check my photos, you will figure that out,
check often, i am adding stuff
Paleolithic Anthropology and Archeology
Ancient Anthropology and Archeology
Dark Age (3rd Century) to Renaissance (17 Century ) studies
I study and teach Paleo-Hoplology http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoplology
I study and teach Historical European Swordsmanship and MeMA, European Martial Arts. (not mixed LOL)
I like to write, Books, Stories and the like, here is a wee example
* Underworld got it all wrong
Just for fun, or as Rod Sterling use to say, "Submitted for your consideration".
Lycons serving the sons of Dracul? I think not.
From the dawn of time we where, not hunting for a mere millennia, but hunting across the eons. When Leonidas said, Ã¢â‚¬ËœYou shall not passÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ we were there to see his great victory. When the sons of man shook his flint tipped spears at the darkness and cried out in fear and defiance we were there to see his rebirth as human When the sons of man rose from the primordial slime and no more than an upright worm for which into epoch he had sunk we were there to see his first tentative foot steps back down from the trees to which he had fled. When the sky rained and the fountains of the deep opened we were there to see man drown and curse in vain. When the giants of the earth and heroes of renown walked we met them and gave battle for the joy of war. When the gods of old gave man cold iron, we brought him fire that he could force it into steel. When the first Hyperborean faced the great cats of the age saying, Ã¢â‚¬Ëœyou shall not take what is mineÃ¢â‚¬â„¢, we and only we were there to note this and say here is a worthy aponant, one who can grow strong and fight for hearth and home. Den and pups it is the same, man, who can carry our blood, become us by choice was there, not as food, but as friend and foe. One we would fight with or fight for.
And what are the sons of this robber baron in charge of a mountain pass? We saw him, a minor official, abandoned by his own kind, he rose and brought an invasion that could not be stopped to a stand still, but then, sundered from king and church, hunted he turned to find a way from his condemnation and faced it not as a man, but as a rat, slinking away to hid from the sunlight, to give his being to escape poor justice of his age, and so we watched. A small hive of pale killers, the Cross and the Water of the Church the blades and brands that cut and burned his flesh. Even the presents, the poorest of the poor found that a simple pungent root would dissuade there kinds entry in to their homes. I laugh, a pound of garlic for a kings ransom well, perhaps not a kings, garlic grew in profusion then but the point is amusing, a bulb and the all powerful killers of the night would slink away. A splash of water made with dust swept from a church floor and they burned, and sunlight, the life of the world and the slink to their holes in the earth, laying in boxes of wood, or hanging from the eves of crypts.
Lycons served them not. For the part of the Lycons, like all things of this earth we watched, and mostly ignored this new Ã¢â‚¬ËœlifeÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ that man had produced. Pale creatures that came out only at night, most not hunting true pray, but living on farm animals and vermin, sucking the blood of pigs, consuming the drainings of rats and chickens. Disgusting.
Oh, not Dracula, he was proud, and in the afterlife that was not death, he was stronger than most his kind. So he fed, he grew, he gathered around him men and women and changed them, infected them. Some were not what he expected, sickly mewing things that crawled and whimpered in the darkness, whimpering for that which they could not take for them selves. Others, horridly deformed, taking on futures that Dracula himself could not look upon, cast out and scorned they wander the darkness praying on the foolish, or the simply drunk. Dracula was powerful, yes, and many of his children flowered in to killers fierce and beautiful, but he was not wise, to many he took, to often he hunted when he should have waited and that to his undoing. What happens to the mighty Dracula, the Ã¢â‚¬ËœterrorÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ of the age? A clerk, a teacher and a servant kill him in his own home.
And then come the pretenders; Ã¢â‚¬ËœI was not killed, I am DraculaÃ¢â‚¬â„¢. Ã¢â‚¬ËœNo stake in my breastÃ¢â‚¬â„¢, says I, Ã¢â‚¬ËœI live onÃ¢â‚¬â„¢. Ã¢â‚¬ËœThe sun never consumed my fleshÃ¢â‚¬â„¢, yet another claims, Ã¢â‚¬ËœI live on, a terror of the nightÃ¢â‚¬â„¢. Ha! These fools and fakers, Dracula is belittled by them, turned in to a joke more twisted then his death.
Claims of servitude? Claims Of guarding befouled holes in the ground as these night stalkers sleep? Preposterous. We hunt where the air is clean, where prey is fleet and strong, not blinded by darkness and befuddled by sleep and cheep conjurersÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ tricks. We are the wolves of the Earth, we hunt and stalk at our pleasure. No barnyard fare for us, but the creatures of the wild, strong and canny. No rats for us, no drunkard laying face down in his own filth. No lycon crazed and locked away for centuries, we have been and always were. When the serpent whispered to Eve and deceived her we were there, when Lilith left clad not in leaves by the fur of her kill we walked with her, not slinking at night but in daylight, east of Eden to hunt as we saw fit. When Adam rose to fight the serpents of the earth, when their speech was more than the hiss we slew and ate of them with sword and fang in struggles epic and gruesome.
What are the sons and daughters of Dracula to us? Pups not yet weaned from the teat. Children with milk teeth not fit for the feast fallowing the hunt. Bare your soft throats to them if you wish, but look to what they are, what they become. Oh, some are beautiful, stalking the night for pray that has the strength to resist, to fight back. Some walk among their pray, hunting as the predator should, not culling the flock of the week, lame and sick, but rather seeking the strong, those that take up sword, ax and cross to battle back. Those are the atypical the few. The others, those crawling things that keep their bellies to the ground and sink their foul teeth only on the sick, lame and lazy, these bat faced monstrosities, green with rot and pale with illness, that is the fate of most
Claim not, lie not, we are and have been, when Adam named the creatures of the earth we were.