Creation Myth
It was a promise, poken at the feet of a Dark Lord and witnessed by his followers and later in the quiet old woods and under stars on moonless nights.
She had made it to every lost species, every opressed group that had flocked to the Dark Lords feet. The werewolves that wanted basic rights to life and freedom, the Giants that longed to once again own land. Those wild-ling sprites now contained in iron and cement cities instead of wooded expanses. The wild river creatures slowly soffocating or poisoned on dirty water. They had gotton on their kneees before him not out of loyalty or belief but for the lack of options. Better an honest tyrant who admitted he saw them as less but was willing to deal then a shiney golden lit group that paved the way to the gallows with smug superioity and good intentions. These unwanted peoples didn't desire the darks supremecy only the lack of the lights dictation and opression in their lives. They were not dark out of hate but rather out of lack of choices.
When She came to the meeting it was as an oddity, a mudblood that had Hermione Granger as an offering. She just wanted to talk to the Dark Lord and his bretheren. Of course they planned to kill them both, make an example of both the uppity mudbloods. She laughed at him, at the reborn and un-killable called him a cranky child, prone to fits. She kept laughing as he sent curses her way, only to stop and look at the Deatheaters, the representiatives from the Giants and the forest folk, Fenris who spoke for the werewolves and the vampires, told them that she was calling out this trumped up cowerdly child and any interference was proof of his unfitness for leadership. The Dark Lord was smug sure of his own power, sure that he could not be killed by anyone even Dumbledore precious prophacy child. All it took from her was an arched eybrow and his big secret spat out from sneered lips to send him into a tantrum. All he was was a zombie kept animate by his seven horcruxes, he was nothing but a side show, a seven trick pony. Somthing vile and un-natural and pitiable. He was beyond furious throwing spell after spell, curse after curse. She sheilded useing power that no one had ever seen, using spells no one had ever heard of. He howled that he could not be killed as long as his soul survived, She agreed, but replied that she had no thought of killing him. He wasent worht the effort that would take. She called then on eight primordial elements four and four again to bind and trap and hold him fast. She summoned a simple unbreackable bottle and cast his shrunken form into it and sealed him with a ninth element, a number of power to hold him fast. Then transformed a stick into a aluminum bat with a hollow thunk she sent that bottle soaring out over the cliffs that had stood on into the crashing waters and stones no diver would be able to reach. She turned to stunned and furious eyes, held back by rules as old as their much vaunted blood and spoke even as she and the still trussed and wide eyed Hermione fades into mist and light.
"Find him and release him if you wish, I don't care, he doesn't matter. I find myself in need of a change of view. If you want to you can come with me, meet me for that ride where the old white horses run without eyes to watch us."
""
She had made it to every lost species, every opressed group that had flocked to the Dark Lords feet. The werewolves that wanted basic rights to life and freedom, the Giants that longed to once again own land. Those wild-ling sprites now contained in iron and cement cities instead of wooded expanses. The wild river creatures slowly soffocating or poisoned on dirty water. They had gotton on their kneees before him not out of loyalty or belief but for the lack of options. Better an honest tyrant who admitted he saw them as less but was willing to deal then a shiney golden lit group that paved the way to the gallows with smug superioity and good intentions. These unwanted peoples didn't desire the darks supremecy only the lack of the lights dictation and opression in their lives. They were not dark out of hate but rather out of lack of choices.
When She came to the meeting it was as an oddity, a mudblood that had Hermione Granger as an offering. She just wanted to talk to the Dark Lord and his bretheren. Of course they planned to kill them both, make an example of both the uppity mudbloods. She laughed at him, at the reborn and un-killable called him a cranky child, prone to fits. She kept laughing as he sent curses her way, only to stop and look at the Deatheaters, the representiatives from the Giants and the forest folk, Fenris who spoke for the werewolves and the vampires, told them that she was calling out this trumped up cowerdly child and any interference was proof of his unfitness for leadership. The Dark Lord was smug sure of his own power, sure that he could not be killed by anyone even Dumbledore precious prophacy child. All it took from her was an arched eybrow and his big secret spat out from sneered lips to send him into a tantrum. All he was was a zombie kept animate by his seven horcruxes, he was nothing but a side show, a seven trick pony. Somthing vile and un-natural and pitiable. He was beyond furious throwing spell after spell, curse after curse. She sheilded useing power that no one had ever seen, using spells no one had ever heard of. He howled that he could not be killed as long as his soul survived, She agreed, but replied that she had no thought of killing him. He wasent worht the effort that would take. She called then on eight primordial elements four and four again to bind and trap and hold him fast. She summoned a simple unbreackable bottle and cast his shrunken form into it and sealed him with a ninth element, a number of power to hold him fast. Then transformed a stick into a aluminum bat with a hollow thunk she sent that bottle soaring out over the cliffs that had stood on into the crashing waters and stones no diver would be able to reach. She turned to stunned and furious eyes, held back by rules as old as their much vaunted blood and spoke even as she and the still trussed and wide eyed Hermione fades into mist and light.
"Find him and release him if you wish, I don't care, he doesn't matter. I find myself in need of a change of view. If you want to you can come with me, meet me for that ride where the old white horses run without eyes to watch us."
""