A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Once upon a long ago…

October 23, 2009
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I got sent a link to the Wolfman trailer by @booklover73 on Twitter and it got me thinking about the tale of The Wolfman I was told as a child.

Since it’s almost Halloween seems appropriate to share it, so gather round gentle readers, and read along to this dark tale.

Once upon a long ago, there was a land in chaos.

In the United Provinces of the Spanish Netherlands the king of the land, was not pleased with his kingdom. He believed to rule his kingdom properly, everyone must follow his rule under, his god. He wanted the people of the provinces to have one god only.

The people of the seven provinces had always lived good lives. But when they told the king they did not wish to follow his god, they made him mad. The King formed armies of men in silver who were dispatched to make the people, listen to his decree. When they did not, they often met with death at the end of a sword, or were hung.

The people lived in fear of the kings silver men.

The men in silver were many, and always travelled as large groups on horseback. They carried swords, and they never left a village standing. Their arrival always signaled that death would follow to those who opposed the king.

But there was one village the silver men came to, that history would prove, to be different to the others they had conquered.

In the province of Uterecht, most of the villages had heard of the warring these men were bringing across the lands. A man named William, had spoken to them, told them of what it meant to fight the kings’ rule. William formed many friends, who rode with him across the provinces spreading the word of what was coming to those who did not do as they king wished.

The villagers of Maarssen, knew they could save their own village if they sought the council of their neighbors the Breukelen for help. They knew it would not be long before the silver men visited the town and burned their houses for not following the King’s decree of one god for all.

The village of Breukelen was also a small village, filled with families, farmers, blacksmiths and women who made the finest patterned materials of silk and wool. They like the Maarssen were a happy village, who were happy to live their lives from day to day, doing as they always had.

After speaking to the elders from Maarssen they decided the best way to save their villages from ruin and keep their people alive was to join their defenses.

The war of the silver men, was always moving closer to them, every day.

Together they sought out their surrounding neighbors for help in protecting the lands they lived on and their people.

They formed groups of messengers. Each group with a member from the Maarssen and the Breukelen was told to ride to a village and seek their support for the war.

The villages were spread wide and far.

The evening two of the messengers reached a village, but it was already too late.

Every house in the village burned. Bodies lay slain in the streets and pierced through pitchforks as a warning to those who rode through, of the might of the kingdom’s silver men.

Flames burned crops of wheat. The night sky was so blackened from the smoke of many fires, that the stars could not be seen for three whole nights. Instead of sunlight for those three days, ash rained down from the darkened sky.

Few animals managed to escape being slaughtered. Horses ran scared through cobblestone streets. The cattle of farmyard animals, whined so loudly that it was said the messengers thought they were crying and screaming at the same time, as they stampeded the nearby lands in confussion.

But one man, was found alive in the village.

On his knees, he wept.

He wore a fur across his shoulders, and a helmet with a wolf’s head on it. He held a younger man, in his arms, his eyes closed, blood staining his clothes.

“He was my brother.” The Beserker told the messengers.
“He fought the soldiers. He tried to stop them from coming into our village. We are peaceful he told them. We have artists here. Artists do not need to seek god or war. We have taverns with mead that you will be given all night. Beds for you to rest in as long as you need. But the soldiers did not care. I could not get to him, before they drew their swords and cut him down. A woman screamed and then they began burning our homes, killing our people.”

The messengers listened to the weeping Beserker. They offered to help the Beserker bury his brother, so he could be at rest. The Beserker, was so angry by the thought of parting from his brother, he yelled at the messengers:

“I will ruin the fires of the one god and king in blood and love. When the moon is next full, I shall walk amongst those who seek to destroy us as a man. By nightfall they will only see the beast of their creation, an animal that abhors mankind, and only seeks to fuel his revenge through their death. I will tear them apart with my teeth and cut open their flesh. I curse their life if it can not be this way for them as it is for me!”

The messengers, tried to help calm him down. But he would not be parted from his dead brother nor listen to the messengers who told him to join their cause. The Messengers realized there was nothing further they could do and left.

It is said that after three nights of falling ash from the sky the darkened smoke cleared and the full moon was able to be seen.

The messengers continued to form their alliances with the villages, and fight the silver men’s armies. Reports came in from far and wide of a lone creature, not unlike a wolf but some said more like a man, seeking out only the silver men and those they protected under the king’s rule. These people would be found dead, their throats torn, their hearts missing, with only claw and teeth marks on them. It was often said that wild animals, wolves in particular had attacked them.

But those two messengers always thought that this was the Besersker’s curse to carry as the Wolfman, forever seeking his vengeance, yet never satisfied.

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