about Asmodeus in so many ways because he made sure it was so. His lustful and dissolute nature, for one, is complete fiction. Asmodeus gains more pleasure from a well-made plan and complex scheme than he does from a woman. He deems himself above such pursuits and will defend Lilith’s ‘honour’ against anyone who makes such accusations.
 
“I never touched her and she never asked either.” he smiled as he said it. “Funny how they try and reduce her to a rutting animal, getting her revenge on her back isn’t it? Tells you a lot more about them than it does about her.”
 
The more observant among you would realise that, for Lilith to create her bathing pool with its waterfall, its rocks, fishes, flowers, and birds, she had simply to think of it and want it to exist. After Raphael left her realm and she closed the door to the curious, her thoughts and desires became darker in nature and so too did what they brought forth from the raw potential of the remnant Void.
 
After a few centuries it changed from nobody being able to enter her realm without to her permission to nobody wanting to even if they were invited. If torured rage, hatred, and a confused welter of emotions still alien to the bearer were to be given form, imagine what wonders they could create.
 
In Lilith’s realm, you don’t have to imagine, they will immediately see you and hunt you down. They won’t kill you when they catch you though, oh no, they wouldn’t want to spoil the fun but ending your suffering too quickly. They want to savour it, drink it, refine it into the purest of music.
 
That Lucifer sent those responsible for the Nazis so-called “Final Solution” there for their crimes should tell you all you need to know about the place. The worst nightmare of Hironymous Bosch is a day in the park compared to what waits where Lilith squats in judgement
 
The Impossible Choice
 
So, what was it that started it all, that caused Lilith’s rage and caused her refuse to return? Was it the submission that did it or was it that she was put in a position, forced to make a choice that was not a choice?
 
I want to ask you to consider this; It follows more or less what Raphael explained to Lilith one day; much later on. He was the only angel she really trusted, she even allowed babies wearing his symbol to be safe from her ‘children’ at night.
 
“Lilith.” Rafael had said, the permanent smile never far from his face. At least it was genuine in his case. “I know how you feel but it this really worth it? The bitterness and anger?”
“It’s mine.” She answered sharply. “He and all of you didn’t want me to have mine own but to be possessed and submissive. I don’t want to do that.”
Rafael’s face became serious for a moment and he visibly sighed. “You fail to see the complexity.”
She gifted him with one of her famous ‘looks’ which were said to make anything male feel about three years old. Rafael actually blushed and, though he was not obviously male, looked like a scolded child.
“I’m serious Lilith.”
“As am I. Nor am I stupid, Raph.” She favoured him with another look and then smiled reassuringly. “Explain it to me then.” She touched his arm gently.
“You have some idea of the power of woman I imagine.” He smiled.
“We can make life,” She said uncertainly. “Just like He does.”
“Exactly like He does but slower.” Rafael confirmed with a wry grin. “But that is not it. Not completely anyway.”
“I am confused.” She would rarely admit such weakness to anyone. This angel was a friend, if she could claim to have such a thing. She considered him such a good friend that she allowed any babe bearing his sigil to be safe from her children.
“You see what one of your looks does to Man do you not?” He gave her a frown in reply. 
 
She admitted that she did. She could calm the even a savage beast such as Abaddon with a smile or look. Only Lucifer seemed to be immune, and him of course but he was less obviously male than even the angels were.
 
“Woman has what Man most desires. Man is built to want that, to procreate and to dominate it is in his – what did Father call it? – DNA, the code which makes him, well, him. That role of the protector and aggressor against threat. Woman is to nurture, Man is to defend and attack if needed. Father saw this sharing of roles and natures to be wise make Man and Woman partners; He had a word or two with Adam.” He blushed again and appeared to looking for an exit. “Man does these things and thinks that he is in charge…listen I’m not supposed to be telling you this, you were supposed to work it out for yourself…”
“Tell me what?” She purred and Rafael blushed.
“That!” He gestured sharply toward her with a hand. “With your female ways and wiles you can make Man your absolute slave and he will love you for it! He will do anything for that which you have. That which he so deeply wants. All you have to do is let him think he is in charge.”
“But I am instead?” She put her chin in her hand and her eyes went distant.
“Exactly.” He blushed to his ears and looked at the ground. “I tried to tell you before but then they got kicked out of the Garden. Azraphael is guarding the gates with that big flaming sword of his now so they’re not getting back in; they wandered off East somewhere I think.” His voice trailed off and he looked her in the eyes.
“You’re stubborn, Lilith.” he muttered. “If you had only listened to me before…”
“I have to be! I…”
 
It hit her then, she had been a fool and allowed her pride to take over instead of using her great intelligence to work out what Rafael had just told her. How different could things have been had she realised this and used the knowledge as the angel had suggested? She wanted to cry suddenly but would do no such thing in front of something that at least looked like a man. As the pain gripped her chest and her heart skipped, the rage which had kept her going all these eons came to her rescue as it always did…
 
Now, that seems like a simple choice for her, doesn’t it? To Raphael’s mind it is, even for such an honest being as he, it has logical sense to it and, of course, it does. If one were to think about it like an angel, it makes perfect sense and to do otherwise would be foolish.
 
The angels who have never set foot on the Earth though, forget one important factor; however; how that feels.
 
You see, for angels, feelings and emotions are not the same as they are for humans. They are spiritual entities rather than biological ones and feelings come with the meat, as it were. A supposedly simply, yes/no decision to a cold and logical being like an angel is not so simple for us. Lilith pretending to be what she is not in order to have what she wants is against everything that makes Lilith, as it were, Lilith.
 
In order to give The Creator what He claimed to want and, ultimately, gain what she herself wants, Lilith would have to surrender everything that matter to her, her very self. She would be compromising daily and be given none in return. Adam would get what he wants and, probably, be incredibly smug about it, who knows what else he would ask The Creator for?
 
In many ways; this choice of Lilith’s is an allegory for abusive relationships everywhere…surrender your happiness and vitality for the other person and gain little to nothing in return except some vague satisfaction.
 
It’s no wonder she became a bitter and self-consumed creature of rage is it?
 
Conclusion
 
Lilith is an allegory for a great many things and possibly the most complex character in The Chronicles. Her influences and signs of her are everywhere, rumours and stories about her also.
 
The stories we read about her were intriguing but, as with the rest of them, missing some important elements we felt. Most curious of all we found that, in stories which clearly expressed something approaching admiration for what many may call feminist elements to her character, there were still elements of stereotypes; she was a witchy, bitter, twisted, and lustful creature that copulated with anyone she could find in order to have her revenge. We felt that this conforms too much to what we consider female stereotype.
 
She had to be more than a monsterous queen breeder in order to be the truly glorious character and person that she is; to be the goddess, the true Queen of Heaven.
 
She also represents the true choice of many women (and men); when they suffer many forms of abuse and use in life, are taken for granted and cheated upon, there is a choice, whether conscious or not; you become bitter and vengeful or you decide it is not and never was your fault and, instead to soar.
 
Lilith was never out for simple revenge. She was not the mere woman spurned and replaced looking to get back at the ‘other woman’ or Eve. She was not simply taking revenge on their descendants because she felt cheated of motherhood. No, she had genuine concerns.
 
You see, to her, Eve represented everything she feared that she would herself have become had she stayed; meek, submissive, constantly compromising and compromised, a slave. A mother for children, a preparer of food and cleaner of home. Not a person in herself, not an individual at all but a weak and emptied shell.
 
Lilith was certain that she could, over time at least (and she appeared to be immortal), make women as strong as she felt they should be; through travails that would make them or break them, she would forge the weakness inherited from their ‘rib-creature’ of a mother into something worthy of the name woman.
 
That is why her meeting Lorasta is so significant. Lorasta, the abused, badly used, the confused and lost woman who is conflicted in herself is exactly the student Lilith needs. Lorasta reminds Lilith so much of herself; she is angry, in conflict with herself and everyone around her, she retreated away from everyone and into herself yet she retains a strength that even Asmodeus has admired, a determination not to be just what she was born as but to forge her own future any way she can. Lilith admires and is overjoyed to see that because, to her, that is what woman should be.
 
We are seriously looking forward to where The Chronicles take Lilith and Lorasta and how people feel about these characters. We dearly hope that we have done her justice and, through her, those to whom this may matter most.
 
We hope that strong women can be as proud of her as she is of them.
 
Note: for those who have been asking; Lilith holds in her hands; a lamp shaped like the Moon, a golden knife, a blood chalice with an anhk as ornamentation,a golden apple marked ‘to the fairest’, and a dove. I could explain the symbolism to you but I think it would be more fun if you figured it out for yourself…

We Don’t Need Another Hero

(Or the Rise of the Anti-Hero)
We thank the incomparible Ms. Turner for the inspiration and the fact that your song is now stuck in my head.
The idea of the anti-hero is hardly a new one; literature is full of examples and several of these have served as inspiration, to some degree, in The Chronicles.
  • Conan the Barbabarian (or Conan the Cimmerian originally) was a thief, a killer, and a rogue who was more interested in his ongoing survival than helping people, that sort of came as a happy coincidence than his primary concern.
  • Elric of Melnibone, a necromancer and power-hungry beast who was looking for revenge rather and personal satisfaction predominantly but he ended up hailed as a somewhat hero all the same.
  • Lestat de Lioncourt, he is mostly interested in being a great vampire and surviving. He gladly uses people and even makes others vampires so that he isn’t lonely. He is mainly concerned with his pursuit of sensation and hedonism but has a loyalty towards his friends and will protect them. That does not mean that he’d risk his life for them, though. He is selfish and vain.
All of these characters and others are not, in themselves, heroic beings but they do heroic things and that is part of what makes them popular, we think. let us analyse it more closely.
The Hero of Olde
Imagine your typical hero, hero. They tend to be attractive to look at, they are muscular if male and lithe and slender if female, they are excellent in combat, and virtuous to a fault, usually ascribing to some antique Code which fell out of fashion among everyone else. They are a paragon.
  • Will always help the weak and defend them against evil
  • Will confront evil wherever they find it
  • Be at the front of any charge
  • They never lie or deceive people
  • Never do anything for personal gain; they will not cheat, steall, or murder
  • They will always go back for an injured colleague that falls behind
  • They would risk their life to save that of a person in danger
  • They will see everyone else as Good as they are
There is quite a depressing quote on heroes, I think you know it, though Asmodeus has paraphrased it a little;
“There are two types of people in this situation; dead heroes and live bastards. Remember that it was that live bastard that pulled your arse out of the fire while the dead hero is still down there…”
Heroes are well and good, they have their uses, but they do tend to become rather predictable after a while.
How the Hero Did Evolve
A long way back in time, when genres were much more tightly controlled, the hero would often be the one diguised as a member of the ‘lower classes’ and, despite his diguise being about as convincing as Superman’s, would remain anonymous until it was time to realise his destiny. Now, narrative causality would ensure that he learned to get in good shape, not catch any horrible or disfiguring diseases, and get the right amount to weapons training to be useful.
Through various adventures, which he would enjoy with a number of interesting sidekicks, who served to help him learn and essential skill, he arrives where the villian is waiting and kills him in a dramatic battle. Sometimes, for variety, his first attempt fails and he is imprisoned, only to escape and kill the villain in a more unexpected and less-evenly-matched final confrontation.
It worked for centuries, that good formula and, oddly enough, it came back with some subtle differences and remains quite popular in two or three different incarnations. Let’s summarise it and let you figure it out;
  • Unregarded and hidden away in less than idea surroundings.
  • Conditioned to believe they are unattractive and worthless.
  • Some form of abuse suffered, at least subtly but enough to make the reader uncomfortable.
  • Secret destiny revealed by mentor type character.
  • Become immediately attractive to pretty much everyone at that moment
  • Get a lot of cool friends, at least one of whom dies in heartwrenching fashion.
  • Are usually the scion (often unknown or illegitimately) of some powereful monarch or PowerFul Person and heir to an Amazing Thing.
  • Have martial or other gifts unlike “anyone we have ever seen”.
  • Have a fully-functional deflector against even the most dramatic forms of death until they arrive at their destiny, where it malfunctions but, it turns out, actually did work because they’re not really dead afterall.
See? It makes sense when you break it down properly.
Predictable. Lacking in nuance. Lacking in Depth.
Entertaining and enjoyable obviously if that’s what you are in the mood for, there is no doubt about that. It’s like a straight action movie, it’s fun to watch but you know they’re going to win in the end, you’re just enjoying the journey, the explosions, and the witty one-liners; usually from the morally-flexible ethnic sidekick.
The Anti-Hero
The anti-hero is, as one might expect, the hero that isn’t. They do, as we mentioned, do acts of heroic scale; they fight monsters, kill bad people, resist oppression, defeat the villain, etc. but they are, more of than not, motivated by their own needs and desires rather than those of others.
Take Deadpool; he’s out for revenge initially; then he moves onto being worthy of entering whichever heaven or afterlife his girlfriend is in. He does heroic things and defeats evil but he’s doing it for himself, ultimately. This does not make him any less likeable, though. His wisecracks and excellent repartee of course help with that but, and here’s the key, him not being perfect makes him more accessible.
Look at it this way; these paragons, you’re born as one of those. You’re born Chosen and with amazing talents, you can’t become that. The anti-hero, though, they’re just like us, warts and all. They tend not to be attractive or popular but, they tend to not really care about that.
Like all great comedians, they tend to use humour as a defense and to be liked or, at least, considered inoffensive or, in Deadpool’s case, obnoxious enough to be left alone.
Enter Asmodeus
He would certainly have a joke about that title, and no hesitation in telling it to you. Asmodeus enjoys making people squirm, he likes making them uncomfortable, and out of their depth.
It is commonly thought that he gains pleasure from people’s discomfort and, ultimately, pain and suffering because, to many, one thing leads to another. He does nothing about this talk though, of course, he is aware of it.
Instead he makes silly and dirty jokes, makes people uncomfortable in his presence, shares socially unacceptable observations (often of a sexual or anatomical nature), hides away in his little hidey-hole and buries himself in his ‘work’, he lets people arrive at their own conclusions. He works very hard to make sure that those conclusions are the wrong ones.
He has a plan and is not shy about people dying along the way as long as he is not one of those people. He will take risk but never direct ones because he is, to a point, very careful to make sure that no trail can lead back to him.
He is in no small amount of danger should he be discovered but, then again, he has gone to incredible lengths to make sure that he is not.
Add to this that he has spent a lot of time and effort making sure that people do not even consider suspecting him of doing anything intelligent or creative.
Conclusion
The tagline of The Chronicles of Enoch : Preludes includes the following
“In a time of danger and the rise of the shadow….one would think we need a hero.
We don’t.
….We need a bastard..”
This, to me, encapsulates the need for the anti-hero. Let’s be honest here, if the hero type is predictable and follows certain rules without exception, they are both predictable and a liability. If they are going to behave in a certain manner when faced with certain circumstances, they can be manipulated.
Take Sable. He is not a typical hero in a number of ways but, in his essence, is a moral and honourable being. He will endanger himself in order to protect his friends or the innocent, he would stop a nothing to protect Enoch (something Gilgamesh manipulates masterfully in Darkness Within but, thankfully, for a good reason). He allows himself to be captured and brutally tortured so that his friends can get away, resulting in a lot of pain and suffering for himself along the way. All of this happens because Sable can, as a hero, manipulated, his actions predicted.
Asmodeus willingly sacrifices people who trust him, would shoot the hostage and then the enemy without compunction, he would ‘trust’ his friends to act as he anticipates they would when they are in a dangerous situation he created but not cry too much if they failed to escape unscathed.
Why? Because very few people know Asmodeus as he really is, they know one or more of his personas but they, very importantly, don’t know him so he’s not invested in anyone. Well, almost anyone but that’s as much of a spoiler as you’re getting.
So; that is why we don’t always need heroes because an anti-hero is more interesting, more entertaining, more frustrating and engaging, more unpredictable and, with all of that, they are a much deeper and enjoyable character. People love the anti-hero because they can identify with them, see themselves as them, and even admire them.
Or maybe we still need heroes because sacrifice is what really gets things done when everything is in the balance but we also need a capable bastard or two to help them out.

Secret Societies and Hollow Men

(and women, of course)
There are dozens, if not more, relatively new and ancient secret societies in the world today; all of them have a single aim driving their existence and continued survival; world domination.
There is, to my mind, one small problem with that picture; how can they all be working towards world domination? Surely we only need one shadow government subverting everything? They cannot be competing to be the dominant subverter surely?
That would, we believe, be rather silly.
So, a more logical mind would come to a different conclusion; either there are no secret societies at all or there is only one of that that is real; the others are inventions of people like Dan Brown. perhaps he is responsible for all of them but the secret masters let him live for their amusement.
Everybody Wants To….
Tear for Fears references aside, there are, at last count, over 100 secret societies operating either large-scale or minor subversion. Let us list some of them, at least those we get to meet to a degree in The Chronicles of Enoch;
  • The Illuminati; Made popular by Mr. Brown though few remember the original Illuminati Trilogy that started it all. They are, allegedly, an organisation formed by some of history’s greatest minds whose primary objective is to bring down the Catholic Church and usher in a new age of secular equality for all. As long as said people do what the Illuminati tell them to do. They are “always watching over” us and are said to monitor all communications and surveil every single person in the world for their own protection from unnamed evil forces (possibly the Catholic Chruch).
  • The Rothschilds; A massive banking legacy that controls all the world’s politicians and decides who wins elections. They own all of the world’s banks and control all of the wealth; therefore are dominant in pretty much every aspect of society and life if you think about. It is supposed that there might be a mild antisemetic element to this conspiracy but when has that ever stopped someone?
  • The Nine Unknown Men; a society formed in India somewhere around around either the beginning of the 19th Century of the current era or 270 B.C, depending on who you listen to. These nine men were elected to hide away and guard knowledge deemed dangerous to the human race but vital for its eventual survival. They were to watch and guard until the time was deemed right. They have supposedly leaked secret knowledge on advanced technology and so forth to trustworthy individuals (such as Nikola Tesla) over the years.
  • The Knights Templar; on Friday 13th October 1307, all members of this order were supposedly arrested and executed in quite a well-synchronised operation for the time. They were tried for heresy and devil-worship but, it was thought, their accusers were either after their vast fortune in cash and land deeds or whatever it was that they found under what is now the Western Wall in Jersusalem. Though thought to be extinct, many believe that the Order survives today and may even have morphed into Freemasonry and Roscrucians, and even the modern Knights Templar.
  • The Skull and Bones Society; based out of America’s elite Yale University “Bonesmen” as members are called have included men such as George H.W Bush, George W. Bush, members of Fortune 500 corporations, and the CIA. They are said to be part of a plan for these wealthy and influential individuals to, you may be surprised to learn, take over the world.
  • Opus Dei; Formed by a Spanish priest in 1928, “The Work of God” is an orthodox Catholic organisation recognised and funded by the Vatican. They are said to own and control a number of banks in Spain, Latin America, and a number of other predominantly Catholic countries. Their exact aims are uncertain but Catholic domination is seen as one of them.
  • The Bilberbergs; not a secret society as such because everyone knows about their meetings and where they take place but nobody except the very influential attendees know what happens at those closed-door meetings. The Premiers of the world’s nations, important academics, financial risining stars, and others deemed worthy of an invite. The fact that the Chatham House Rule nondisclosure is applied to all attendees, conspiracy is rife in regards to this group.
That is, of course, not even a fraction of the number of shadowy organisations out there either. They all seem to share a number of important things in common;
  1. World Domination
  2. Secret Knowledge
  3. Hidden Sources of Wealth
  4. Influential Members
  5. A Lot of Rumours But Nothing Proveable
The question of why there are so many of them is one nobody seems willing to provide a decent answer to or, how they are going to share the world once they have dominated it to their satisfaction
The Chronicles Makes its Move
Those of you who have been paying attention to our artworks will have noticed that a number of those secret societies get at least a nod in The Chronicles. It might be their symbolism being hidden in such an artwork and, therefore, being associated with certain characters, it might be characters either claiming or truly belonging to one of those organisations, it might be a certain character claiming to be feeding all rumours related to a number of these societies on the internet but they are there.
The Chronicles cannot be a work that deeply involves conspiracies and not included at least two of them.
The Illuminati; we meet at least three Illuminati characters towards the end of Darkness Within;
  • Douglas Fairfield; their Chief of Operations and Intelligence based out of Home Base, an artificially created island somewhere in the South Pacific. This island is hidden from all forms of detection using technology of unknown origin. Fairfield is a former Met Police and Mi6 operative and manages a vast surveillance network that uses covert drones, hacking into metropolitan CCTV networks, and backdoors into the monitoring networks most governments use to keep an eye on their citizens. Asmodeus has womed his way undetected into some of their servers.
  • Kaleb Aristedes; a billionaire playboy (there must always be one) and accomplished pilot who acts as ‘taxi driver’ for the Illuminati. He ferries whoever needs to be taken between Home Base and anywhere else in the world using a series of hidden fuel dumps across the ocean.
  • Lord Sir James Perrithwaite; former politician, distant cousin to the Queen who died over 30 years ago. The Illuminati like to pick their Grandmasters from the dead as it makes things less complicated, ultimately. It also means that Perrithwaite may never leave Home Base or be seen in the world, especially considering his former position.
An amusing note to add at this point is that my decision to include the Illuminati was inspired by how easy they are to join these days. I got an email telling me that all I had to do to join is sign up. I could rise through the levels of their ranks by purchasing their cheaply made jewellery and associated tat. I’d always thought it was more challenging than that was signed up with no hesitation. I kept getting thier well-written motivational emails for a while until they realised I was unlikely to make a purchase.
The Nine Unknown Men; there is only one of the Men present in Darkness Within but we do have plans to involve others later on in the series;
  • Rabbi Tav Pachowski; rabbi Pachowski was recruited into the Unknown Men by Marcus Vanderbilt, the father of Charles and Peter. At this time, the rabbia has actively been collecting intelligence on known Fallen angels and Nephilim around the Atlanta area. He has been tailing Sable for what may well turn out to be very personal reasons.
Of course, there is no denying that Asmodeus is very much involved in an awful lot of conspiracy traffic these days; many of the stranger pieces of information regarding the weirdest of the secret societies tend to come from his archives and bots. He especially likes the ones which cause arguments and mistrust, they are the kind that, he’ll tell you, require hard work and artistry.
Conclusion
There is no question that people are fascinated by the possibility of secret people, doing secret things in secret places which affect the rest of us. There is a lasting appeal to knowing a little bit more about these shadowy figures we can influence in no way whatsoever, or at least thinking that we do of course.
Just like ancient peoples invented gods and demi-urges to explain difficult, unexpected or inexplicable natural events, modern people need explanations too, it would seem. We need to believe there is some kind of sense and order to it all in direct opposition to all evidence.
Nefaerious secret people manipulating everything from the shows on television to the words you consciously see in the newspapers are as good an explanation as any other.
Asmodeus has one final word for you, though;
“…these people who told you about these organisations, these societies that hide in secret places and, basically control everything, right? These people who provide the information you read about; how do they do that when said organisations seem rather keen on secrecy and privacy and, it is hinted, are not shy about discouraging – terminally quite often – interest in their activities? How did they stay alive long enough to actually report it?
“So, I think we can safely say that any information you are seeing on the internet either comes from this very room or, you can assume that it is faked by someone else because the mere fact that it is ‘out there’ means that it is in no way a threat to Them; whichever They it happens to be referring to or popular at the time…”