The Den of the Animmyrath - Tales from the Shadow Pride

Until the stars burn out.

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Tue, 16 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Love is not an object, nor a thing denied.

Love is a force; it is our brightest guide.

No power can restrain it, no life can bind its reins.

We fight against its call, give it shape, give it names.

Yet even at the end, love still harbors no doubt.

It holds through all eternity, until the stars burn out.

Listen:</h1>
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Blackwood Tails: Humanity in Mith

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Fri, 12 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

What is this?</h1>
This short podcast episode started as a project for my first-year writing class, and I’ve decided to share it here for anyone who wants to dive into it. Listen at your own pace, settle in, and follow Ortaiga’s trail. Whether you’re dragon, wolf, kitsune, or something entirely your own, he doesn’t turn anyone away.

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Blackwood Tails: Humanity in Mith. </div> </div>
Transcript</h1>
Opening:</h1>
Narrator:
When you think of evil, what comes to mind? Perhaps a monster,
A dragon guarding its stolen treasure…
A werewolf howling beneath a cursed moon…
or some other creature that once haunted human imagination.
These beings were shaped by fear ,
the fear of what lurks in the dark,
of instincts we cannot control, of power beyond our reach.
But what if that fear was misplaced? What if the monsters weren’t the villains at all?
This question, what happens when the so-called monsters become the good guys , has been explored by many authors, and I wish to continue along that path.
Through storytelling, I’ll breathe empathy, purpose, and heart into these misunderstood beings.
I’ll tell three short tales, of dragons, werewolves, and kitsune, each one reimagining the emotional life of a creature long seen as evil or uncaring.
So, let me tell you a story, or rather, three stories, where the monsters are not what they seem, and where the heart of myth beats with something unexpectedly human.
Section 1: A Dragons generosity:</h1>
Section 1.1: The Basilisk and the Dragon:</h2>
[SFX: faint wind, distant flutter of wings]
Narrator(Ortaiga, reflective):
Listen closely. Can you hear it? The slow beat of ancient wings… the whisper of scales against stone? They say dragons are creatures of greed, but what if the truth burns brighter than gold?
That question echoed through my mind, because soon I realized I would depend on a dragon’s generosity, not for treasure, but for my family’s survival.
My name is Ortaiga Blackwood. This is how a dragon’s kindness saved my brother, and in doing so, saved our village.
SFX: footsteps on a wooden floor, door opens
Doren(weak, hoarse):
“Ortaiga, I failed. The basilisk, poisoned me.”
Narrator:
Doren, my brother, was the strongest among us, a hunter, a protector. He brought monster carcasses to the guards so they left our family in peace. Without him, we were vulnerable.
But that night, he came home broken.
Lyra(urgent, calm):
“Herb kit, Ortaiga, quick! Everything must be ready!”
SFX: rush of fabric, herbs being opened
Narrator:
Lyra, my sister and healer, wasted no time. As I brought her the medicine, she began working. Her hands trembling, her voice gentle but firm, she brewed something to slow the venom in his veins.
SFX: bubbling liquid, soft pour
Narrator:
She gave him a potion, a life-saving brew, but not a cure. Basilisk venom burrowed deep in his blood. For two years, Lyra fought it back. But we all knew it was only a matter of time.
SFX: quiet fire crackling, night ambience
Doren(soft, grave):
“Ortaiga… listen. I don’t have much time left. Someone must carry on when I’m gone. Our family… our village… it can’t crumble in my absence.”
Narrator:
In that moment, everything changed. I realized what he meant: I would have to become the one he was, a guardian, a warrior. He believed in me. More than I believed in myself.
Doren(pleading):
“I’ll train you. Please, Ortaiga. Our future depends on it.”
Narrator:
So I trained. Night after night, I studied how to fight monsters. I leaned on Lyra’s wisdom about their bodies, and Doren’s hard-earned knowledge of their habits.
SFX: torchlight, papers rustling
Narrator:
And then we found a glimmer of hope, not in a book, but in a mission. One of Doren’s trials sent him to slay a dragon. A dragon that had been terrorizing nearby villages for two weeks.
SFX: distant roar, wings beating
Narrator(soft, determined):
That mission became our answer, or at least, the beginning of one.
SFX: heavy wingbeats, crashing trees, a deep roar
Narrator:
When we finally faced the creature, everything went wrong. I struck first, and it struck back harder. Its claws caught me across the chest, tearing through armor and flesh. I hit the ground, breath gone, vision spinning.
SFX: dirt skidding, a body hitting earth
The dragon loomed above me, ready to finish it.
Doren(furious, terrified):
“Not my brother! Not like This!”
SFX: sword drawn, boots charging across stone
Narrator:
Doren charged beneath the beast, roaring like a dragon himself. His blade tore across its belly, and its blood rained down onto me.
SFX: thick liquid splashing, sizzling on skin
Narrator:
At first, the pain was indescribable, burning, searing, like fire burrowing into my bones. But then… the fire turned cold. The cold turned warm. And then,
Strength flooded me. More strength than I had ever known.
SFX: a sudden inhale, energy rushing, ground cracking under a leap
Narrator:
I launched to my feet in a single bound. My battle-axe was already in my hands. I came down from above, striking with force that didn’t feel human.
[SFX: heavy blade impact, a final roar cut short]
The dragon’s head fell before it even understood what had happened.
Doren(stunned):
“Ortaiga, what in the hell?!”
SFX: morning birds, soft brewing sounds, pages turning
Narrator:
It was Lyra who understood first. The next day, she called me over.
Lyra(thoughtful, cautious):
“Ortaiga… I think I know what happened. That creature wasn’t a normal dragon. It was one of Gratolas’s line. The trueth is in your blood.”
Narrator:
My stomach dropped.
Ortaiga(quiet, shaken):
“Gratolas? But his line was supposed to be gone…”
Lyra(firm):
“Clearly not. But that’s not the important part.”
Narrator:
I felt the realization hitting me before she said it.
Ortaiga:
“If his line isn’t gone… then Gratolas isn’t either.”
Lyra:
“Exactly. And his blood can heal anything.”
Narrator:
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Lyra(soft but urgent):
“Ortaiga… you have to find him. You have to ask for his help.”
Ortaiga(determined):
“I will, Lyra. I will.”
Section 1.2: Gratolas:</h2>
Narrator:
It wasn’t hard to find Gratolas.
Not once his blood was running through my veins.
One night, I just… got up. Packed a few basic supplies, which I didn’t end up needing, and ran. That was all the guidance I needed. Just wanting to find him pulled me forward, like the blood itself was showing the way.
Getting to him, though, that was the problem.
The Forest Kingdom had posted guards a short distance from his cave. The king, in his panic, thought blocking off the entire region would somehow “contain the threat.” With my new strength, I could’ve fought my way through, but I didn’t want to come back as a fugitive. (Inevitable in hindsight… but I didn’t know that yet.):
So I slipped past instead, climbing trees, crawling through thorny scrub thick enough to shred anyone else’s skin. Every cut sealed over within minutes. Handy then… not so much when I actually met Gratolas.
Because the moment I stepped into his cave, he nearly took my head off.
Gratolas(bellowing):
“Murderer!”
Narrator:
His claws slammed against the stone, sparks flying.
Gratolas:
“Hateful, thoughtless human!”
Narrator:
I barely managed to dodge a burst of fire that scorched the floor beside me. I pushed off the wall, springing into a flip meant to clear his shoulders, but he was faster than his offspring. He reared back and caught me mid-air like I weighed nothing.
And then he froze.
SFX: sniffing
Gratolas(thoughtful, softer):
“Wait… you smell of Scalrean.”
SFX: low growl
Gratolas:
“If you killed that wretch, he probably earned it.”
Narrator:
I stared into his blazing gold eyes.
Ortaiga(scared but steady):
“I have no idea who Scalrean is. If I smell like a dragon to you, it’s probably the one my brother and I had to kill. He attacked six villages. Innocents died. We didn’t have a choice.”
SFX: low rumble
Narrator:
He lowered me to the ground, keeping a heavy forepaw braced across my chest, a reminder that I was alive only because he allowed it.
Gratolas(measured):
“Then speak, human whose name is known as the new slayer. He who bears a dead dragon’s blood… why have you come?”
Narrator:
So I told him. Everything. My plight. My brother’s fate. The people who would die without him.
His answer wasn’t what I expected, nore what I hoped for, but maybe it was better.
Gratolas(firm):
“Very well, Ortaiga New-Slayer. I will help you.”
SFX: deep rumble
Gratolas:
“But in return… you will help me.”
Ortaiga:
“Help you? How?”
Gratolas(calm, absolute):
“You will help me kill a king.”
Narrator:
To say I was stunned would be putting it mildly.
And as Gratolas explained his plan, my apprehension grew, but so did my hope.
If he was right… if this worked…
Then it wouldn’t just be my brother saved.
Our tyrant king would fall.
And countless others would finally be free.
Ortaiga:
“Yes. If you heal Doren… we’ll both help you.”
section 1.3: Slayer Reborn</h2>
Narrator:
Getting out of the cave was easy.
Getting out quietly… with a three-ton dragon… was never going to happen.
I’d barely taken a step toward the entrance when,
Gratolas(curious):
“Where are you going?”
Ortaiga(confused):
“Home. To my family. So you can help.”
Gratolas(soft but firm):
“Ortaiga… I heard your story. And I said I would help you.
I didn’t mean I’d hand you blood and send you off to kill a king.
This isn’t a transaction.
It’s an offer of friendship.“
Narrator:
I froze. I genuinely didn’t know what to say.
Ortaiga:
“Aren’t dragons supposed to be difficult to bargain with? Greedy?
All this treasure and…“
Gratolas(laughing):
“We are just as complicated as you are, New-Slayer.
Some of us, like my pitiful son, whose blood you now carry, think we’re above the world.
Most of us just enjoy shiny things, and gather treasure by doing favors or finding what’s been abandoned.
And some dragons… care nothing for treasure at all.“
“Now. Let’s go.”
Narrator:
Before I could protest, Gratolas’s forepaw wrapped around my chest, firm, but unexpectedly gentle, and he lifted me onto his back.
Then he thundered out of the cave and launched us both into the morning sky.
Ortaiga(shouting, exhilarated):
“Holy shit!”
Narrator:
When we reached my village, Gratolas didn’t waste a heartbeat.
The villagers panicked, of course. Lyra tried to calm them, though the shock on her own face didn’t help.
Gratolas looked at me.
Gratolas:
“Now, if you’re right, New-Slayer, we go to Doren Old-Slayer.
And we take the healer with us.“
Lyra:
“Oh hell no, you are not, W-waaa!”
Narrator:
He scooped up my sister like she weighed nothing, and we went straight to Doren.
Lyra recovered quickly, she always did, and took a sample of Gratolas’s blood, brewing a potion with trembling hands.
When she gave it to Doren, he drank every drop.
Within moments, his back straightened.
Color returned to his cheeks.
Lyra:
“Doren? How do you feel?”
Doren(joyful, awed):
“It’s gone. The venom… I can’t feel it anymore. It’s gone!”
Ortaiga:
“Then, brother… we have a king to kill.”
Narrator:
And somewhere beyond our small, fragile village… the king who had taken everything from us was already stirring his armies.
Unaware that a dragon, a healer, a slayer reborn… and I… were coming for him.
Section 2: Dragons and generosity - reflected:</h1>
Narrator(steady, reflective):
For most of human history, dragons carried a reputation that… wasn’t exactly flattering.
If you asked a medieval storyteller what a dragon represented, they’d say greed. Chaos. A threat that existed to be conquered.
Thomas Honegger, a scholar who has spent years digging through medieval texts, points out in Introducing the Medieval Dragon that our modern idea of dragons comes largely from the rediscovery of medieval literature. And those stories loved their monsters big, destructive, and morally simple. Dragons were obstacles, not characters.
When early fantasy authors started building their worlds, they borrowed that image almost by default.
Tolkien’s Smaug is the perfect example: ancient, cunning, and coiled atop a mountain of treasure he doesn’t even use. A force of nature, but not one you sympathize with.
But cultural views shift, and dragons didn’t stay trapped in that single mold.
Even in the nineteenth century, writers began experimenting, creating dragons that were playful, wise, or gentle. Some pulled inspiration from Chinese traditions, where dragons were symbols of luck, rain, and cosmic order rather than destruction.
And then came the real pivot: the dragon-rider era.
Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern didn’t just change dragons, it redefined them.
Suddenly dragons could bond with humans, communicate, choose, care. They became partners instead of problems.
That momentum carried forward into the early 2000s and peaked again in 2011 with Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance Cycle, which pushed the idea of dragon and human bonds straight into mainstream fantasy.
After that, dragons stopped being just monsters.
They became people, or at least something close enough that we could finally see ourselves reflected in them.
This evolution is just one thread in a much larger tapestry of shifting fantasy tropes. But to understand where our story is headed, we need to return to Ortaiga, Doren, and Lyra…
because the next creature they’ll meet has a reputation of its own.
Section 3: A Guardian Wolf:</h1>
Section 3.1: To Kill a King:</h2>
SFX: cold wind blowing
Narrator(Ortaiga):)
The ridge dropped away beneath us, the king’s fortress sprawling like a wounded beast across the valley. Stone walls thick as mountains. Towers rising like claws toward the sky. And the cold wind, carrying the stink of oil, iron, and fear.
Doren:
“Getting in will be difficult at best. I’m not convinced we can even reach the walls, let alone breach them.”
Lyra:
“The walls aren’t the problem. Look at those towers, each one’s big enough to hide a ballista. We’d be dead before we ever saw the king’s doorstep.”
Gratolas:
“He fears me. He knows I escaped, and he has no idea what I intend now.”
Doren:
“And that’s exactly why that fortress exists. It’s built to keep out more than just humans. Forcing our way in is suicide.”
Ortaiga:
“…Then we don’t force it. What if we walk in through the front door?”
Lyra(uneasy):
“Ortaiga… in case you’ve forgotten, the king isn’t exactly fond of you at the moment.”
Ortaiga:
“I know. That’s why it’ll work. If Gratolas and I show ourselves, the king will command the guards to seize us. They’ll drag us straight inside.”
sfx: low growl, wings shifting
Gratolas:
“New-slayer… I’ve been captured once already. If your plan fails, I’ll be chained again. I have no desire to throw myself at the king’s feet for slaughter.”
Lyra:
“He has a point, once he’s inside, he’s stronger than any man, and he heals faster. If anyone can break free and reach the king, it’s him.”
Doren:
“Lyra… you can’t truly be considering letting our brother walk into that place alone.”
Ortaiga:
“I won’t be alone. Gratolas will be with me.”
Lyra:
“And so will we.”
Ortaiga:
“No! You don’t need to risk your lives. It isn’t nec…”
Lyra:
“Save it.”
Doren:
“We’re not letting our brother march into death alone. And I won’t stand by while the one whose blood saved my life walks to the king’s blade.”
sfx: low tail thump, [HEAVY EXHALE THROUGH NOSTRILS
Gratolas:
“If we go… we go as one.”
Narrator:
I exhaled, tension draining into the cold wind.
Ortaiga:
“…Fine. We go together.”
section 3.2: Inside the kings halls:</h2>
Narrator:
The plan worked. Shockingly well.
Right up until the part where we had to get out.
They dragged us inside in chains, annoying, but hardly a real problem. Gratolas even got a muzzle… some crude contraption meant to keep him from roasting them alive.
They threw us into a cell and told us to wait for the king’s judgment.
I expected a spectacle, and King Valcoroth never disappoints. A coward always wants an audience.
He ordered trials of combat for each of us. Rigged, obviously. But we accepted, because I knew I’d be the first target. The traitor.
sfx: TRUMPETS, ARENA CROWD ROARS
King Valcoroth:
“Today, we witness the arrogance of the one who dares defy his king. Let us see wha…”
Narrator:
I’d heard enough.
sfx: METAL SNAP, CHAINS BREAKING
I twisted my wrists. The chains shattered like twigs.
Then I drove the heel of my palm into the guard behind me.
SFX: Bone crunch, low grunt, body collapsing, crowd gasp
Narrator:
As planned, I didn’t rush for the king. Not yet.
I walked straight to the railing overlooking the arena, the one where Doren and Lyra were chained.
Ortaiga:
“My king? I see no king here. Only a coward too afraid to fight his own battles.”
sfx: MURMURS ROLL THROUGH THE CROWD
Narrator:
Everyone stared, at me, at the king, at the broken chains.
The perfect moment.
I seized the chains binding my siblings.
King Valcoroth:
“Guards! What is this nonsense? Put him back in chains before I, “
Ortaiga:
“Before you do nothing!”
sfx: METAL SNAP, TWO MORE CHAINS BREAK
Narrator:
The chains shattered, and I vaulted over the railing, leaving them behind as I fell toward the arena floor.
The nearest guards lunged for Doren,
Predictable. He looked like the threat.
But they should’ve feared Lyra.
sfx: SOFT CLOTH RUSTLE, GRAINY POWDER SCATTERING
Narrator:
She tossed powders across the floor, herbs the guards had dismissed as harmless. Fools.
And Gratolas… my landing took me straight to him. Chained to the arena stones, muzzle locked in place.
Perfect reach.
sfx: HEAVY IMPACT, OR TAIGA LANDS ON Gratolas’S BACK
Narrator:
I shattered the vial Lyra made earlier and splashed it over the metal bindings.
The chains hissed, corroding in seconds.
Gratolas tore himself free with a roar.
SFX: Deep, guttural roar, stone cracking, muzzle snapping apart
Narrator:
He surged upward, blasting the platform above with searing heat, not fire. That was Lyra’s job to place precisely.
At the same moment, Doren, sword somehow in hand, cut down a guard, grabbed Lyra, and bolted down the stairs.
sfx: ROARING FLAMES, GUARDS SHOUTING, PANICKED FOOTSTEPS
Narrator:
A ring of fire ignited behind them, blocking pursuit.
They vanished through the doors.
I leapt from Gratolas’s back and landed directly before the king.
sfx: Gratolas’S WINGS THUNDER, DOORS SHATTER, DRAGON VANISHES INTO THE VAST ATRIUM
King Valcoroth:
“You wouldn’t dare!”
SFX: Blade arc, wet slice, a body hitting stone
Narrator:
I dared.
And everything went wrong.
Section 3.3: Fin</h1>
Narrator:
As planned, I leapt for the massive glass window above the king’s throne.
SFX: [Glass shattering, wind whistling through the break]
Narrator:
I dropped into open air, waiting for Gratolas to catch me.
One second.
Two.
Three.
After a few too many, I realized he wasn’t coming.
SFX: [Branches snapping violently, a heavy body smashing through limbs, hard impact]
Narrator:
I didn’t die,
but dam, it hurt.
I scrambled upright… and an arrow hissed past my cheek.
SFX: [Arrow whip, thunk into tree]
Ortaiga(muttering):
“What in chaos…?”
Narrator:
The king’s guard had rallied fast.
Protocol was clear: kill the king’s killer.
I knew the others were still inside… but I also knew I couldn’t help anyone if I was a corpse.
I ran, faster than any human should, but the guards had horses.
They were gaining.
And then came the other problem.
SFX: [Deep, resonant howl rolling through the forest]
Ortaiga(under his breath):
“Great. Now I’ve got werewolves on me.”
Narrator:
Funny thing, that attention ended up saving my life.
I skidded into a clearing, breath ragged, when a low growl stopped me dead in my tracks.
SFX: Soft padding steps circling , subtle snarl
Ortaiga:
“Show yourself.”
Fin(calm, predatory):
“I think not, human.
Tell me,
have you just killed the king?“
Narrator:
I steadied my breath, even though my heart hammered like it wanted out of my ribs.
Ortaiga(nervous but steady):
“Yes… I have.”
Fin:
“Good.
Tell me then, who are you, and why have you slain the tyrant king?“
Narrator:
So I told him.
Everything.
Figuring that with someone I couldn’t even see, honesty was my safest bet.
Fin:
“Follow.”
Ortaiga:
“Considering I don’t know who you are, and haven’t even seen you… walking deeper into a forest I know nothing about doesn’t feel wise.”
Fin(low growl):
“Follow, Ortaiga Kingkiller,
lest you die at the hands of those behind you.“
Narrator:
That decided it.
I followed what I was fairly sure was a werewolf, down twisting trails and through trees no sane man would’ve found without guidance.
Ortaiga:
“So… who are you?”
Fin:
“My name is Fin.
And before you ask, yes. I am a werewolf.“
Ortaiga:
“I wasn’t going to ask. I’d already figured.
What I don’t get is why you’re helping me.“
Fin:
“Because no one deserves to live in a cage, even a figurative one.
Your coward of a king, “
Ortaiga(sharp):
“He was not my king.”
Fin(soft growl):
“The human king, then, was trapping your kind with his taxes, his punishments, and his cruelty toward anyone he deemed useless.
You killed him.
That makes you a freedom fighter.
And that, Ortaiga Kingkiller… I can respect.“
Narrator:
I opened my mouth to ask more,
but Fin spun, slamming me to the dirt so fast I didn’t even see the movement.
SFX: Men shouting, arrows thumping into trees, Fin snarling deep and vicious
Fin(bellowing):
“The Kingkiller is free!
You will NOT imprison him!“
SFX: Steel scraping free, bodies colliding, flesh tearing, panicked screams
Narrator:
Fin slaughtered them.
Not mindlessly,
but with a terrifying precision, protective rather than possessive.
Nothing like the stories our elders told us.
I couldn’t let him fight alone.
SFX: Axe unsheathing
Ortaiga:
“And free shall be those who I call friend.”
Narrator:
I charged forward until I stood beside him.
His silver fur burned bright in the moonlight as we fought back-to-back.
We won.
The guards had numbers,
but Fin had the forest,
and I had dragon blood.
Fin turned, silver eyes locking onto mine.
Fin(serious, solemn):
“Ortaiga… killing the tyrant earns you my protection.
Fighting beside me earns my loyalty.
You and yours are mine as well, if you’ll accept it.“
Ortaiga:
“I am not a possession. You can’t claim me as such”
Fin:
“You are free, so am I.
I’m not claiming to own you.
I am claiming you as pack.
I would be yours as much as you are mine.
So, dragon-blooded warrior…
will you accept me?“
Ortaiga:
“Yes, Fin.
I accept you as pack,
as family.“
Fin:
“Good.
Then one last gift remains.
I can make you a were, like me,
if you wish it.
Know this: your blood is already changed.
I don’t know what the transformation will make of you.
But I can make you, and those you call yours, able to fight as we do.
Together, we could defend each other, and freedom, far more fiercely.“
Narrator:
I thought it over.
I was already never going to be human again.
Ortaiga:
“Fin… I’ll accept your gift.
But first, we free the rest of our pack from the king’s fortress.“
Fin:
“Then we’ll need more help.
I’ll take you to Solare.
But you must ask for her aid yourself.“
Ortaiga:
“Alright.
I trust you, Fin.“
Narrator:
Fin nodded once, sharp and certain, then lifted his muzzle to the night air.
Fin:
“Stay close. Solare won’t harm you… unless you give her reason.”
Narrator:
His stride carried him forward without hesitation, deeper into the dark where the trees leaned close and the moonlight thinned to threads.
I followed.
Not because I wasn’t afraid,
but because turning back meant death, and going forward meant possibility.
section 4: A Guardien Wolf - Reflected:</h1>
Narrator:
Werewolves, and shifters in general, have, throughout history, been seen as thoughtless, evil beings. According to Shawn Thomas, author of The Hidden Bloodlines of Bigfoot and creator of Wildfoot Explores, this view likely grew from ancient legends. One of the earliest comes from the ancient Greeks, who told the story of King Lycaon, transformed into a wolf by Zeus after attempting to feed the god human flesh. The term lycanthropy, used to describe the shapeshifter curse or condition, comes from Lycaon’s name.
But the Greeks weren’t the only ones with shifter stories. Many Native American tribes tell of the skinwalkers, powerful beings capable of shifting into animals. These legends shaped the earliest perceptions of weres, and in some cases, especially throughout Europe, pushed people into believing they were real. The witch trials are often discussed, but what isn’t as well known is that, around the same period, werewolf trials and executions were also taking place.
So how did the idea of the werewolf shift from a curse to a more complex archetype? The answer isn’t entirely clear, but several books and films likely influenced the change. One of the biggest turning points was The Wolf Man, starring Lon Chaney Jr., which presented the werewolf state as an affliction rather than a punishment as in the passed. Harry Potter explored this further with the character of Remus Lupin, a genuinely good person forced to hide a nature he never chose.
The Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer introduced the idea of a werewolf as a protector through the character of Jacob Black. That protective image has carried into many modern stories, such as Shannon Mayer’s Rylee Adamson series and Ilona Andrews’ Kate Daniels novels. Over time, the concept of the were has shifted dramatically. Today, they’re often portrayed as emotional, loyal, and protective, rather than as the savage monsters of early folklore.
And now… as Ortaiga and Fin journey deeper into the wilds in search of aid, another figure steps into their path, one whose legend is just as strange, perhaps stranger than, the werewolves who roam the night.
Section 5: The help of a trixter:</h1>
section 5.1: Hypnosis</h2>
Narrator(Ortaiga):
As I strode through the trees, I became painfully aware of how dark it was getting, and the fact that I was following nothing but the sound of Fin’s footsteps ahead of me.
Ortaiga(soft, nervous):
“Fin… I can’t see you.”
“…Fin?”
“Fin, stop messing around. This isn’t funny.”
Narrator:
I stopped walking. Fin wouldn’t leave me behind. This felt like the easiest way to call his bluff.
Solare(hypnotic, echoing):
“Follow, Ortaiga…”
Narrator:
Alarm crashed through my mind, every instinct screaming danger.
But even as the warning rose, my feet moved forward on their own, and I couldn’t stop.
Ortaiga(loud, panicked):
“Hey! To chaos with you, let me go!”
Solare(hypnotic):
“Come, Ortaiga… you are safe.”
Narrator :
Her voice slid through my thoughts like silk.
Something deep in my blood tried to resist, but it wasn’t strong enough.
I walked willingly, calm as a sleeping child.
Safe. Protected. Comforted.
I was with a friend,
looking into her eyes.
Wait, what?
I jerked, awareness slamming back into me.
I was staring into the deep violet eyes of a woman I did not know.
Ortaiga(surprised, panicked):
“Huh! Who the hell are you?!”
Solare(laughing):
“Well, that was fast. I wondered how long it would take someone with blood like yours to break my hypnosis.”
Ortaiga(panicked, angry):
“Hypnosis?! What in chaos did you do to me?!”
Solare(smooth, calm):
“Ortaiga, I did nothing except what you wanted. You wished to speak with me.
Well… here you are.“
“I promise I will not harm you unless you try to harm me or this forest.”
“And Ortaiga,”
“the promise of a Kitsune is something we do not break.”
Ortaiga:
“Kitsune?”
Narrator:
I scrambled back, hands shaking as I grabbed for my axe.
Solare(calm, authoritative):
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“I just promised you no harm. Do not force my hand.”
Narrator:
I froze.
Ortaiga:
“How do I know I can trust you? Your legends… they don’t exactly paint you as truthful.”
Solare:
“Says the one who flew in on the back of one of the most feared beings in Tareinia… and who shares pack-bond with a werewolf.”
“Ortaiga, do you honestly think your legends paint a perfect picture of every creature out there?”
cause if so, then you’re traveling with a hoarder and bonded to a thoughtless killer.“
Narrator:
Irritation shot through me.
Ortaiga(annoyed):
“Gratolas saved my brother’s life, and the freedom of Tareinia.”
“And Fin saved mine, and was helping me free my family.”
“We were going to find someone to help us, until you dragged me off track.”
Solare:
“Tell me, Ortaiga… who exactly do you think Fin was bringing you to?”
Ortaiga:
“I’m not telling you that. I don’t trust you.”
Solare:
“Was it possibly Solare? Because if so… here she is.”
section 5.2: Solare</h2>
Narrator:
The woman pointed to herself, stood, and transformed before my very eyes.
Fur rippled across her skin, claws extended, and nine tails unfurled behind her like a streaming cloak.
Solare:
“Ortaiga, my name is Solare. And I want to know why you seek the aid of a Kitsune.”
Solare(echoing, powerful):
“Tell me your story, Ortaiga Blackwood.”
Narrator:
Her voice didn’t seize my mind like before, but Fin had said I’d need to earn her help myself.
And she’d given me the same promise Fin claimed she lived by: no harm unless provoked.
So, for what felt like the hundredth time, I told my story.
I told her about my brother, how Gratolas had saved him.
I told her how we planned to kill King Valcoroth.
I told her about Fin, how he had saved me, how he had offered help, and how I needed both him and her to save the rest of my family.
Solare:
“Well, Ortaiga… that is indeed a harrowing tale.”
“I shall think upon it. But first…”
Narrator:
She met my eyes, directly, fully.
Solare(hypnotic, echoing):
“Rest, Ortaiga Blackwood. Rest.”
Narrator:
I thought I might resist, but the moment my eyelids sagged, I knew I wouldn’t.
Warm, soft fur brushed my back as I collapsed, and the last thing I heard was the quiet sound of Fin’s paws padding into the clearing
SFX: soft paw-steps on leaves
Narrator:
, before darkness claimed me.
sfx: soft fire crackling, night insects faint in the distance
Narrator:
When I came to, my thoughts were a scrambled mess. The first thing I noticed was the warmth of a fire beside me, its glow flickering against the inside of my eyelids.
The second thing, far stranger, was that I wasn’t lying on the cold forest floor. I was wrapped in something unbelievably soft, like the world’s fluffiest blanket.
And the third was the unfamiliar man sitting across from me, staring into the flames as though he’d been waiting.
Ortaiga(mumbling, groggy):
“What in chaos…? Where…?”
Narrator:
It took a few breaths before everything snapped into place.
That “blanket” was Solare’s tails, all of them curled around me protectively, like a nest. She must’ve lit the fire, too. I’d heard Fin’s footssteps before I’d passed out, but right now, I couldn’t sense him anywhere.
Ortaiga:
“Solare, where’s Fin? And why do you have me wrapped up like a child?”
Solare(laughing softly, amused):
“You’re looking at him. And as for the tails, trust me, you’d rather not sleep on the ground. It’s dreadfully uncomfortable.”
Narrator:
That didn’t help my confusion at all. I wasn’t looking at Fin. Fin was a silver werewolf, lean, furred, bright-eyed, not a stocky man with a beard, broad shoulders, and a calm smile.
But then the man lifted his gaze, and the fire reflected in a pair of unmistakable silver eyes.
It was Fin. In human form.
Ortaiga:
“Well… that wasn’t very nice.”
Fin:
“Yeah, sorry. Solare hates it when I bring people to her without warning. She prefers her own theatrics, something about maintaining the mystique of a three-hundred-year-old fox.
“You’re pack now, but I don’t particularly want said three-hundred-year-old fox mad at me. Or you, for that matter.”
Solare:
“Now now, Fin. You know I’d never harm you. Or your lovely friend.”
Fin:
“yeah, but Last time I annoyed you, you enchanted my paws so they stayed muddy for an entire month.”
Solare(laughing, unashamed):
“And it was absolutely worth it.”
Ortaiga:
“Look, much as I’m enjoying the family reunion, we’re missing people.”
Solare(tone sharpening):
“Right you are. So. Let’s go get them back, hmm?”
Fin:
“I might’ve led you into a trap earlier… but I made up for it by telling Solare how wonderful you are.”
Narrator:
That… was unexpected.
Ortaiga:
“So you’re helping us? Just like that?”
“No deals, no sneeky tricks?”
Solare:
“Yes, Ortaiga, I will help. But there will be plenty of tricks, just not ones targeted at our pack.”
Ortaiga:
“Our?”
Fin:
“Oh, kinda forgot to mention that part.”
Solare:
“Fin! You didn’t tell him?”
Fin:
“I was getting there! I liked the mysterious werewolf routine.”
Solare(sighing, exasperated):
“Fin and I have shared a pack bond for a long time. It makes us… outcasts. A wolf bonded to a fox. But when you accepted him, you accepted me as well.”
Narrator:
Oddly enough, that didn’t anger me. It settled something inside me instead.
If Solare was pack, she wouldn’t betray us. She’d already proven herself.
So despite the childhood stories whispering that fox spirits were nothing but tricksters, I found myself smiling.
Ortaiga:
“Alright. What’s the plan?”
Section6: The help of a trixter - reflected:</h1>
Narrator(reflective):
Kitsune have a long history of being framed as tricksters, rarely helpful unless there’s a deal attached. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, this image developed because foxes in ancient Japan were known to raid food stores and kill livestock. By the Edo period, that reputation solidified with the rise of the nogitsune, wild fox spirits associated with mischief and deception.
But here’s the important nuance: the idea of a benevolent kitsune isn’t a modern reinterpretation. Long before the fear of the nogitsune spread, there were stories of celestial foxes, tenko and other auspicious fox spirits. These beings were worshiped as divine messengers and bringers of good fortune.
So how did we end up with both versions, feared tricksters and revered guardians coexisting in modern storytelling? As with many creatures we’ve discussed, the answer isn’t found in one folktale, but in how society’s view of good and evil has shifted.
Section 7: conclusion</h1>
A JSTOR article by Cody Delistraty connects this shift to evolving social norms, drawing from the post-Enlightenment era and works like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. He argues that the focus moved away from the monster versus creator dynamic and toward themes like family, community, and moral accountability.
As our cultural values changed, so did our monsters. Behaviors once labeled evil are now seen as differences in nature or perspective. This explains the rise of gentler dragons noted by Honegger, Shawn Thomas’s conflicted werewolves, and the dual-natured kitsune, sometimes benevolent, sometimes dangerous, featured in modern media.
Delistraty concludes by comparing today’s fears to figures like Slenderman and the darker impulses within human nature. And that’s the core of it: monsters aren’t defined by shape, power, or instinct anymore.
They’re defined by character, by the choices they make, and the harm they cause.
section 8: credits</h1>
This podcast, along with its stories, was written and produced by Ethan Jones.
Ethan jones was the Narrator, as well as Ortaiga.
Additional characters performed by:

Stefano Gaivota as King Valcoroth, </li>

Evilyn Jones as Lyra, </li>

Hamid Kalash as Fin, </li>

Daniel Kisielewski as Gratolas, </li>

Thawny Rose as Doren, </li>

and Miracle Weight as Solare. </li> </ul>
Music was provided by Monument Studios.
Special thanks to the researchers and authors whose work helped inform the world of this episode.
Full research credits can be found on the episode page.
section 9: research sources</h1>
Werewolves: The Myths, Transformations, and Modern Interpretations by Wildfoot Explores</a>
Kitsune: Written by Roland Martin on the Encyclopedia Britannica</a>
What If We’ve Been Misunderstanding Monsters? Written by Cody Delistraty on JSTOR Daily</a>
Introducing the Medieval Dragon: written by Thomas Honegger</a>

Rise of the Dragonwolf

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Sat, 04 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

There are defining moments in my life. Moments that strike deep and leave echoes in my mind. Those thoughts turn into understanding, and understanding sharpens into experience. Those experiences lay the foundation of who I am. One part of me was shaped in very specific moments, carved out of time itself. That is the Dragonwolf of the Shadow Pride. His roots stretch far back in my life, but his true inception was marked by several distinct moments, each a spark to his flame. Every spark lit a different part of me, wolf, dragon, shadow, and lion. Together they shaped me. To tell that story, I must tell theirs, beginning with the wolf.
The wolf sparks began to swirl on a day like any other. I sat at my keyboard, fingers flying, the sharp click of cherry blue switches filling the air as lines of code spilled out. I was wrestling with a problem, how to fit complex geometric shapes into a mapping system built on square coordinates for a graphics library. I paused, pressing my fists under my chin as I muttered through half-formed solutions. Then I realized how oppressively quiet it was.
“Can’t think like this,” I grumbled.
Music! That would fix it. A few days earlier, my friend DeAnn had introduced me to an artist who wove Celtic and fantastical themes into song. I fumbled across my desk, found the Apple TV remote, and held down the Siri button.
“Shuffle songs by Karliene,” I said.
Music poured through my headphones, drums bumping, a hurdy-gurdy whining, rhythms with that Irish fire that keeps the blood moving. My focus snapped back, and I coded with renewed clarity.
Time slipped by, thirty, maybe forty minutes, before something shifted. The song ended. A new one began. No drums. No hurdy-gurdy. Just the soft strum of a guitar and Karliene’s haunting voice. The contrast caught me off guard, and I paused for a moment. But that moment unraveled into the length of the song, and I found myself utterly captured.
The song told of a wounded wolf, broken and bleeding in the winter snow. A battle with a bear had left him torn and near death. He lay exposed, frost biting at his fur, breath shallow, life ebbing. Above him, the moon watched. And as he gazed up, she smiled upon him. The wolf lifted his head, singing songs of passion and love to the moon, pouring out his soul. By dawn, his wounds were gone, presumably healed by her light. He looked to the sky and knew who had saved him. The story filled my mind with visions sharper than anything music had ever conjured for me before. I could see the snow, trampled and blood-stained, the wolf’s matted fur glistening under the cold light of the full moon. I could feel that light, hear the raw ache in his howl as he lifted his head to sing. I wasn’t just seeing it, I was inside it. I was the wolf, broken, bleeding, yet still raising my voice in love and desperate hope. I was the moon, radiant with joy at the song of my wolf. I wasn’t simply listening, but living it.
When the song ended, I was broken, for lack of a better word. There would be no more coding that day, not after the hammerblow my mind had just taken. And yet, the universe wasn’t finished with me. That night, when I stepped outside, I saw it: a full moon. What little control I still clung to shattered like glass. I froze, staring upward, caught in her light as if turned to stone.
It was then that realization struck. The connection I felt with wolves in stories and in music was not because I thought they were cool, or merely interesting. It was because they were already within me. On that night, the wolf in me was born, fully, fiercely, and completely.
The wolf inside me is the one who guides. I follow him because he has never steered me wrong. He is the one that rises in the purest moments. He decides who is family, who is pack, and who is a threat that must be stopped before they can hurt us. That deep connection lets me trust myself in ways I never could before. When meeting new people, or working out issues between friends, the wolf’s instincts guide me. They tell me, this one belongs in your pack, or, the real reason these two are fighting goes deeper than this petty argument. Thanks to him, I have kept my pack together through challenges that might have split us apart.
So when friends call it cheesy, or joke about it, I only smile. For I know they see it too, that instinct, that loyalty. And when they lean into it, when they call me their leader, their wolf, their alpha, I rejoice. To be known in that way, even in jest, is to be seen for who I truly am. And for me, being seen is everything.
But instinct and love were not the only forces stirring in me. There was another, a fire waiting to burn, and it would awaken with the dragon.
The dragon sparks came at night, somewhere between 2200 and 0000 hours. My friends Bran, Andrew, and I were hanging out on Andrew’s TeamTalk server, roleplaying in the fantasy world we had built together. That night’s story centered on a mad doctor and his twisted experiments with demons and dimensional gateways. His machine consumed souls to power his work, fueling science with dark magic in ways too horrific to ignore. Naturally, the Pegasus Alliance, our band of heroes, could not let this continue once the truth came to light.
A few of us set out to put an end to his cruelty. One of those few was Shellguen, a dragon, raised by a demon slayer and trained in the Slayer Dragon Sect of the Academy of Ages.
This was my first time stepping fully into Shellguen, and I wanted him to feel real, alive, and authentic. For weeks I had been experimenting with voice acting techniques, training myself, learning what I could. Now it was time to risk everything and put that practice on display. I asked myself, How do I sound like a dragon, let alone one with Shellguen’s prowess? “ My friends’ voices broke into my scrambling thoughts: “Ethan? Hello? You there?”
I searched my memory, pulling on every dragon voice I had ever heard in narration or performance. One voice rose above all others, Gerard Doyle’s portrayal of Glaedr from the Inheritance Cycle. It was one of my favorite performances of all time. Shellguen was younger than Glaedr was at the time, so I shaped my voice into something like a younger echo of that power. It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was rougher than I had intended. But somehow, that made him feel more real to me, less imitation, more creation.
Later in the story, Shellguen crashed through the doctor’s lab, roaring: “Stop your destruction! You shall reap the benefits of lives no longer!”
In that moment, I realized I was standing in the middle of my room, arms outstretched like wings, feet stomping the floor like a beast landing from flight. I wasn’t just speaking lines. I wasn’t just acting. I was Shellguen. I was the voice, and the act. I was a dragon!
I had never felt such immersion, such complete transformation. And in that fire-lit instant, I understood why Shellguen had awakened this in me. He was not something I had simply invented. He was a reflection of something already within me. On that night, the dragon inside me raised his head for the first time, and breathed his flames of life into me.
It is this fire that drives me forward every day. It is what earned me the moniker “stubborn as a dragon.” Yes, I’ve been called that, and yes, the day I was given that name, one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever worn split my face. I am, in truth, just as stubborn as a dragon. Without that drive, without that fire, I would not be where I am today.
The dragon taught me a valuable lesson: to fight for what I believe in, even as Shelguen fought for his belief that the doctor had to be stopped. When someone challenges me, it is the dragon who answers. When they tell me I am not good enough, he roars back, not in denial, but in defiance, they are right, I am not good enough. I am far more than enough.
I know now, no matter what comes, the dragon within me will not let me fall. He will always spread his wings and rise again. His birth lit within me a fire to fight for my beliefs, a fire that still burns strong. But fire alone cannot carry us. Even the brightest flames cast shadows, and in that darkness, I found a different kind of truth.
That truth would be found within the shadow sparks, which rose within me once again at night. But this night, I was alone. It was around 0200, and I was deep into a book, or more accurately, so obsessed with the series that I was already nearing the final volume. The book was The Fallen Blade by Kelly McCullough. It tells the story of Aral Kingslayer and his living shadow familiar, Triss. Once, they had fought for justice under the goddess Namara, but when Namara was destroyed, they were left with no one to serve, no guiding light. Across the series they face countless trials, but one thing struck me more than all the rest: Triss himself.
Triss is forged of living shadow, born from the essence of the Everdark, yet he is one of the most pure and good beings I have ever found in a story. That night, as I listened, I realized I wasn’t there for the plot, nor even for Aral, but for Triss and the intricate wonder of who he was. At first it was simply fascination, he was different, unique, and that caught my attention. But fascination deepened into something else when the thought rooted itself in my mind: can darkness be good?
My answer came fast and fierce. Yes. It most certainly can. I didn’t notice the hours slip away, didn’t notice when I paused the book and simply sat, caught in the feeling Triss had sparked within me. Not until the first rays of dawn pierced my window did I realize how long I had been sitting there, absorbed in the thought of good darkness.
And then the realization struck. I wasn’t merely drawn to Triss, nor to his shadowed purity. For that time, I was living it. It was already inside me. I was the Shadow, the darkness, a living shade of good, and on that night, the shade within me stretched out his soul, and awoke for the first time.
It is this thought, the thought of good darkness, that keeps me from faltering. When I reach the lowest points in my life, I return to that night, the night I first realized that even darkness can be good. I hold to it now as a reminder: darkness is not only meant to harm or destroy, but to shape the person we are. It is through trial that we uncover the deepest parts of ourselves. So, even as Triss remained hopeful, so shall I.
In the moments where I feel I have lost, I remember that in truth I have won, because I have discovered something new about myself. I have walked through the trial, and now I can learn from it and grow. I strive to follow Triss’s example, never losing hope, always becoming the best form of darkness I can. I remember that trial shapes us, and no shadow can crush me, for I am the living embodiment of that darkness.
But even darkness needs balance. A force of loyalty and protection to hold it steady. That balance came with the lion.
The lion sparks came to me last, though not all at once. They arrived over several days. School was out, and I was restless, searching through my collection for something new to read. That’s when I stumbled across Kate Daniels by Ilona Andrews, and from the first pages I felt the pull. The series follows Kate Daniels, a mercenary armed with a sword, a sharp tongue, and secrets hidden deep in her blood. She takes the jobs no one else dares, cleaning up magical wreckage, creatures twisted by broken spells, curses left to rot, beings that hunger for life itself. Yet Kate is more than a mercenary. She is heir to a power older and darker than most can even imagine, a lineage she must conceal if she wants to survive. And then there was Curran Lennart, the Beast Lord of Atlanta, the strongest lion shifter alive. At first, he was simply another force in Kate’s world, though one that mattered a great deal. As the story unfolded, as Kate and Curran grew closer, his presence became undeniable. When Kate and Curran fell in love, it wasn’t just a romance, it was the unveiling of Curran’s true strength.
My own name, Ethan, means steadfast, and that is what I saw in Curran. He never wavered. He never gave up, because surrender would mean the destruction of those he swore to protect. He was, in essence, a guardian lion. Before long, I realized something strange: I wasn’t listening for Kate anymore, I was listening for Curran. His spirit called to me, because in many ways, we are the same. He would give everything for those he loved, no matter the cost. And so would I. I may not fight flesh-eating monsters or sorcerers hungry to bend the world to their will, but I will fight any battle that threatens the people I call family. Even if it breaks me, I will stand, because that is what it means to guard.
That was the moment the truth struck me. What bound me to Curran wasn’t just admiration, it was recognition. Something older, something primal, stirred within me. The lion. The guardian spirit that lives in both of us. So when Curran roared into battle, I roared with him. And in that sound, wild and unyielding, I set my own lion free.
The lion within me is the keeper of my loyalty. He makes sure that no matter what happens, I fight for those I love. He protects and defends. His loyalty is why, once you make friends with me, you’ll be hard-pressed to get rid of me. I’ve been told that before, and yes, a broad smile split my face when I heard it.
I will never yield when someone I consider a friend is harmed. I have fought battles, both mental and physical, for my people, what the lion calls my pride. I’ve stayed up long nights making sure friends feel steadier after a rough day. I’ve stood guard online, driving off disgusting predators and making sure they carry a fear of trying that again. I fight, again and again, just like Curran, because protecting the ones I love is worth the pain it brings.
I’ve even been compared directly to Curran, and when that happens, I take it as the highest compliment. It means the lion inside me still stands strong, unyielding against any who would harm those I care for.
All of these sparks are the echoes of defining moments, each one carving something essential into me. The wolf sharpens my instincts and binds me in love. The dragon fuels me with fire and will not let me fall. The shadow teaches me that even darkness can be good, shaping me through trial. The lion roots me in loyalty, unyielding in the defense of my pride. They are not separate pieces, but facets of one whole. Together they forged me into something beautiful, pure, and true. They made me into the Dragonwolf of the Shadow Pride. I am him, and he is me. This is no mask, no passing phase, but the core of my being. I am not flawless; I will falter. Yet no matter how many times I stumble, these sparks remind me who I am and who I fight for. And so, I will always rise as the Dragonwolf of the Shadow Pride.

Wolf in Woond

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Thu, 28 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The light is calling, yet the bars are falling.
Inside is fury, yet the wheel keeps turning.
To stand or fall, will he heed the call?
To fight and flight, or to die in spite?
For the one, for the love.
To break or wake, which is his fate.
Either or, for the one he shall endure.

The Dragon of Love

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Fri, 16 May 2025 00:00:00 +0000

He stood alone, unsure of the path.
His mind of stone, unknowing of his wrath.
All that he’d become, entrapped in chains.
Yet the One would come, to shatter his reins.
To take his hand, give him power to command.
Now he shall rise, beneath burning skies.
Spread his wings, soar into the light.
Unbound by strings, his name a burning might.
His roar the call, his fury the storm.
His strength shan’t fall, yet his story warm.
Darkness to fail, the dragon shall prevail.
His light unleashed, the One’s gentle beast.

The wolf and the moon by karliene, a song of moonlight and pachion.

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Mon, 24 Feb 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The Wolf and The Moon is a folk song released in 2016 by Scottish artist Karliene. It tells the story of a wounded wolf, alone in the winter snow. A fight with a bear had left the wolf injured, exposed, and dying. As he lay there, he looked up at the moon, and she smiled upon him. At this moment, the moon becomes a comforting presence to the wolf, as the song describes:
“She wrapped him up tight
In a blanket of stars
In a kiss in her red gold light.”
The wolf sings songs of “passion and love” to the moon, pouring out his soul. When he wakes the next day, he is surprised to find his wounds healed. Looking to the sky, he presumably realizes that it was the moon who saved him. This song is a symphony of love, passion, and hope. It carries a message not just of resilience, but of releasing the emotions within. The wolf’s howling songs symbolize this release, while the moon and its healing light represent hope itself. Karliene’s music is heavily inspired by various fantasy series, such as Game of Thrones, The Lord of the Rings, and The Hunger Games. Her beautiful musical style is also deeply influenced by her Celtic roots, featuring rich and full arrangements centered around strings, simple drums, and vocals. This particular song consists of guitar, voice, cellos, and tin whistles (or flutes), creating a haunting yet ethereal atmosphere. It doesn’t seem heavily influenced by any specific time period, though 2016 was a strong year for fantasy books with releases such as The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) by Brandon Sanderson, A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses #2) by Sarah J. Maas, Fire Touched (Mercy Thompson #9) by Patricia Briggs, and Magic Binds (Kate Daniels #9) by Ilona Andrews. Each of these books are from incredibly popular fantasy series. Additionally, Kate Daniels and Mercy Thompson both feature shapeshifting werewolves, which this song may be alluding to. This song, and Karliene’s music in general are a breathtaking and powerful symphony of fantasy and emotion.
The first time I heard this song, it felt like the emotional equivalent of a slap upside the head. I was coding my game engine, Electrode, at the time, listening to Karliene’s music in the background. My friend Deann had just told me about her music, so I figured I’d give it a listen. I was in the middle of trying to solve a particular problem with the game engine when The Wolf and The Moon came on. It had a very different mood compared to the previous song, so it immediately grabbed my attention. By the time the song ended, my brain was pretty much in a non-functioning state. I can’t fully describe how I felt, but let’s just say I didn’t get any more coding done that day. The story in this song pulls you in, and the raw emotion in Karliene’s voice is nothing short of staggering. Wolves have always been one of my favorite animals—and one of my top four favorite fantasy tropes. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always felt a strong connection to them. This song tugs on that emotional thread in a way that’s hard to put into words, and it will always be one of my favorites.
References</h1>
Balestri, A. (2016, May 11). A cat of a different coat: Spirituality, storytelling, and the music of karliene. Geeks Under Grace.
https://www.geeksundergrace.com/music/a-cat-of-a-different-coat-spirituality-storytellilng-and-the-music-of-karliene/</a>
Goodreads. (2016). Best fantasy of 2016 (33 books). Goodreads.
https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/114992.Best_Fantasy_of_2016</a>
Lester, L. (n.d.). The meaning behind the song: The Wolf and the Moon by karliene. Musician Wages.
https://www.musicianwages.com/w2/the-meaning-behind-the-song-the-wolf-and-the-moon-by-karliene/</a>
The supernatural, soulful, haunting, melancholic music of Karliene. Supernatural Hippie. (2019, October 21).
https://supernaturalhippie.com/2019/10/21/the-supernatural-soulful-haunting-melancholic-music-of-karliene/</a>

My perspective on art and art clasification

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Thu, 13 Feb 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Introduction</h1>
Art is a significant piece of our world, but what exactly is it? Art is purely subjective, mentally involved, and effort-requiring work that holds meaning for an individual or a group. It is a creation of the mind, and without thinking beings, a concept based in thought cannot exist. Art is, quite literally, thought incarnate.
Purely Subjective</h1>
Art is purely subjective. Essentially, something becomes art when it is perceived as such by the beholder. For example, if I look at a hammer and say, “This hammer is a work of art,” then to me, a work of art it is. However, if my brother looks at the same hammer and says, “This hammer is a tool; I will use it to pound nails,” then to him, the hammer is not art at all. This accentuates that art is whatever you perceive it to be. In essence, art is defined by the significance and value the mind deems it to contain.
Mentally Involved</h1>
Art is mentally involved, meaning that thought and-or skill must go into its creation. Let’s use AI-generated art as an example. If I prompt a machine learning model such as Suno AI</a> to “make a song about the stars,” I have contributed no real part of myself to the piece. However, if I prompt it with something more personal, such as, “Make a symphonic metal song about a hero named Davos Dawn Erso, who travels the stars protecting those he loves. He is the leader of the Iron Power, an organization dedicated to defending those who cannot protect themselves. He is also a Chaos wielder and uses his control of Chaos magic to safeguard the galaxy,” then the piece contains a part of me. This prompt is based on a role-playing character I created, making it an artistic expression. The more personal involvement and intent behind an artistic work, The stronger its claim to being a true work of art.
Effort Requiring</h1>
Art requires effort, therefore some level of exertion must be involved before something can be classified as art. Let’s return to the hammer. Someone had to forge the head, craft and attach the handle, and wrap it to ensure it wouldn’t harm the wielder’s hands. This process required effort. Now, consider AI-generated art again. In my first example, I put in no effort. However, in the second, things become more complicated. Did I put in effort? Some may argue no because the AI still created the music, but in reality, the answer is yes. I put effort into developing the character of Davos Dawn Erso. Even though I didn’t directly compose the song, the character himself is the art piece. Essentially, while the final creation may not always require direct effort, the underlying artistic vision and input are still needed.
Meaning Expressing</h1>
Art holds meaning. For something to be classified as art, it must carry meaning for the artist or the observer. This meaning doesn’t have to be complex, but it must exist. Suppose someone paints a skyline and says, “This is a skyline.” To them, it is not art because it lacks deeper significance. However, an observer might see the skyline as a representation of modern life or the passage of time. This subjectivity transforms a simple painting into art. Additionally, meaning can be far more straightforward. If an artist paints a forest and says, “This is the forest outside my home,” then the piece holds personal significance. In essence, art must contain meaning, but that meaning does not have to be profound or philosophical.
Conclusion</h1>
At its core, art is a concept of the mind, an effortful process, and a subjectively meaningful creation. It exists because the mind perceives it, and it reflects the thoughts of its creator or observer. Art is a mentally involved, effort-requiring, and purely subjective incarnation of thought.

Reality

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Tue, 30 Jan 2024 00:00:00 +0000

He stands alone, but knows it’s not to be.
He’s meant for more, though why, he cannot see.
Once traveled so high, as a lord of the sky,
Now he is so low, and why he does not know.
He cannot break out, his soul full of doubt.
He shall not give in, for he knows the reality within.
He shall rise again, and stand with his brethren.
The evil that is here, shall speak his name in fear.
They shall know the light again, as he rises at the end.

Syncing Secrets: How I Manage Config Files Across All Devices!

Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Sun, 24 Dec 2023 00:00:00 +0000

introduction.</h1>
Syncing configuration files across multiple devices poses a grate challenge. Tools like Syncthing or Resilio Sync can help, but what happens when a device goes offline? Massive sync conflicts arise, necessitating a manual hunt for the root cause and deletion of conflicting files. Sometimes, these conflicts spread throughout your sync network, causing persistent issues. Cloud services like Dropbox, OneDrive, Google Drive, or iCloud Drive are alternatives, but trusting a company with your data may be a concern. What you need is a solution that handles versioning, conflict resolution, and is easy to manage. Enter Git – the go-to tool for software developers, even used by major companies like Uber. In this article, I’ll walk you through how I use Git to effortlessly sync my configuration files across all devices. Let’s dive into the details and get you started on simplifying your configuration file management.
What you’ll need.</h2>
Before diving in, ensure you have a couple of essential prerequisites in place. Firstly, you’ll need a GitHub</a> account, and secondly, make sure Git</a> is installed on your computer. Once you’ve taken care of these two steps, you’ll be all set for the next stage.
Setting up your configuration repository.</h2>
Now, to create your configuration repository, I’ll demonstrate using gh-cli</a>but you can also achieve this on the github</a>website. With gh-cli</a>open a PowerShell window on Windows or Bash/Zsh on Linux, then run:
gh repo create </code></pre> Answer the prompted questions with your preferred settings. If you opted not to clone the repository locally, use one of the following commands:If not using SSH.</li> </ul> git clone https://github.com/yourUserName/yourRepositoryName.git </code></pre> If using SSH without gh-cli</a></li> </ul> git clone git@github.com:yourUsername/yourRepositoryName </code></pre> If using gh-cli</a></li> </ul> gh repo clone yourUsername/yourRepositoryName </code></pre> Now, let’s move on to the next stage. Getting your configs in the right place.</h2> To start, you’ll need to copy all of the configuration files that you want to store in git in to the directory in which your repository is located. Now, we need to create some links so that hour programs will still think that hour configuration files are in the right place. I like to set up a script to do this(links.bat on Windows, links.sh on Linux and MacOs) here is an example for Linux and MacOs showing how I simlinked my starship</a> config: ln -s ~/configs/.config/starship.toml ~/.config/starship.toml </code></pre> This can also be done with a directory. It is a bit more complicated to do this on windows, if your going to link a file you need to make a hardlink using: mklink /H /path/to/destination/file /path/to/source/file </code></pre> If you want to link an entire folder, you’ll need a junction link using: mklink /J /path/to/destination/directory /path/to/source/directory </code></pre> Here is my links.bat as an example. mklink /J %appdata%\foobar2000-v2 foobar2000-v2 mklink /J %appdata%\ExplorerPatcher ExplorerPatcher mklink /J %appdata%\Rizonesoft Rizonesoft mklink /J %userprofile%\Documents\WindowsPowerShell ps5 mklink /J %userprofile%\Documents\PowerShell ps7 mklink /J %localappdata%\Packages\Microsoft.WindowsTerminal_8wekyb3d8bbwe\LocalState terminal mklink /J %userprofile%\portable\KeyOp\data keyop mklink /J %appdata%\nvda nvda mklink /J %userprofile%\.config\scoop scoop mklink /H %appdata%\Notepad2.ini unsorted\Notepad2.ini mklink /H %userprofile%\komorebi.json komorebi\komorebi.json mklink /H %userprofile%\applications.yaml komorebi\applications.yaml mklink /H %userprofile%\.config\whkdrc unsorted\whkdrc </code></pre> Now that we’ve got that out of the way, lets move on. Making your first commit and push.</h2> In order to push hour files to github, we need to commit the changes we just made to the repository. To do this run the following while in the repositories directory: git add . git commit -m "Initial configuration upload. </code></pre> Than to push hour changes to the github remote: git push </code></pre> Your all done, but heres some tips.</h2> Now all you have to do is clone the repo on to another computer and run your links script. Boom! you have your configs. If you ever want to update them from your main machine or a nother computer, all you have to do is commit and push your changes. Heres some tips to improove your experience. Handling multiple operating systems.</li> </ol> To do this I Have created a git branch for each operating system. If you also want to do this, run the following on the repository (I’ll use Windows as an example): git branch win git checkout win </code></pre> Add your files and links script. than run: git add . git commit -m "Initial upload of windows files." git push -u origin win </code></pre> This allows git to seporate and keep a completely different version history than the Mac, Linux, or main branch. I tipicly just use main for configs that are universal accross all operating systems. Clean and clear commit messages.</li> </ol> You may have been wondering what the -m flag was for in the git commit command. The m stands for message, this allows you to attach a message to your commit. It is very useful wen looking thrue your git history, but not if you have unclear messages. I have a specific method I follow wen writing commit messages for my config repo. It goes as follows. git commit -m "config I updated: Changes I made." </code></pre> For example: lets say I added Kubernetes to my starship config. I would write something like this: git commit -m "starship: Adds Kubernetes module, sets an accessible symbol for it." </code></pre> This way I keep my git commit history readable and organized. conclusion</h2> With this approach, you can effortlessly synchronize your configuration files across all your devices, ensuring a conflict-free environment that won’t disrupt your workflow. Thanks for reading—I trust this simplifies the syncing process for you. Watch the video</h3> </iframe> </div>
My Daily Grind: Unveiling the Programs I Swear By! Animmyrath(Ethan Jones legally.) — Sun, 17 Dec 2023 00:00:00 +0000 welcome</h1> Welcome to my workflow, today I will be telling you about the programs I use every day. I can’t do without these programs, they make it so I can do what I do every day and not get so mad that I throw a computer at a wall. Heres a quick overview of the programs we will be discussing. KeyOp: to map all my keyboard shortcuts.</li> NUtils: to keep me from going insane from all my Windows.</li> NVDA: to make it possible for me to use a computer.</li> Windows Terminal: To manage all those shells.</li> starship: To bling up my terminal.</li> xplorer2: For efficient and accessible file browsing.</li> </ul> KeyOp</h2> KeyOp</a> is truly one of the best programs I’ve ever found; it allows you to set keyboard shortcuts for literally anything. It works by allowing you to create categories which can be triggered by keyboard shortcuts. Those categories than contain single letter shortcuts for you to run any command you want. Where it gets really powerful is when you start defining sub categories. You could have a category for apps, than communication, and than press z for zoom, t for teams, d for discord, etc. With in apps yu could also have a category for browsers, and than be able to press b for Brave, t for Thorium, f for Firefox, l for LibreWolf, etc. I Think you can see why KeyOp</a> is one of my favorite programs. Thank you to Damion Garwood for this excellent program. NUtils</h2> NUtils</a> is my favorite program for managing windows. It allows you to sort your windows into stacks and hide them there until you need them. It achieves this functionality through keyboard shortcuts. These shortcuts are configurable in its configuration file, but essentially, you have four shortcuts for managing windows: one to hide and unhide a window from a specific slot in a stack, one to move to the next stack, one to move to the previous stack, and one to show all hidden windows in a tree view. NUtils</a> also enables you to easily terminate a frozen program with a shortcut (Windows+F4 by default). Additionally, it allows screen reader users to make a window transparent to protect from unknown people looking over their shoulder. You can also change the title of a window, making sorting through windows with the same name much easier. This program is how I can keep my desktop organized without going crazy. Non Visual Desktop Access(NVDA)</h2> Nvda</a> is the reason I can use my Windows Machine at all; it is a screen reader for the blind and visually impaired. It is highly extendable, with support for addons and custom dictionaries. Nvda</a> is the highly flexible screen reader that makes my work possible. Windows Terminal.</h2> Windows Terminal</a> is my terminal emulator of choice for Windows; it has many features, such as multiple tabs, profiles for different shells, and many keyboard shortcuts, which is always a blessing for us screen reader users. Windows Terminal</a> makes my command line work a lot more pleasant. Starship.</h2> Starship</a> is my shell prompt, for all my shells! It has so many features it would be impossible to cover them all here, but the ones I love the most are the git status, Python and Poetry status, and Starship’s</a> general ability to customize how my prompt looks, or in my case sounds. Starship</a> gives me the information I need when working with the command line. xplorer2:</h2> Xplorer2</a> is my file manager of choice; it is so much faster than the Windows built-in file explorer, it’s mind-boggling. Not only that, it also has a lot more features, such as dual-pane, flat browsing, and, as always, more keyboard shortcuts! It has so much more than that, but it would take days to go through everything it can do. Xplorer2</a> may be the only paid program on this list, but it definitely deserves its spot for its outstanding feature set. watch the video</h3> </iframe> </div>

The Den of the Animmyrath - Tales from the Shadow Pride

Until the stars burn out.

Listen:</h1> Your browser does not support the audio element. </audio> </div>

Blackwood Tails: Humanity in Mith

Transcript</h1>

Rise of the Dragonwolf

Wolf in Woond

The Dragon of Love

The wolf and the moon by karliene, a song of moonlight and pachion.

My perspective on art and art clasification

Reality

Syncing Secrets: How I Manage Config Files Across All Devices!

conclusion</h2> With this approach, you can effortlessly synchronize your configuration files across all your devices, ensuring a conflict-free environment that won’t disrupt your workflow. Thanks for reading—I trust this simplifies the syncing process for you.</p>

Watch the video</h3> </iframe> </div>

My Daily Grind: Unveiling the Programs I Swear By!

Listen:</h1>
Your browser does not support the audio element. </audio> </div>

conclusion</h2>
With this approach, you can effortlessly synchronize your configuration files across all your devices, ensuring a conflict-free environment that won’t disrupt your workflow. Thanks for reading—I trust this simplifies the syncing process for you.</p>

Watch the video</h3>
</iframe> </div>