Reading Diary A - British // Beowulf

Beowulf

Author's Notes

We all know the story of Beowulf, at least most of us. This is to me probably the most legendary legend ever, that's right, I used legend twice in one sentence. I reference Hercules a lot, but mostly cause of his popularity, thank to Disney, but Beowulf is the legend of all legends (that's right, said it again) in its most purist form if you ask me. It doesn't sugar coat or censor, it certainly boosts and over exaggerates, and the warrior's feats are epic = all qualities a legend must have. It also has beautiful, descriptive imagery and writing to go along with the action packed tasks. The writer Strafford Riggs lays out an almost movie like script in such detailed passages of writing that I hope to even halfway emulate. Here is my favorite passage in which Beowulf and Grendel go savage on one another:

"Beowulf, the lord of Geatsland had fastened both mighty hands upon the monster's arm and, with a sudden twist that forced a groan of agony from Grendel's lips, leaped behind him, forcing the imprisoned arm high up Grendel's back, and the beast fell prone on the floor.

Now came the final struggle, and sweat poured from Beowulf, while from Grendel there oozed a slimy sap that smelled like vinegar and sickened Beowulf. But he clung to the monster's arm, and slowly, slowly, he felt its great muscles and sinews give way, and as his foot found Grendel's neck, he prayed to all the gods for help and called upon his father Ecgtheow for strength to sustain him in this desperate effort.

And the mighty arm of Grendel gave way in the terrible hands of Beowulf, and, with a piercing shriek that shook the gilded rafters of Heorot, Grendel stumbled forward, leaving in Beowulf's hands the gory arm."

Detailed. Written well. Exciting. Epic. Legendary. Beowulf. Beautiful.

Beowulf

Week 10 Storytelling - Spirit

Spirit

He peered over the misty mountains of the Northwest coast. The thick vapor was his stealth. The days stayed like this by his doing as he prayed to the Thunder God for this gloom as it would eventually be to his advantage in the death to come. The Thunder God looked favorably upon him, as he granted this cloudy coverage.

Spirit waited. Perched on the mountain. Waiting for death to come. It was cold. He could see his breath. These were his surroundings. His forest. He thrived in these conditions. He was a shadow. A hawk. A warrior of the Northwest. A solemn individual that never spoke. Only listened. Listened to the forest. To the trees. To the wolves. To the hawks. To the invaders. He was bred to be a warrior. The last of his slaughtered tribe. Now he wander the Northwest looking to conquer those who had done this blasphemy so many years ago.

Spirit the Pacific Northwest Warrior

He would have to live with that pain forever, as he was immortal. The only way he could die was in battle. The glorious way. These parameters set upon him by the Thunder God. With this immortality came abilities. Spirit abilities. Hawk vision, and pearl white eyes to show. Like bolts of lightning were trapped in his eyes. The strength and cunning of 10 normal men. And inhuman movement like he was gliding when he fought. His attire all black. The only things not were his white-shot eyes and his face. The entirety of his face from his forehead to his neck were teal. Pacific Native War paint. Though he craved stealth he still wanted his adversary to have a clear target for his face. A challenge to all. A notion of confidence, and a visually poetic hue of a war cry. Wolf fur and Feathers surrounded his traps like a scarf. He carried a great spear, two body lengths long, adorned with feathers, painted all black. Three teal bands were painted closer to the sharpened orca-vertebrae tip. He carried a torso sized shield carved from a great orcas skull. It was carved into a giant stylized hawk painted all black, in the style the Pacific Northwest Natives were known for. His last piece was his carved hawk helmet that cover his head from the forehead to the back of his skull. This too was painted black and magnificently war torn from battle.

Finally he saw gleams of spark and orange light in the heavy mist from atop his mountain. He perched days waiting for this. For he would finally come face-to-face with his tribes murderers. This time he would be death-bringer. Like a raven atop the reapers shoulder. A teal-faced black sea-hawk ready to stretch out his talons and rip the life from those who have scarred him. The lights were coming towards him but were too far out to see him. Spirit  closed his eyes. Everything went slow. He took in a breath, cold air coming from his lungs. He opened his eyes... and charged the lights from the downward slant of the mountain to the misty field his enemies walked.

A spear whizzed through the air, cutting, through the dew of the mist. Slink! Right through the face of the first double-horned helmet. Roars followed and a rush towards where the spear came from. Spirit ran at them with a silent ferocious intent. Everything went slow again. He could see them, they could not see him, but they were charging, stomping, ready to kill for their leader had just been pierced through the face with a long spear... Vikings... Their thundering roars spit at the unseen silent assassin, and his teal face and white-lighting eyes. Was Spirit ready for a glorious death or we he leave battered with revenge and honor for his fallen tribe. The oppositions still running at one another. Charging in an elegant war-ready scene. Everything goes black...

Author's Note
Spirit is inspired from the stories, style and culture of Pacific Northwest Native Americans. I tried another style of writing. Pretty traditional for me, but in my head more like a movie as I started to get to the end of it. I like this kinda, slo-mo, abstract, visual, screenplay, war-scene of Spirit and the Vikings. I tired to keep the story pretty mysterious. I went back and fourth with contemplations of making the last sentence "The Vikings would meet Valhalla... " and taking out the previous word "Viking" to only reveal that Spirit's opposition was in fact, Vikings only at the end in the last sentence. I'm still contemplating it. I like the abstractness of the story. It will be harder to follow than any of my others but that is conceptual as Spirit is the most mysterious of my warriors thus far. I am also still contemplating his name and trying to think of something better.

The picture was a great source of inspiration. It was intact the primary source of my story. I find that my best stories come from visuals. My mind goes off and sparks up stories from what I see as I am a very visual person. Hints me being a graphic designer and all. New found creative writer as well maybe haha. The visual style of Pacific Northwest Native art was also a major inspiration. Their color motifs, and abstracted depictions of animals, specifically the hawk, bear, and orca, are just amazing and fresh. They definitely have one of the more unique style of any culture. These types of animals and the specific style is seen all together on their famous totem poles. Teal, crimson, white and black, and wood grain are their primary colors, and heavy black abstract line work tie it all together for a very unique style. Spirit was definitely a fun one to make, and I hope the conceptual thoughts of mine come through to the reader.

___
Image sources:
warrior - http://www.spiritwrestler.com/catalog/index.php?artists_id=281
style/print - 12X12 Giclée Print Northwest Native by NorthwestNativeGifts

Reading Diary B - British North America Native Stories

British North America

The Burning of the World

Once all the world was burned. Only a man and his mother and his sister were saved. Before the fire there were many people on earth. Then the young man fell out with his father, and they became enemies. The young man had heard that all the world was to be burned, but his father did not believe it.

Now the young man made a bow and arrows. He shot one arrow to the west, and one to the east, and one to the north, and one to the south. The places where the arrows fell were the four corners of a bit of ground which would not burn. The young man told everybody who wanted to be saved from the fire to come onto that square of land. Many did not believe the world would be burned, so they would not come.

After a while the fire came. They could hear it. They were encamped by the side of a big lake. By and by all the birds and animals came running to that bit of ground marked out by the arrows. The old man had quarreled with his son, so he would not come.

The fire was very hot. All the water boiled because it was so hot. After a while the fire was put out, and the water had settled down. Everything had to be started over again.

Now there were many animals on this patch of ground, and the man named some of them and told them what to do.

He put Beaver in the water, but Rabbit wanted to live in the water. The man said, "No."

Then Rabbit jumped into the water and the man had to pull him out. He said to Rabbit, "Your legs are too long. Even if you do eat willow like Beaver, you don't go about in the water properly."

Squirrel wanted to be Bear. He did all he could to be Bear. He argued and chattered a great deal about it. The man said, "Oh, you're too noisy. You wouldn't be a good Bear." He said also, "If you are Bear, you are so noisy that when people come again, they will kill too many of you. A bear must keep quiet. He has many enemies."

Then Squirrel began to weep. He wept until his eyes were white. Even today Squirrel has eyes bright and swollen from weeping.

The man made Bear then, because he was nice and wise and quiet.

Somebody wanted to be Caribou—nobody remembers just who wanted that.

Then Deer was made, and made so swift that he could outrun all pursuers.

After the man had finished making all the animals, he put a mark on them, so people would know what they were. Then the man had to give all the people new names. His mother he called Robin, because she was friendly. His sister he called Golden-winged Woodpecker, because she was beautiful. He called himself Blackbird because he would only come every spring.

Author's Note

Interesting story. My favorite part was squirrel wanting to be bear. It made me laugh a little at the thought. Now I could have shown an image of the world burning. And trust me I wanted to, it was temping (some people just want to see the world burn) but comedy beat intensity today and a colorful picture of a bear and a squirrel was chosen instead as that is my favorite part of the whole story haha.

Bear & Squirrel

Reading Diary A - Pacific Northwest Native Stories

Pacific Northwest

Three Raven stories

The Origin of DaylightNanaimo version of Tlingit legend
When the earth was very new and young, it was dark and cold and gray. Even the stars were black. There was no light anywhere for Gull kept it in a small box which he guarded carefully.

His cousin, Raven, was tired of the dark. He wished for the daylight.

One day when Gull and Raven were out walking, Raven thought, "I wish Gull would run a thorn into his foot."

Hardly had he thought so, when, in the darkness, Gull stepped on a thorn. "Sqenán! My foot!" cried Gull.

"A thorn?" asked Raven. "Let me see it. I will take it out." But it was so dark Raven could not see the thorn. He asked Gull to open the box and make it light.

Gull opened it just a little way and the light was very faint. Raven said, "You must give me more light."

Gull answered, "Sqenán!"

So Raven pretended not to see the thorn. Instead of pulling it out, he pushed it in deeper and deeper, saying, "You must give me more light."

"Sqenán! Sqenán! My foot! My foot!" cried Gull. Raven pushed the thorn in deeper and deeper until Gull at last opened the box. That is the way the daylight came.
___

Owl and RavenEskimo

OWL and Raven were close friends. One day Raven made a new dress, dappled black and white, for Owl. Owl, in return, made for Raven a pair of whalebone boots and then began to make for her a white dress.

When Owl wanted to fit the dress, Raven hopped about and would not sit still. Owl became very angry and said, "If I fly over you with a blubber lamp, don't jump." Raven continued to hop about.

At last Owl became very angry and emptied the blubber lamp over the new white dress. Raven cried, "Qaq! Qaq!" Ever since that day Raven has been black all over.
___

The Spell of the Laughing RavenKlamath

At "dance place" when the Klamath Lake people danced, many people were there. Kemush, Old Man of the Ancients, went there. Then Old Raven laughed at them, laughed when they danced, and all people dancing there became rocks.

Gray Wolf entered Kitti above, from the north. There he stopped and lay down, although not yet having reached his home. In full dress, at that spot, moccasins with beads on toe, stopped and rested.

Then Old Grizzly approached Old Gray Wolf while lying asleep. And Old Grizzly stole from Gray Wolf his moccasins, beads also, and put them on to go to the fishing place.

Upon this, Old Gray Wolf, waking up, threw Old Grizzly down hill. He rolled him down over the rocks for having robbed him of moccasins and beads also. Thus killed he Old Grizzly.

Upon this, the Klamath Lake people began fighting the Northerners because Old Grizzly had been killed by Old Gray Wolf.

Then Old Raven laughed at them when fighting and they became rocks.
___

Author's Notes

These stories caught my eye most from the Pacific Northwest Native stories. I chose to do the Pacific NW in the first place because I recalled reading about their vastly different customs and color palette from elements such as totem pols to the very stylized depictions of animals, and their tattoo like abstractions. I also have played rugby with some Pacific Islanders, also know as Polys, including places like Hawaii, Fiji, Samoa, etc, as rugby is a huge part of their culture as well. These are generations of course and not all of the customs and cultural stories match up with the stories I've read. This units stories particularly match up with the states of Washington and Oregon.

These short story formats also made me think of Aesop's Fables. I love this format. And having three to directly compare and contrast with their respective cultures attached to them is a treat. Like Pacific NW Native Aesop fables, just really cool to me.

The below picture is of a sculpture of a Raven Dancer. It reminded me of the Black Swan as well but with a Native essence of solidarity. I love black on black. The matte and gloss contrast is so beautiful. I want to possibly make a warrior out of this little guy as it has inspired me.

Pacific Northwest

Raven Dancer

Week 9 Storytelling - The 3 Native

The 3 Native

In the wild land of early North America when there were only Native peoples there lived three vastly different Native warriors. Some say they were spirits, some say they were deities,  some say they were reincarnates of demigods fallen from the sky. No one knew their exact origins though. What was know however, is that each warriors protected one of the three directions of North America. West, East, and Central. Not as a pack but as individuals. Legends in their own rights. Unbenownced to one another but all sons of the motherland. All natural, 100% American muscle. Weapons of nature and Native culture. Hunters. Warriors. Beasts.

They were not known by names. They had none. For they did not need be known, only feared. Feared from all who try to claim natural North American. Any who tried to molest its natural state and freedom would in turn be conquered themselves. Accounts of what these warriors look like are so far and few between as only those who challenged them or the land would ever see them, and many do not return home. 

One warrior wore a great wolf's head over a grizzly head. He believed he drew the predatorial spirit from these animals that would aid his savagery and tactic in battle. Throwing tomahawks and a bash club were his weapons of choice. The bash stick was like a modern baseball bat but with a sculpture like circle at the end of the straight-to-curved weapon. It was a blunt tool of force. Cracking skulls and shattering femurs. His preferred ways to destroy with the bash club were by smashing the skull's temple, or the collapsing the ribs with quick blunt force. The trauma he dealt was obviously deadly, like the power of a bear's slash and swing at its prey. Tomahawks to the achilles tendon was another one of his favorites, as the enemy was left unable to walk and on the ground agonizing. He would usually finish them off with the bash stick to the dome.

One warrior was rumored to be more demon spirit than man protector. He was a ruthless killer. Just as much an animal as a man. His left arm/shoulder/trap was that of a grizzly bears. From the massive shoulders and size, to the brown fur. Complete with giant bear claws and bear muscle, with brute slashing strength. He could tear trees in half. He had the roar of a grizzly. In battle he fought more beast like than like a man. He was a brute hulk. He ripped the faces off poor souls. He broke necks with sheer force. He breathed embers. Spark and ash roared from his jaws with the same effects as flame throwing flames. Victims caught in the wind of this deadly magnificence would  smoke up with a plague like sweep of embers setting them ablaze while spreading throughout their whole body, further disintegrating flesh. His eyes burned with the same coal eyes as his breath. What was he? A demon? A spirit? A man? No one is for sure. But what was for sure, was that he was a fierce protector. A force to be reckoned with.

One warrior was a skilled killer with the bow. Maroon war paint covered his face, down to his shoulders, streaking to just below his chest. He had one maroon dyed feather on his head. He had a tattoo sleeve on his left arm of 100 maroon arrows scattering in every hectic direction. Each of his arrows was all maroon from the arrow tips to the, shaft and feathers. He loved the bow and arrow. And he loved death. He also had a jagged black-obsidian volcanic-rock dagger. It was sharper than a katana, like hardened black glass. He was deadly with the bow. The best. Perhaps the most vicious of the protectors as well. He would rage with the bow. Firing shots off like an old time machine gun. He didn't mind taking a few arrows out, sliding them between his finders, and hand-to-hand, jabbing and striking opponents with them as he slaughtered groups at a time even. His obsidian blade would do just the same, but would flay tendons, flesh and muscle like a knife through butter. But his favorite was the bow. From 500 yards out, or 10 foot away, it did not matter. Bow kills would always take the most fatalities for this warrior.

The 3 Native. The savage Native American protectors. War cry they soon die. Fear the Culture. Fear North America. Fear the legends. The 3 Native.

____

Author's Notes

Inspired by stories and themes from Native Stories and mythology.

I thought about making this story set in the far future where things in North America went back to a more natural state and Natives thrived, and technology became decrepit and dysfunctional so traditional skills of hand-to-hand came back, and the traditional Native warriors were back to top of the food chain in America. But I wanted a little bit more history so I decided not to do so, but still a good idea I thought.

I also had other crazy ideas like one warrior being the alpha of a wolf pack, commanding them at his whim to kill. 'Sick em' and they pursued. Scores of wolves. But I decided not to have animals, just references, or parts of them.

I wanted to pay homage to the buffalo and have someone wear a buffalo skull or something. But chose not. Other pre story notes included weapons or elements of an bald eagle, or mountain lion. Like feathers or talons or claws. Maybe a great eagle talon dagger. Cool ideas that didn't make the final cut.

My first revision had four warriors and was called "the 4 Native." Here is the description of the warrior I took out: "One warrior had a weapon like no other. He did carry the traditional native spear and a one foot diameter traditional war shield, but his specialty was a great stag antler, forearm attachment. The antler strapped to his wrist and forearm and was an extension of the arm, extending an extra two feet, with sharp antler tips jutting out in their many organic directions. This warrior was all about optimal piercing weapons and thrusting strikes. His forearm antler-blade was a weapon of nature. He too was as agile and majestic as the stag, but that all stopped with the aggressive tips of his weapons. He pierced throats, lungs, thighs, and hearts with his stag horn. He threw his spear one-hundred yards with deadly accuracy and puncturing force. The strike. The impale. He was the agile piercer." He just wasn't as dynamic to me.


I also almost combined the remaining three warriors to add a single one into my portfolio. I was gonna somehow incorporate this by having a forward of his ability or curse or whatever that made him shift forms, or shift warrior type after every morning's wake. I didn't like this one too much. Then I just thought each style/equipment could have been just things he went back and fourth on. I didn't like that as much either cause the identities were vastly different. So I just kept it to the three and I am happy with that decision. I like these three in their own unique ways. But if I did figure out some way to combine them I would have named 'em Amerika, Native (but probably not), or Tso'i U-ka-dv or "three face" in Cherokee. I do wish I could combine em somehow, they are just so different and cool though. Oh well. Ya win some ya win some. 

Another really really cool idea was to bring elements of other bad ass historical warriors into the mix like one of the protectors having a fallen Spartan's shield or samurai's katana from when that respective warrior ventured to North America only to meet his death from one of the three Native. A Native American warrior with a katana just sounds so dope.

And lastly I pondered back and fourth to if I should name the Native warriors. Maybe? Maybe not? In the end I decided not too. But names like Burning grizzly, Maroon, Stag, Boom or Boom-ie-ay (with the Bash stick) came to mind. I could have gone crazy with those but I preferred them mysterious, unknown and unconquered.

Native Warrior

Reading Diary B - Myths & Legends of the Great Plains

Myths and Legends of the Great Plains

The Buffalo & The Grizzly Bear

Grizzly Bear was going somewhere, following the course of a stream, and at last he went straight towards the headland. When he got in sight, Buffalo Bull was standing beneath it. Grizzly Bear retraced his steps, going again to the stream, following its course until he got beyond the headland. Then he drew near and peeped. He saw that Buffalo Bull was very lean, and standing with his head bowed, as if sluggish. So Grizzly Bear crawled up close to him, made a rush, seized him by the hair of his head, and pulled down his head. He turned Buffalo Bull round and round, shaking him now and then, saying, “Speak! Speak! I have been coming to this place a long time, and they say you have threatened to fight me. Speak!” Then he hit Buffalo Bull on the nose with his open paw.

“Why!” said Buffalo Bull, “I have never threatened to fight you who have been coming to this country so long.”

“Not so! You have threatened to fight me.” Letting go the buffalo’s head, Grizzly Bear went around and seized him by the tail, turning him round and round. Then he left, but as he did so, he gave him a hard blow with his open paw.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! you have caused me great pain,” said Buffalo Bull. Bobtailed Grizzly Bear departed.

Buffalo Bull thought thus: “Attack him! You too have been just that sort of a person.”

Grizzly Bear knew what he was thinking, so he said, “Why! What are you saying?”

“I said nothing,” said Buffalo Bull.

Then Grizzly Bear came back. He seized Buffalo Bull by the tail, pulling him round and round. Then he seized him by the horns, pulling his head round and round. Then he seized him again by the tail and hit him again with the open paw. Again Grizzly Bear departed. And again Buffalo Bull thought as he had done before. Then Grizzly Bear came back and treated Buffalo Bull as he had before.

Buffalo Bull stepped backward, throwing his tail into the air.

“Why! Do not flee,” said Grizzly Bear.

Buffalo threw himself down, and rolled over and over. Then he continued backing, pawing the ground.

“Why! I say, do not flee,” said Grizzly Bear. When Buffalo Bull backed, making ready to attack him, Grizzly Bear thought he was scared.

Then Buffalo Bull ran towards Grizzly, puffing a great deal. When he neared him, he rushed on him. He sent Grizzly Bear flying through the air.

As Grizzly Bear came down towards the earth, Buffalo Bull caught him on his horns and threw him into the air again. When Grizzly Bear fell and lay on the ground, Buffalo Bull made at him with his horns to gore him, but just missed him.

Grizzly Bear crawled away slowly, with Buffalo Bull following him step by step, thrusting at him now and then, though without striking him. When Grizzly Bear came to a cliff, he plunged over headlong, and landed in a thicket at the foot. Buffalo Bull had run so fast he could not stop at the edge where Grizzly Bear went over, but followed the cliff for some distance. Then he came back and stood with his tail partly raised. Grizzly Bear returned to the bank and peeped.

“Oh, Buffalo Bull,” said Grizzly Bear. “Let us be friends. We are very much alike in disposition.”

Thoughts
At first I was really confused as why the Grizzly was so mean haha I said to myself "why is Grizzly such a dumb bully" as his bullying seemed awkward, spinning Buffalo around and only taunting him really. They are both similar in size and strength so I also thought "why is Buffalo getting pushed around like a b*#@h?!" But eventually he fought back and I was proud. But the whole spinning by the tail thing was ridiculously funny/stupid to me. I couldn't get over that haha. But I could picture an epic death fight like a previous story I created between a great wolf and a beast lion. Doooope. The Grizzly, Buffalo, and Wolf are all heavily included in Native cultures, and are my top North American animals.

Beast of A Grizzly Bear

(Really Beorn from

"The Hobbit")

Reading Diary A -Cherokee Myths

Cherokee Myths

The Hunter and the Uksu'hï
I can sum this one up fast even though it was my favorite of the group. A hunter looking for excitement in Georgia, though warned, goes to seek out the deadly Uksu'hï, a great snake two times bigger than the South American anaconda.. That's huge. The hunter finds what he is looking for but is quickly frightened by the size of the sight of the monster. He runs, it chases, it wraps him up and nearly breaks his ribs. He luckily uses his sweat and stench to detract the snake and go free with his life, but just barely.

Thoughts
This completely reminded me of the old movie Anaconda. That one really got to me when I was younger but when I go back and look at it I laugh because of the effects. I imagine a way cooler warrior though, and that he actually slays the great snake. Maybe with a tomahawk or a dope feathered spear. I really like the pic I chose as well. Great colors and depiction.

Native Warrior