The epic of Seluse, often situated within the broader mythological framework of the Era of Rising Lilies, is a classic narrative that intertwines deep-rooted mythical elements with echoes of historical authenticity. The tale unfolds on the secluded Dnkluwos islands, a setting that, while richly depicted, straddles the line between the archetypal mythical landscape and a plausible historical backdrop. This story, believed to originate from a period marked by significant cultural and political upheaval, encapsulates the essence of classic epics through its themes of love, betrayal, and revenge. While primarily recognized as a myth, the persistent oral traditions and fragmented historical records suggest that the narrative may also reflect genuine societal conflicts and transformations of its time.
"In the verdant expanse of a secluded valley somewhere in the Dnkluwos islands, a young girl, Seluse, bloomed amidst the pastoral simplicity of her family’s meadows and woods. Her heart first beat to the rhythms of nature, then to the fervent pursuit of a devoted hunter. Known for his unmatched prowess and arresting presence, the hunter was irresistibly drawn to Seluse, whose beauty and spirit transcended the beauty of the blooms and songbirds of the land. Their love, true and fervent, blossomed, and the hunter became devoted to Seluse, his mind and heart wholly consumed by her, his obsession for his beloved being total and unbroken. This was unseen until the prying eyes of the petty kingdom’s lord caught a glimpse of Seluse’s incomparable beauty and grace.
Consumed by a desire to possess her as one would a precious brilliant white pearl from the seas beyond the hills, the lord’s envy curdled into dark hatred upon witnessing the profound bond she shared with the hunter. Through whispers of ravens, his spies in the skies and amongst the branches of the trees and foliage, the lord’s fury was fueled by tales of their union. In a cataclysm of rage, he descended upon the village, finding Seluse and the hunter embracing, their bodies united in passion, and with ire severing their embrace forever. Under the shadowed boughs of an ancient tree, the hunter was stretched and tied to the great tree, brutally dismembered with powerful axes by the lord's men, methodically breaking his bones, piercing his flesh, and slicing it apart as blood gushed out, prolonging his agony for as long as the hunter could cling to life, while Seluse, held captive by the lord’s gaze, was forced to witness the spectacle of macabre jealousy and violence, each blow and cry of agony echoing the shattering of her world.
Dragged from the remnants of her past life to the lord’s broch, Seluse harbored a secret within her, a new life sparked by the hunter's soul intermingling with her own, shielded in her womb. Her wedding day was drenched in strokes of sorrow for her and triumph for the lord. That night he bedded her like a conqueror, in his mind making her his precious jewel he now possessed.
As her son, born of a drop of the hunter's soul and his mother's essence of love and sorrow, grew under the oppressive shadow of the lord, Seluse instilled in him the truth of his origins. Together, they masqueraded as loyal subjects while hatred for the lord simmered beneath their feigned dutifulness. Driven by relentless obsession and bitter scorn, the lord's wrath against Seluse reached a harrowing climax as her body, filled with hatred and repulsed by the essence of the lord, failed to provide another heir. The lord called his subjects to the courtyard of his broch where he publicly humiliated Seluse. Before the eyes of his subjects, Seluse was stripped bare, lashed until her skin was marred with bloodied welts, and ritually defiled by the lord’s men as punishment for her barrenness. Her sentence was proclaimed, death would be certain should she conceive from the defilement she endured under the command of her husband by his men.
Witnessing his mother’s degradation ignited a fierce rage within her son. Having learned the art of commanding crows from his hated stepfather, under his mother's instruction, he whispered commands to his creatures. That night, the crows harvested the deadly berries of belladonna from across the landscape. The deadly berries were used by Seluse to concoct a potent tincture, poisoning the broch’s well. The following night, under the eerie glow of a red moon, a deep slumber fell upon the broch, paralyzing all but leaving their minds tragically awake.
That night, under a shroud of radiant crimson moonlight enveloping the broch in contrast of sanguine light and umbral shadows, the broch turned eerily silent but for the haunting melody that Seluse, sitting on the steps of the now deadly well, making the grand steps her throne in her kingdom of vengeance. Draped in a veil of sanguine light from the moon high above the heavens and shadows of her sorrow and rage, her voice, both beautiful and chilling, enveloped the stronghold as her son, a confident harbinger of retribution fueled by fury, moved with lethal grace through the halls. Each step he took was a satiation, each movement a release of anger, his actions spoke with the clarity of steel slicing through the night's stillness and the flesh of those who could do nothing but witness their demise.
As Seluse's song rose in a crescendo, so too did the tension within the walls of the broch. Her son’s blade found its victims one after another, their gasps and cries of agony and desperate pleas for life singing a chorus for his mother's melody. This symphony of death, vengeance, and a son's devotion, culminated in a deafening silence that permeated the broch, only broken by the resonating drips of blood amongst the vast sea of mortal silence. In the deepest hour of the night with the red moon high above his mother as a halo of blood, the son appeared before Seluse, his hands stained red but his spirit unburdened and satiated. He knelt at her feet, as a dutiful son and as a subject to a queen, presenting the severed head of the lord.
The fortress, now steeped in the unsettling echoes of its downfall and drenched in the blood of its fallen inhabitants, saw the broch cursed, with only Seluse, her son, and the lingering spirit of the hunter remaining. Legend says that her defilement swelled her womb but she produced no Wolgos, she produced ravenous twisted creatures of hate that slithered and crawled in the shadows, preying on those that dared to approach the Broch. The surrounding lands fell to decay, and the broch was marked as the forbidden realm of Seluse, a now long-lost broch and hill said to appear during full red blood eclipses."
As the echoes of Seluse’s revenge faded into legend, her name and the deeds of that night became enshrined in myth. Over the millennia, "Seluse" evolved into a term of significance, whispered as a warning against the perils of unchecked revenge, yet also uttered in awe as a symbol of indomitable courage, revenge, and defiance. For some, the invocation of her name was a slander, aimed at women who dare defy the constrictions of their roles. But for many, it stands as a source of inspiration. The bloodline of Seluse, said to have continued by her son H1ekwo and his descendants, remained shrouded in enigma. The command of crows that marked H1ekwo's dominion became a legend of its own. His union with a maiden, enchanted by his mystic bond with the birds, bore offspring who might have carried forward their progenitor's legacy. Yet, no clear lineage can be traced, leaving many to speculate or falsely claim descent from this mythic bloodline.
-2100's - Epic of Skérā
-2000s's - Epic of Nébhos
"Nébhos was an old but spritely man who lived long ago. Despite his advanced age and inability to fight for lords, work the fields, or craft tools, he continued to live despite being abandoned by his family. Exiled for refusing to accept that his grown sons were now the heads of their families, Nébhos clung to the lifestyle of his younger self, taking the best cuts of meat and pilfering necklaces, brooches, liquor, and butter. His impudence broke his sons' tolerance, and they threw him from the village, gifting him a cloak and food for his Mr̥tōdǵhem Deywōwelnos (Death pilgrimage).
Outraged, Nébhos stormed away, cursing his village, but refused to begin the death pilgrimage, wandering the lands and growing hungry. He crafted dice from bones, challenging passersby for food or garments. His slyness and years of trickery came in handy as he unwittingly carved dice from the bones of a primordial spirit, giving them an unnatural ability to land where he wanted.
Traveling always as a poor old man, Nébhos amassed hidden wealth in a cave—pearls, gold, gems, and more. Despite his increasing fortune, his avarice was never satiated, and he refused to invest in his lineage or respect the natural order. His actions grew increasingly bold and reckless, further isolating him from any potential allies or redemption.
Nébhos’ cunning brought him success, but it also marked his moral and physical decline. His tricks became riskier, and his health began to deteriorate, but his avarice blinded him to the impending consequences. Paranoia and isolation took hold as he grew older, yet he continued to hoard his wealth, believing it would bring him ultimate power and satisfaction.
Years passed, and Nébhos' obsession with his hoard consumed him. In his cave, surrounded by his ill-gotten gains, he slipped on his gold coins, suffering a horrific fall. Alone, in great pain and unable to move, he was slowly devoured by insects that bit and bore into his helpless flesh. His injuries and insect bites became rotting flesh, with a putrefying stench and oozing pus calling forth maggots and flies. These insects bored deep into him, bursting from his swollen belly with great anguish to Nébhos as he breathed his last gasps of life. Even as he perished in agony, Nébhos never regretted his avarice, a man consumed by the very wealth he sought, his only comfort the glimmer of gold, silver, and pearls strewn around his filthy and primitive cave.
Unbeknownst to Nébhos, the wealth he amassed was linked to the essence of the primordial spirit trapped in the dice. The spirit had laid a trap for Nébhos, awaiting his redemption through seeking his family and passing on his wealth. This act would have released the spirit from its lonely, agony-filled fate. However, Nébhos' refusal to change sealed his doom and left the spirit's curse intact."
To this day, the location of Nébhos’ cave remains unknown. Yet, legends persist among the Wolgos people. It is said that on sunset afternoons, when rain falls and a fine mist forms, a golden pillar of light will appear to cunning old Wolgos men, showing them the way to the cursed treasure. This light guides those who are seen as potential redeemers, leading them to the cave where the wealth—and the curse—awaits a harmonious soul to finally release the primordial spirit.
The name Nébhos remains a common male name among the Wolgos, given to boys to imbue them with cunning and to serve as a reminder of the importance of fulfilling their responsibilities to family, tribe, and the well-being of the Wolgos.
-1800's - Epic of the five bothers
-1500's - Town of Kragwah2s and Kréuksos
Classic Era
Bind Era
Hergom Era
Comics
Ghértanor The Berserker - A popular comic book hero in Hergom
In modern Wolgos societies such as Hergom, casual literary consumption is popular and exists in many forms. One such form is comic books and graphical novels, which have grown massively in popularity over the last century as an easily accessible and fast form to consume stories and indulge in creative artistic styles. Wolgos comics typically revolve around Wolgos literary genres and archetypes, celebrating characters that resonate with Wolgos morals and psyche. Comics offer an easily accessible form of escapism and fantasy fulfilment for many, for Wolgos of all genders and ages.
An example of a quintessential Wolgos comic is Ghértanor the Berserker, a comic revolving around the protagonist Ghértanor, who is a male primitive warrior that embodies much of Wolgos masculine ideals and the primal urges of many. Ghértanor is a character that indulges in his rage, destruction and conquest of foes; his conquests are not only of plunder, tressure or serfs but of beautiful, idealised Wolgos women in the form of princesses, ladies and wild women.
By no means are primal instincts the main stay of Wolgos comics, comics such as Thwralgor & Sleghwna the Raven explore intrigue and adventure in the era of the Bind. Thwralgor is a privileged gymnast and photographer teenage boy with a pet raven named Sleghwna, and they hail from the city of Chaed Praet where they live with an eccentric and lovable spinster aunt that accompanies them on trips across the Bind and the world. In his travels, while excelling at his sport and photography for books and newspapers, Thwralgor becomes embroiled in mysterious incidents that he must unravel and survive, making sure that harmony in the world is restored.
