Cannibal Mountain

CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN - draft 1

CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN

PHASE I: THE ANNUNCIATION

1. Pilgrims Three
2. New Order of Britannians

PHASE II: SOJOURN

1. Mountain Trail
2. Mountain Tribe

PHASE III: RITE OF THE CONSUMMATE FLESH

1. Mountain Burial
2. Gods
3. Fire River: End

Songs:
Night of the Cannibal Mountain Gods


CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN – part I
...altogether dependable, the straight-talking jack beamed at the painted street ladies stopping to compliment the lads golden curled locks.

Whilst the welfare of the boys younger siblings, James and Tracy, often fell to him despite mother Ally promising not to work late in Firelotus tavern.

The taverns quaint trellised entryway little prepared the unwary visitor for the smoky, foul smelling residence within.

Known secretly to Ally was Marcu's penchant for telling remarkable stories. Mysterious stories containing curious facts he could ascribe places and objects in great detail despite having never traveled further than the farms along owlshead outskirts.

Though lean- Marcu's shoulders were firm with straight back. No crooked teeth maligned his smile. Unlike Owlshead's orphans who through starvation and hardship had become twisted and bent.

The town of Owlshead lies between a river and dormant volcanic hill cluster from which it is shielded by a tesla tower.

The surrounding region divides into a patchwork of lush acres of fertile grazing land and ore rich mines.
While fit and one for roaming about, Marcu, without Ally's relentless prodding would likely not rouse from bed of a morning. Opting to while entire days away dreamily.

The same unfortunate tendency tormented Derric, his miner stepfather- a gruff, rowdy, gravel voiced man prone to fits of despondency whilst drunk.

'The family shame', lamented his poor mother who could not excuse her own helplessness and lack of emotional boyouncy.

Derric, who was well acquainted with the town guards had once narrowly avoided the gallows whilst being detained under suspicion of killing one of Lord Enmars sheep when he was recognized by a watchman who had escorted him home the previous night and fortunately, thought fondly enough of him to vouch for his whereabouts.

The boy held no impression of his blood father whom Ally resisted all coercing to discuss, imparting only once these words: “thou hast his eyes, boy”.

Thankfully the ol'e Smithy cared for none of it. Not one iota!

The boys craftsmanship resonated a keen determination to prove to the ol'e man that he possessed the mettle to do a mans labor.

Seeing the rag-clad boys eagerness to evade the trappings and drabness of the miners existence Derric had encumbered upon the long-suffering family was all the provocation the Smithy needed to yield some compassion upon the Marcu by bringing him under his tutorship.

Marcu's apron was cut-down from an old leather one the Smithy had found tucked away in a back cupboard; knowing all too well the boy had not a penny to buy one from Katherines provision store.

“ah, beautiful Katherine”, pondered the Smithy reverently. For once in his younger days Drumold was very much a suitor to the lady. Who despite accumulating some considerable age had maintained the same pretty face and trim dainty figure since her youth. And still attired herself, somewhat symbolically, in fine silks similar to those she wore the night she broke off her engagement to him. Silks he had brought back from Ravenwood gypsy market.

Today however, Drumold would take Marcu by Katherines store to meet her before they journey to Kingsport to board a ship to Novia, where a friend awaits anxiously to show them a remarkable discovery he had made deep in Blackblade...



RITE OF THE CONSUMMATE FLESH (MOUNTAIN BURIAL)
“There were Demons... in those days”, said Etrucian.”Unbeknownst to the foolish hide-clad tribesmen of the Strath; a nightmarish river winding out in black waves from a mountainous gateway known in the old tongue as Serpent Fangs.

Long forgotten to time, the strange language was spoken by primitive men who looked to the Titans power as a means to return the rains, harvest, sunlight and the ultimate solution to their savagely declining existence.

Stranger yet were the Strath waters for they reflect nothing; no sun; no moon; no sky.

Snaking alongshore Tidemarsh; a floodpan village; the rivers long journey eventually ends at the seaside towne of Wavemouth; where the black current transitions into a sea christened Great Transmarinum by seafarers of old seeking passage to the mystical land of Odiolus.

The undiscovered continent; I should add; has eluded modern navigators. despite tradeship records indicating many dealings with the Odiolans took place on a vast land in the icy South seas.

Though some pessimistic historians believe the continent today rests on a continental shelf below the South sea.

The catacombs beneath Great Brittanies library contain a document which speaks of a mausoleum in the hills dedicated to Argian; Odiolus most fearsome warrior.

One of the tribes from the old world still thrives today, secluded in the mists of the ancient mountains beyond Serpent Fangs. They are the Ni'Thawlii.

Few Ni'Thawlii customs are more unusual than the ghastly process by which the departed's soul may be transferred to the afterlife.

One cannot simply obtain through deliberate conditioning or sheer force of will the esoteric state of spiritual awareness nor the divine prowess to project oneself into the beyond.

Ni'Thawlii strictures state that to be transported onward one must,by the loving actions of those one cared for during life, be devoured.

The rite begins with the meticulous stripping bare the cadaver of its skin by process of veneration of the flesh.

Innards fluids and all organs must each be treated in accordance with the strictures specified in the hallowed scroll. Once venerated, the carcasses are to be laid upon the regions highest rocky peaks, with heads pointed toward the rising sun.

The Shaman must then speak the ancient intonation to those gathered in honorable remembrance of the dead and to prepare for the closing consummation.

The veneration of the flesh is particularly barbaric as the Ni'Thawlii revert to a primitive state of reptilian behavior as each savagely consumes the host, or consummate flesh as prescribed in the scroll, leaving naught save the remaining bones to be picked clean by the regions scavenger birds.”

 

'Finally had time to look at this again today, not sure if this is worth finishing.

 

"“There were Demons... in those days”, said Etrucian.”Unbeknownst to the foolish hide-clad tribesmen of the Strath; a nightmarish river winding out in black vacillating waves from a mountainous gateway known in the old tongue as Serpent Fangs."

"“...in tremulous darkness knelt Argian; and with sconce flickering he drew the marsh air deep into his lungs, meditatively, and cried unto the river mother that she may return from her transient rapids his betrothed."

Good stuff matey - classic wordsmithy.

Are the parts of Cannibal Mountain examples of storyteller's tales / writings of the (medieval fantasy) period or are they a modern storyteller's account?

The former is suggested with some olde worlde language, but that clashes a bit with the odd 19/20th century sounding words creeping in like "constabulary", "homicide" and "iota" - perhaps remove those interlopers in an otherwise authentic medieval fantasy setting. You even have "hath" and "marina" in the same sentence...

"Gnosticism, leaving naught save the remaining bones to be picked clean by the regions scavenger birds..."

Gets you reaching for the old dictionary doesn't it?

Oh, and another thing - you've got to finish it (The sort of advice I give to others but fail to follow myself).

 

Thanks you for the kind, detaiked feedback, Greyhaven.

It needs work here and there.

I'll implement all of your suggestions shortly.

Yep, those words don't fit. I knew when i wrote it, but i was short on time. I'll fix it up.

Yes, its also too verbose in parts. I'll take those out too.

The story of argian was a part i was going to weave in for 'diversities sake', but i'll probably take that out and make it another story.

Feel free to update me if you spot further errors/issues.

Regards,

UPDATE: I remembered this story today during lunch. Then the story evolved in my head, and now I am completely rewriting the introduction, and parts as I think I have come up with a far better one. I hope you will enjoy the new version.

 

NIGHT OF THE CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN GODS

Where rivers lieth barren,
and the winds be stranded
Where the sun never sets,
'pon the waves of dust
And where all dreams of hope,
hath been abandoned
Only regrets,
grow out of the rust
And ye mortal fools,
wilt bow down like dogs
On the night of the cannibal mountain gods!
The first night of the cannibal mountain gods!


“from a new ver. of CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN I'm working on: This anthem originated in a 'sacred land' where cannibals devour the dead in sick rituals and create false idols, angering the mountain gods. In this land the sun never sets. But it will tonight. For the cannibals have invoked wrath by slaughtering two of three Holy pilgrims. The remaining pilgrim's spell blots out the sun, bringing in the first night on this forsaken land, allowing the gods to enter the mountain sanctuary and enact vengeance upon the obscene tribe.”

 

Seems we have much in common Sir Hemlock!!

 

Yes we do good Sir,

 

I had actually started to write some melodies for this new ver. i haven't posted, that i completely forgot about. found some in the very earliest stages today.