The Predator gets Preyed Upon

The next morning we heard the sound of deep snoring coming from the pen. Tigran, now in a dog form, was sleeping with his jaws clamped on the limp form of a weasel—yes, it was a long, muscular, snake-like brown creature. Its mouth hung open, revealing long, white teeth. When he heard us approaching, Tigran shook the dead creature once again, I suppose in an attempt to show us his kill.
“How could such a small creature be so deadly?” my host asked.
“My dear foolish Forrest,” I began. “Why not?”
“It seems so wrong,” Forrest said. “I always thought that animals killed because they had to eat. This thing killed for sport. It never ate much of anything. It just enjoyed murdering things. People do that, not animals. Besides, weasels are supposed to kill rats. We have so many of them. Why not murder all of them?”
I had to laugh. “Fool! Humans are animals! As animals are savage, so are we. The only thing that changes this is human culture. It teaches us that killing for sport is wrong—not that this stops wanton killing, but at least it keeps the bulk of people in check. Do you not observe how human children are so savage? If they could, they would inflict great harm on their peers. They do quite often. When I was a skinny scrap of a boy I was bullied mercilessly. Day in and day out, children from my village beat me, inflicted upon me cruel verbal abuse, and caused me to live in perpetual fear. Animals are made of the same stuff as we are. Some animals, like some humans, are not vicious. Some, like the worst of our kind, are monstrous.”
Tigran began to crunch on the creature’s head. I pet his soft fur, and he dropped the headless corpse at my feet, perhaps inviting me to eat of the kill. I found it to be rather pungent. It was no doubt a male.
http://www.yaoi-books.com/

The Case of the Heinous Slaughter

I have explained to you before that I am living at the residence of a self-styled farmer by the name of KB Forrest. He owns well over 100 acres of land infested with every manner of varmint. He admits this, yet refuses to find a more habitable location. This morning he went to feed animals, which he keeps for some sort of sadistic pleasure. He has furry rabbits, pigeons with tails like peacocks, and some with feathers sprouting in topknots from their heads. There are strange quail, ducks, chickens, peacocks, pheasants, and all manner of rare creatures that seem to have been bred by a madman.
In any case, when he returned to the house, I was foraging for a morning meal with my fledgling Tigran, who was tearing up a bag he found. I do not know what it contained. I noticed that the man, Forrest, looked dejected and unhappy. Being a good guest, I asked why? He said that although he had fortified the large cages thoroughly, something had magically entered one of them and had killed all of his beloved pigeons. The apparition, as he called it, had done other unspeakable damage. He asked for my help.
I followed him with Tigran loping alongside me. I saw a profusion of colorful feathers strewn about. It made Tigran hungry, but I cautioned him to refrain. A flayed skull of a bird was the first flesh I saw. Next, what was once a graceful white bird lay with its belly torn open and the ribs cleaned of flesh. A mound of bird legs and heads were in a corner, but mostly they had been simply killed and thrown to the side.
The most grotesque sight was the rabbits. They had been white with dark ears and a profusion of fur around the necks. He called them “lion heads.” Three of them had been attacked, but not killed. Two had missing eyes. All had been mauled about the face and were bloodied. I even saw one struggling to breathe.
“Why do you not put them to death so as to stop their suffering?” I asked. But I should have known that squeamish man would refuse, saying that he would try to save them. “Would you like me to kill them, then?” I offered, knowing that he was simply delicate.
“How could the creature have gotten in? There are no holes in the wire,” he asked, avoiding my question. “I have sealed off any means of entry!” he cried.
“I will investigate,” I said, thinking that if any evil were perpetrated in my area, I would not allow it unless it was my own. Sorcerers are quite territorial. I will investigate and tell you my findings.

Psamtik the Scarecrow--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Psamtik sat on the minor throne he had occupied before the death of his father, the Pharaoh. His scrawny shoulders shook with indignation as the priests explained to him for the tenth time that he had to wait for the ceremony before he could ascend the pharaoh’s throne. His face was thin and his nose hawkish. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his lips were so thin that his steward had to paint them to make them more visible.

Matwa watched Ankhare as he looked at the young man in disgust. Matwa could see that Psamtik’s claw-like hand was clutching the arm of his throne and he watched as a blue vein pulsed in the skinny neck under a gold neckband. One time Ankhare had told Matwa that he would never have such a poor specimen even clean pots for his troops, but this scarecrow who seemed to be certain that he was already a god, would be the Pharaoh. Matwa felt a sharp twinge of doubt and he looked away. He was going to have to accept it, but his mind continued to doubt. Could they, the priests, transform this weakling into a god? Didn’t they need better material to work with?

“It is now time, Prince Psamtik,” Matwa began, “for you to come to the room where your father, god of the underworld now...”

“No, no, no!” Psamtik interrupted, “I want to lie down now for my nap! I always do! Just because the old Pharaoh died does not mean that I have to change my schedule.” Psamtik’s eyes were red and his thin lips set in determination.

Matwa looked helplessly at Ankhare, as if for help, but the general was studying the ground and blushing furiously in shame. Kawaba, Psamtik’s mother, stood up and took the young man’s hand without further arguments and began to lead him from the room. He stood quite tall, as almost all of the Pharaoh’s children did, but as he left, they saw his backbone clearly. His shoulder blades protruded like the tucked in wings of a pelican.

Matwa knew what Kawaba was doing. He’d actually seen the disgusting thing before, since Psamtik was unashamed. Kawaba would lie down on the bed after settling her son in. She would lift her sash and when he opened his mouth wide to take in most of her sagging breast, she always winced. He would suck vigorously, although she was as dry as a mummy’s tit in late summer. He always did this when he felt insecure. Matwa groaned as he imagined the young pharaoh-to-be with his eyes shut—those eyes that looked like balls with a thin membrane stretched over them— while he made loud sucking noises. He looked away in disgust and began to study the cracks in the stone floor.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

The Pharaoh--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The following was related to me by a trusted follower, who I killed later. I include this so that you will have some idea as to the situation in Egypt as King Cambyses made his plans to invade:

The body of the Pharaoh Ahmose lay on a stone slab. He was dressed splendidly. Even his crown was propped into place. His arms lay crossed on his chest in the manner of a mummy and the two scepters glinted in the sunlight. Attendants walked noiselessly through the room as a phalanx of shaved-headed priests dressed in pure white stood looking at the body, as if it would get up at any moment and address them. The Pharaoh had finally entered the underworld, where he would rule forever. The heat of the day was intense. Matwa, the head priest, knew that he must give the order that the body of the god-king be taken to the royal embalmers. He hesitated because his heart was heavy with thoughts of the state of Egypt.
The great Pharaoh Ahmose was truly the god on earth and now he was Osiris and would rule the underworld. None of the priests surrounding the dead pharaoh showed any emotion, for this was a time of grave peril for the king. His body had to be prepared and this might take up to six weeks. The tomb was well prepared—it had been for the last thirty years. A priest used a fly whisk to make sure no insect landed on the king.
No, it wasn’t the fact that the pharaoh had gone to the underworld that bothered Matwa, but that he had left no real successor. The son who had been groomed for the throne of Upper and Lower Egypt was now dead. He preceded his father in death, thanks to the Greeks. Pharaoh Ahmose had been keen on strengthening his ties with the Greeks, but Ahmose III had died in a shipwreck on his way to Greece on an expedition.
Now they were left only with the sickly and effeminate Psamtik III. The priesthood opposed his ascension, but his mother was far more powerful than the other queens and it would be impossible to change the course of events now. Matwa had been in favor of a lesser ranked son, Ankhare, who was serving as the army commander. He was virile and steadfast. Psamtik, on the other hand...

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

The Madness of King Cambyses

My plan was to make Cambyses mad, as I had his father, Cyrus the Great. It began with his obsession with Egypt, one of the Persian satrapies. 

“What do you think?” Cambyses asked Mihr, his advisor, cocking his head as he studied the map. Mihr opened his mouth, but Cambyses said, “Hmm, yes, I think so too.” He stroked his black beard contemplatively. Mihr did not move. The emperor cocked his head, as if listening and nodding his head slightly. 
Suddenly Cambyses turned and glared at him. Cambyses opened his eyes wide in a look of indescribable hatred and began to stalk towards Mihr. Cambyses began to reach for his dagger, but Mihr reached for his holy kusti string and shook it.

“Your Majesty, I... I have answered your summons!” Mihr said in a trembling voice. The emperor stopped. Mihr’s voice had ended the trance I had placed on him, hoping to have him kill that gnat of an advisor. 

His stance relaxed and he smiled at Mihr, gesturing him eagerly to follow him to the wall map of Egypt. He began to talk excitedly. 

“... my destiny! I can feel it calling to me! I want to go to Egypt to conquer that ancient land. Maybe I’ll even set up a capital there eventually. Mihr, I want to become a real pharaoh. I want you to get all the information that you can on their customs and religious practices.”

“Uh, yes, at once Your Majesty,” Mihr said. 

“First, however, I will begin to treat my magi more like the pharaoh treats his priests. They are landowners and nobles under Pharaoh. In exchange, they will think of me as god on earth.” Cambyses smiled slowly, his eyes taking on a far away look. “A god on earth,” he repeated, seeming to taste the syllables. He turned to Mihr, his eyes bright and intense with his passion. “Mihr, you must help me with this, I need that information! I need to become a god!”

Mihr bowed his head in reverence. “Oh King of Kings, I sense that there is already divinity in you.”

Cambyses’ eyes lit up in triumph. “You are a smart one, Mihr! No wonder my father had so much faith in you. Do you know that my mother was actually an Egyptian princess, the daughter of the great Pharaoh Ahmose, who rules Egypt? Pharaoh Ahmose has been ruling for forty years now. He is old, very old.”

Mihr made a sound of agreement, but the emperor had already turned and was studying the map of Egypt with rapt attention. 
When he returned the next day, I, Gaumata, smiled. I imagined what he was thinking as a guttural voice in a strange language greeted him. There was no one else in the room but Cambyses, who sat upon his throne as straight as the depictions of the pharaoh he had seen. He wore a short skirt of golden material and was holding two strange looking scepters.

The emperor just sat there, looking straight ahead and Mihr looked as though he didn’t know whether to stay or to leave. 
Finally Cambyses spoke. “Pharaoh Ahmose has just died. He came to me in a dream and told me to set out for Egypt to claim my throne.” 

Everyone had already heard about the death of the pharaoh. However, the emperor wanted people to believe that he had seen it in a vision. So Mihr made the appropriate expressions of joy and wonder.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

Assassinate the Assassins--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The next day, the victorious assassin squad was near the city when a scout reached Prince Cambyses. “I see the traitors that I was to watch for, Oh Prince! They are still outside the city.”

“Prepare the troops. They are to die, each and every one of them. Do not bring me prisoners. I have been informed that they have plotted to take my life, but nobody knew why they left the city but my informant. They were conspiring with the old Babylonian priesthood to kill me before I could ascend the throne,” Cambyses watched the scout’s eyes widen. His own face was grave, but in his heart he was jubilant, for he knew now that his brother was dead. The plan was going wonderfully. He had Bardiya killed by the assassins, now he would have the troops kill the assassins. His dark secret would die with them.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/seeing-crimson/

My Wickedly Ingenious Plan--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now it was time to really get to work. I made sure that by the morning, Prince Cambyses had totally forgotten about his foray to the garden Quiet Room. As planned, the princes and magi, as well as some other nobles close to the dead king, Cyrus the Great, assembled to witness the demolition of the Quiet Room. Many tears were shed as the building was beaten down until only a pile of limestone lay in its place. There was much to do. The magi would oversee the transition of the throne, not that Cambyses agreed with that, but it was the protocol. 

The biggest problem was that succession was far from a settled fact. Some of the magi thought that there should be a period of waiting and finally they won out. I had to make sure that Cambyses won the throne, for he was my vehicle.

Cambyses and his brother were expected to deal with the problems that were plaguing the empire with the king’s passing. Many of the upstart kingdoms saw this as a time to rebel. Prince Bardiya was set to go to the far off kingdom of Susa to the east. Cambyses knew that he should return to Babylon, where he had been ruling, if only to quell the rumors, but he did not think it was safe to leave the capital at such a time. And there was the problem of settling the question of succession for once and for all.

Prince Bardiya was setting out for Susa, where he would quell the rebellion before returning for the decision of the magi.  Bardiya didn’t even know if he wanted to rule at all. What I got from the mind of Cambyses was that all his brother wanted was to hunt all day. 

I made a plan and let it enter my victim’s mind. His rage and fear that he would lose the throne made him a more than willing participant. He called together a secret meeting with a few of his most adept assassins. They would follow Bardiya as he made his way to Susa, but while the royal party slept, they would attack and kill the prince. They were to hide his remains along with those of his party. Even horses would have to be killed and hidden in the vast series of craggy cliffs and ravines.

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

Cyrus the Great Meets the Queen of the Massagetae--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The barbarians were so close that it surprised Cyrus, who was now only thirty feet from his tent and already swinging his finely crafted sword at the heads of the wild-looking people. In his mind, he pictured the relief he would have carved into the mountain. He would have them portray him as a god-like hero borne aloft a Simurg bird with the sun symbol beneath him. Rows and rows of the vanquished barbarians would be pictured with their hands tied, being led to pay their homage to him. He would have to make sure that their costumes were depicted accurately. The Scythians and their pointed hats, the Massagetae with their calf-length robes, and those strange cloaks on the Scythian warriors! What were they made from? There were those among them with fierce masks on their faces. They were painted in eerie earth tones, but the impact was fantastic. As he mused, he continued to fight confidently, seeing that he was flanked by his able royal bodyguards. Not that he was afraid to fight like any other soldier, but his importance was naturally a consideration. His arm was beginning to ache.

Soon he was face-to-face with Queen Apuyani. You may be surprised to hear that a king, what to speak of a queen, would be fighting in a battle. Yes, in those days, kings were required to fight alongside the troops. If a queen wished to hold onto power, she too had to fight.

Many people suddenly stopped and the din of the melee seemed to dim around that spot. Cyrus was sure this woman was the queen, because of her regal bearing. He felt guilt now. She had appealed to him and assured him that her country was obedient to the throne, yet he had had killed her entire army, including her son. His face softened with a look of regret as Queen Apuyani approached, teeth bared in a mask of rage.

I knew it was time to take over before he stepped away from the fight.  The king’s eyes fogged over and he appeared to become furious. Swinging his sword as if imbued with demonic power, he dashed at the queen. His heavy sword hit her club with such intensity that she almost dropped it. The queen’s charger backed up and then flung himself forward. This sudden movement caught Cyrus off guard. The queen pulled a half-sword from its scabbard as they closed in.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Massacre of the Massagetae--The Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal

By this time, Cyrus the Great was getting a reputation for being a bit zany—ha! After all, I was in his head. When he called his army together to move against the Massagetae, his advisors, especially the now adult Mihr, were against the campaign. It would be a disaster, they told him, but he cared not. So they left for the long journey. 

I have told you that Cyrus wanted to keep up the fantasy of his being god-like. People believed that he never defecated or even passed urine. Now, as the trip dragged on, he found it harder and harder to arrange a situation where he could relieve himself unseen. He became very constipated. This was my plan, of course.

The day arrived when we were very close to our destination. Our scouts reported that in the absence of the Queen, who had gone to secure allies, the foolish prince had tried to usurp the kingdom. Now the army of the Massagetae was in disarray. Cyrus ordered an attack, and most of the army was destroyed. This was very good, he thought, but he had not considered Queen Apuyani, who was to return with her allies.

The night after the massacre of the Massagetae army there was feasting and merriment in the Persian camp. By the time the soldiers had retired for the night, they were quite drunk.
The dawn was just breaking when Cyrus heard the war cries and lunged from his bed. He dressed hurriedly, for there was no way that he would appear in disarray. His guards would hold them off. He needed to urinate, but there was nothing that could be done about that now. His headache throbbed and he thought about his comfortable garden Quiet Room where he could sit in peace and silence.

His charger was saddled and pawing the ground when Cyrus appeared from his tent. The soldier holding the reins looked pale and panicky.

“It’s the Massagetae, Your Highness, and they have allies, their kin, the Paralatae Scythians. Our army is much larger, but they have attacked without warning,” the soldier’s voice broke as if he were a teenaged boy.

Cyrus was annoyed, but he felt a twang of sympathy for the young man, who could be among the dead when this was over. Taking the reins, he reassured him, “they are only barbarians without the slightest idea of how to conduct an attack. Let’s send them to their barbarian afterworld without delay so they can enjoy their reward!”

http://www.extasybooks.com/banner-of-fire-9/

The Wannabe Sorcerer Gets His Due--The Sorcerer Gaumata

I thought of what to do next. For example, I considered that he might want to try the fire trick and I would make fire come out of his ass. But he was out of luck. I had been curious, but now I was bored. I was also annoyed to find that Martyn was one of those bullies—the kind I despised. If you remember well, I was a victim of such a bully, but in my time, these mean-spirited boys could literally get away with murder if their target was a poor child. I was the child of a whore. Nobody in my wretched village would ever have intervened on my behalf, so I was forced to endure terrible beatings.

These memories came back in a frightening crash as Martyn glared at Tete de Lun and threatened him. Martyn shook him as if he were a bag of bones then he said, “Make him atone for his sins against me, for I am the great Sorcerer Gaumata!”

My rage was like a dark storm cloud. How dare he use my name! Yes, I would make him atone for his sins against me. Martyn grinned like an empty skull, but only for a moment. He reached and pulled his own hair again and again until there was a bald spot like the sort a much older man would have. Then he began to tear at his clothing, feeling as if fire ants were crawling over him, their leader periodically sending out the order to bite. When they bit in unison, the formic acid felt like a torch upon his skin and he slapped himself again and again as more of his flesh was exposed to the gaping audience. When he was well naked, he began to caper about hysterically screaming and waving his arms over his head. He punched at his cheeks and jumping from the stage, he began to gnaw on the shiny bar until his teeth began to fall out. 

I could no longer bear the pain, having to share it with him as I was in his body. I left him and hovered over his body, unseen before rushing back to my own. I felt light now, as I always do when I have done something evil. Somehow, although I am not drawn to morality at all, I thought I had taught Martyn some valuable lessons. One was that you should never try to dabble in evil when you have no idea of what you may encounter. The second was that being a bully is bad. The third and most important was to never cross the Sorcerer Gaumata. 

He Makes Water--The Sorcerer Gaumata

His train of thought was broken by a slight guffaw. It came from a slight young man, who wore thick glasses and appeared to be alone. Martin glared at him and said, “You dare to laugh? You shouldn’t even be here. You are a mere human among us immortals.”

I saw what he hid in his mind. The young man who laughed had been the object of Martyn’s ridicule for as long as they had been in school together. Martyn hated him because he was awkward and perhaps plain looking. Before his fascination with the occult, Martyn had been what he called a “jock.” He ran with a crowd of likeminded rascals who preyed upon boys like the one he called “Tete de Lun,” because of his severe acne. Those boys ridiculed Tete de Lun because of his interest in esoteric lore. Somehow Martyn became likewise obsessed, but he never showed this side of himself to his jock friends, and he still made fun of Tete de Lun.

Now he was furious that the object of his ridicule was laughing at him and his secret hobby. Now in college, Martyn still maintained the facade of being a jock, even joining a fraternity, while Tete de Lun, also attending the large college was still an outcaste. If you know me, my dear readers, you know that as a child, I was subjected to torture by bullies like Martyn. This turn of events enlivened me.

Now Martyn called out in a loud voice, “Come, oh Tete de Lun. Come and join me in a duel. Since you have dared to laugh, we will see who is the better sorcerer.”

The boy stammered something then turned to leave. Martyn pointed, “Make him come up here. He has laughed. Now see my power!”

Some of the men, who were dressed as monsters of some sort or another, pushed Tete de Lun forward. He ascended the stage with knocking knees, for he was still quite afraid of Martyn.

“Now kind audience,” Martyn intoned, “we shall begin with the simplest of sorcery. Here, you,” he pointed to a woman wearing vampire teeth. Please give me your empty glass.” She passed up a clear glass beer mug stained around the lips with her tawdry red lipstick. He handed the glass to Tete de Lun, who took it with trembling hands. His face had gone pale.

“Now make water! Make water from nothing!” he ordered.
Tete do Lun giggled nervously. “I could in the lab. I am a chemistry major…” Everyone in the room began to laugh, and a few tossed beer and nuts at him. 

“As expected,” Martyn said, taking the glass into his own hands. “Now see the wonder of my power!” Some people laughed, but all watched. “Make water!” he called out.

I was ready. I forced the contents of his bladder out and a puddle began to form around his feet. Martyn looked down at the mess, unable to believe what had happened. This drew the crowd’s attention, and they roared with laughter.

At this, the proprietor, furious at this indignity, ran to the stage. “Get down from there, you ass!”
Martyn almost shrieked. “No, wait! I will show you! Give me a chance!”

The man stepped back only because the audience was screaming for more.
Inside of Martyn’s mind, I saw what he was thinking. He realized that he had used an expression he thought I had misunderstood. He would be more careful. As Tete de Lun tried to run off the stage, Martyn held him by the elbow and shook him. Under his breath he muttered, “Stay put, insect. I’m going to destroy you for what you did.”

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman/

They Say Possession is 9/10s of the Law--I Possess People--The Sorcerer Gaumata

By the time I had been in the mind of the King of Kings, Cyrus the great, for seven years, I was bored and ready for a change. The brat Mihr had grown to be a young man, but Rustem visited him and in a way, like I did, he possessed the boy. He did this so that he could still advise the king. I found myself paralyzed at times like those, but I quickly learned that he could only speak though Mihr.

I began to impersonate Rustem, so that I would speak through the king’s mouth, but to him, he heard his dear advisor. One day Mihr caught me advising in this manner. What he heard me saying was this:

“Your Lordship must protect the eastern regions of your vast kingdom. We have discovered that the tribe that calls themselves the Massagetae has decided not only to challenge your over- lordship, but they are also instigating rebellion throughout the lesser kingdoms. As I have interpreted your dream, you see that the truth of my words is evident. In addition, you have heard yourself that the evil that will come to you will start in the east. Like the god Mithra, you must sweep in from the east and devastate any state that dares oppose you. In addition, the queen that rules that kingdom would make a fine supplement to your maidservants, if you catch my drift...”

I was, of course, encouraging him to attack one of his satrapies. It was a powerful one, and I hoped that he would end up dead in the scuffle. Mihr flew through the door and began to shake his sacred Kusti rope screaming, “Be gone, demon!” He surely felt my presence.

Cyrus began to explain the plan to attack the Massagetae to Mihr, but Rustem came to the surface and began to tell him that this was all wrong. The king stared at Mihr as if he were mad, for remember, he believed that Rustem, not I, had been advising him.

He screamed, “What do you tell me? Have you gone mad? Perhaps you are ill, Rustem? Never mind, prepare, for we are going to war. I am convinced that this rebellion must be quelled and I will see to it myself. Do you not remember that the Emperor Astyages, my grandfather, allowed a certain rebellion to get out of hand? Look what happened to him! Ha! The land of the Massagetae will swarm with the royal army and they will be the example I will set for people who oppose me, as you so elegantly stated before that crazy outburst.” Cyrus sat back on his throne gathering his strength. He blinked, and now he saw Mihr, not Rustem.

“Mihr, I am getting old now. My two strong sons, Cambyses II and Bardiya, are eager for me to die so they can rule. If I have to die, it will be in battle, not being tended by the women as I lie in bed. No, I will continue in my glory until the gods see fit to take me. Ah...perhaps the gods don’t even care. They’re probably too busy getting drunk,” he said with a dry chuckle.

“Well, what do you think of this?” he asked. “I will first propose marriage to the Queen Apuyani of the Massagetae. If she accepts the proposal, then there will be no need to waste the time and men that it will take to secure her kingdom. I can simply annex it.”

Mihr nodded dumbly.

“See to it that a messenger is sent immediately with the message and gifts. We should, nevertheless prepare for war. I do not believe that my proposal will be accepted.”

So my plans to kill Cyrus the Great were put into place.

http://www.extasybooks.com/taino-ti-6/

Walking Dead--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The biggest of my problems was that Rustem refused to stay dead. I do not mean like your wretchedly ignorant idea of zombies or walking dead people. I cannot believe that even having survived this long entertainment has not improved. I told you that I am staying at the domicile of a person by the name of Forrest. I stay here only on his insistence, for I need no person. If I needed what this simpleton farmer had to offer, I would possess his body. In any case, he introduced me to the flattened box he calls a TV. By some sort of witchcraft it projects the forms of small humans. We sat upon a sort of throne called a couch, and with a wand-like apparatus, he makes the forms appear. His latest interest is a play called Walking Dead People. He appears to be entertained by it, and drinks a bitter ale in a strange metal cup. I tried it, and felt insulted that he did not heat it to the correct temperature. Rather, he served it cold. I threatened to kill him for this insult, and he poured the concoction into a glass flask and placed it into a box that produced a humming noise accompanied by light. I forced him to drink some before I would sample it, for I feared he had tried to poison me.

As for the flattened forms of the Walking Dead People, it gave me an idea. However, I would not personally do this thing. I wondered if a sorcerer tried to inhabit a body, but found it to be dead. If he could not escape, this walking dead person would happen. If one could force the spirit out of a living body and make it go into a dead body, then one would not have to share the body. This has always been a problem for me, so I am thinking about how this might be best accomplished.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

The Horrors Inflicted Against Me--The Sorcerer Gaumata

If only the women the king kept would all die!
There were times when I dearly wanted to return to my own body. Especially when the king engaged in sex with his many wives. Although I shut my eyes against the awful sights and I tried to plug my ears against the sounds of rutting, it was of no use. Their sweating bodies would slap and squelch together. There were horrendous sucking noises and deep grunts like those made by pigs. And the desperate need to scratch that evil itch between their legs was more than I could stomach! I would lose control of my body. I hated that the most. My pelvis would begin to thrust on its own, as if possessed by a gremlin. The sight of my own reddened, swollen cock made me violently ill, yet I could not stop myself. Sometimes I beat myself about the groin in anguish, but it was as if I had no control over what should be mine. For a sorcerer possessed of so much power, it shamed me to no end that I had to undergo such suffering! But often I was able to assert myself. At these times, Cyrus would be quite cruel, throwing the woman off his bed and glaring at her in hatred. His desire and my repulsion were thus intermittently present, causing his wives to fear him greatly. They never came to his bed willingly anymore. Instead, they dreaded it. The King of Kings knew this and it made him livid with rage. Instead of discouraging him, it made him go about his task with vicious zeal, much to my horror. Time passed slowly as I waited, but I knew that soon I would kill my host and inhabit the body of his robust son, Prince Cambyses.

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

Rustem the Sorcerer-Mage Returns--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Rustem’s brat entered the king’s private quarters a few minutes later. Cyrus dismissed his retainers. I read in his mind that he felt quite safe alone. He kept two swords at the ready, and he was the best of warriors. That part I admired. Today you never see a world leader head up his troops as the kings of old did. They are cowards of the worst sort. 

I looked through the king’s eyes, but I found myself unable to control him properly, especially when the boy entered the room. There was something different about him, yet it was familiar. Cyrus related his dream and suddenly I was hit by an angry presence in the boy, whose head lolled to the side now. My loins clenched in fear as I felt Rustem’s spirit enter the boy’s body and begin to speak.

How could this be? I had killed the big lout! Like a vengeful ghost, he now haunted me. I was so stunned that I could only crouch in a corner of the king’s mind as he gave his interpretation. He disappeared while the king was still speaking.

“So you say that the interpretation of the magi was spurious then? I thought so, but your interpretation, although it makes sense, is quite distressing. My two sons Cambyses and Bardiya—I have really failed to watch them as closely as I should have. They are quite grown now and like the tree, they will not bend, rather they will splinter. As for my fate, it is certain that nobody, even the greatest monarchs are freed from death. I tell you, Rustem, I have been able to take refuge in your advice that we can only act for the sake of Order in this life. O...my friend...do not leave yet...I...need...”

The boy shook his head, and I knew he was back. Mihr looked at the emperor and cringed in his chair. Cyrus smiled at him to reassure him.

“Do not fear, Mihr,” he said and heaved a weary, but satisfied sigh. “I appoint you as my assistant. From now on, we shall breakfast together.”

Mihr blinked. His jaw had dropped open, giving him the look of a startled half-wit. “Assistant?” he repeated dumbly. 

“Yes, yes, I don’t know what I was thinking putting you in the Mage Hall. Your place is here. You are the son of my most trusted friend. Have the servants move your things into the Royal Suite at once. You shall be appointed the Royal Advisor.”

Thus began my travails. For the next seven years I was trapped in the body of Cyrus the Great. I almost lost my own body, because the man was resistant indeed, especially now, with Rustem’s help. Luckily, I was able to take control for long enough to order a trusted man to take care of my body, which was in a near-dead state. The body was losing weight, but slowly, because it was in suspended animation. The man would wash the body and pack it back into the tree trunk, protecting it with soft mosses after washing it and tending to its sores. He even found a solution to the insect and rodent infestations by using fragrant, repellent herbs. Still I dreaded ever having to return to that body. It had aged and grown saggy. My beautiful face was marred by the loss of my delicate ears. I burned with the need for revenge, but I also liked my new royal life of ease and plenty. 

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The Magi Are Fools!--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Monushir shifted positions. To me it looked as if he had bad indigestion. He finally spoke. 

“Your Highness has dreamed a dream that may have no special meaning. As you can see, it is a variation of the dream of the hated Median Emperor Astyages, your grandfather. It is different in some respects, however. You have seen a tree, rather than a flood of water. A tree symbolizes stability. That two of the main branches have rotted may mean that you may be neglecting two important aspects that keep your kingdom strong. One is the magi. We feel that following the advice of the magi and having respect for the magi is essential, if one is to maintain unity and strength. The second most important branch represents the Fire Temples in which we operate. Without the upkeep and building of these structures, your kingdom may well rot. I have spoken the words that have been inspired in me by the great Lord Ahura Mazda, as he sees fit to speak through me.” 

The head-mage seemed very pleased with himself and after swallowing back a belch, he fell into a meaningful silence.

I rubbed my hands together when I realized that Cyrus the Great needed to visit the garden Quiet Room. He was tired, yet too anxious to return to sleep. He glanced at the self- righteous, fat man with the grapefruit-sized head and snorted. “Bring me Rustem!”
“We have already informed the Emperor that Rustem the Sorcerer-Mage is dead!” Rusaspa blurted out in nasal, rapid-fire speech.

Cyrus the Great eyed him with a look that made the man wince. “Bring me his son!”

This pronouncement made my jubilation whither. I knew that after Rustem’s death, the magi had collected his son and brought him back to the palace. I worried about the son. Had he inherited his father’s gifts? The girl, his sister, was missing, so I did not worry about her. I wish I had been able to control Cyrus before he blurted out his desire to see the accursed brat! I could see that my technique still needed adjustments.

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Revenge is Sweet--The Sorcerer Gaumata

“Eventually, the child Cyrus was brought to the Royal Court of the Median Emperor Astyages. He was put under the expert tutelage of the same Harpagus, for by this time, Astyages had entirely forgotten the incident. As time passed, Harpagus secretly instilled hatred and rebellion into the young prince’s mind. When he was grown up, Cyrus was sent back to Persia to rule the subordinate throne of Persia under the Medes.

“One day, Cyrus gathered all of his Persian court, as well as the nobles in the kingdom. He gave each an ax and sent them to chop wood all day. He did not allow them to stop for food or water. The next day he invited them for a great hunt. Afterwards they feasted all evening. Cyrus asked them to vote. Which day was more enjoyable? They all chose the hunting and feasting. King Cyrus explained in his charismatic way, that as servants to the Medes, they had no real control over their lives. They were, in fact, slaves. After his fiery speech, he invited the proud lords to join in a rebellion against the powerful Median overlords, headed by his grandfather, Emperor Astyages.

“When Astyages learned of the rebellion, the dream came back to haunt him. He was terrified, so he called his most able army officer, Harpagus, to lead the Median army to quell the rebellion, a thing they should have been able to do easily. Harpagus finally found the means to revenge the gruesome death of his son. Instead of quelling the rebellion, he joined forces with Cyrus, and they returned to the Median capital to overthrow Astyages. The dream that had haunted the Emperor had finally come true. The new combined empire under you, our lord and emperor Cyrus, has grown and prospered since then.”

Monushir bowed slightly and turned again to face Cyrus.

Cyrus glared at him. “Out with it, you bombastic fool! What is the significance of my dream?”

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An Evil Feast--The Sorcerer Gaumata

To continue my story, the mage went on:
“Harpagus the soldier finally confessed to the king when pressed to tell the truth. By this time, the king was loathe to kill his grandson, so instead he punished the poor soldier. One day, Emperor Astyages invited Harpagus to a feast and he asked the soldier to send his young son in the morning so that he could spend some time with the other noble children before the feast. Harpagus was delighted to have been invited, and he decided that the king must have reconsidered his dire act and realized that it was better to have a noble grandson like young Cyrus.
“All of the nobles were served by porters who came and set various meats and other delightful foods on their dishes. Harpagus ate heartily of the tender meat while laughing and telling stories of his exploits along with the other men. Toward the end of the great feast, Emperor Astyages called for order. He announced that Harpagus was the guest of honor and was therefore, the only one who would partake of the last wonderful dish. The steward brought a great covered dish out before him and opened it. Harpagus’ grin turned into a rictus of terror when he saw the head of his son surrounded by his severed feet, hands, and genitals in a gaily- decorated arrangement.
‘Do you know where the fine meat that you have eaten so heartily came from?’ asked Emperor Astyages.
“For a moment, Harpagus was too stunned and grief stricken to speak, then fearing for the lives of his other family members, he said, “Yes, my Lord. I understand.” He took the remains home for the death rituals and wept bitterly for his lost favorite son.
Harpagus feared for his family after that time, but he continued to act as Astyages’ faithful and apt soldier. He would bide his time.

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The Meaning of the Nightmare--The Sorcerer Gaumata

As I said, this was the first time I had entered a person who was deep in a dream. It was disorienting. I felt Cyrus woke with a start.  Sweat was beaded up on his brow and upper lip.  His night clothes were damp with cold perspiration.  But he remembered the dream, as I did!  I sensed that he dared not go to sleep again because he has had this dream before, only he would always forget the dream by the time the morning would come. 
Now I discovered another strange anomaly. Cyrus is able to exert his will at times, even when I tried to take over. Yes, I had noticed that this was the case with Rustem, but he was, after all, a sorcerer. Perhaps he had put some sort of protective spell on the king. I did not know, so it worried me. It took much energy to even guide his thoughts. 
Cyrus waited for a moment in his enormous bed, sitting still in the moonlit room with his head in his hands.  I regressed to a corner of his mind, waiting, for I felt weakened. When his panicked heartbeat returned to normal, he reached out for the bell on his nightstand and began to clang it vigorously.  When the wild-eyed servant rushed in, disheveled and panicked, the King of Kings said, “Get the magi.  Assemble them into the council chamber without delay.”

There was a short silence as the magi glanced at each other after the emperor related his dream to them. The candlelight did not entirely banish the darkness in the Council Chamber and the utter silence outside added to the air of a secret meeting.
“Ahem...” Monushir the Head Mage looked at the others. “Well, speak!” Cyrus demanded. “This dream, as you well know, is remarkably similar to the dream of Astyages, the Median Emperor, and your grandfather. Will you permit me to retell this noble tale for the sake of the young magi?” Monushir asked.
Cyrus waved him on.
“As you recall, Astyages had dreamed that a great flood came from his daughter, Mandane’s womb, and had flooded the world. Calling the magi to interpret the dream, they told the Mede that his daughter’s womb would produce the man who would overthrow him. Wanting to avert such a disaster, Astyages married her to an unambitious Persian by the name of Cambyses and then sent the couple off to rule Persia. He thus tried to insure that his daughter’s son would not be a threat. He would be a Persian, owing to his father’s lines, and he would live far from the capital. Astyages had no peace, however. Later, as the dream returned, haunting his days and nights, he decided to kill the child that his daughter and the Persian, Cambyses, had produced.” He tuned to the young magi. “You understand now, that this baby would become none other than our lord, Cyrus the Great, King of Kings.” He bowed and continued.

“Sending a trusted soldier by the name of Harpagus to Persia to perform the evil deed, Emperor Astyages tried to forget about the affair and to regain some of his peace of mind. To his dismay, the dreams did not go away. They became worse. What Astyages did not know, was that the soldier had been so affected by the pleas of the princess for the innocent, but regal baby Cyrus, that instead of killing it, he left the baby prince with peasants whose baby had just died. As time passed, the child’s kingly bearing set him apart from the other peasant boys and soon the tales of a princely child reached the ears of the great Astyages, who began to suspect that his grandson Cyrus was not dead after all.”
To be continued…

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The Demon of Death--From the Journal of the Sorcerer Gaumata

Now I wanted Rustem to see his handiwork. The way he had killed his wife and daughter, for I heard nothing coming from the bleeding hut now. They had to be dead. The boy Mihr finally got up and ran to the nearby village for help. He returned with two village women, for women were the only ones who could approach the bleeding hut. They soon left, but I saw that the boy sprawled on his behind weeping. They had to be dead.
Soon a small crowd appeared, headed by two men joined to each other by a cotton rope. Two black and brown dogs, the ones they called “four-eyed dogs” were likewise joined. They were the corpse handlers and their sacred dogs. The dogs were believed to be able to sniff out the Corpse Demon and force it to leave the body. If they did not do this, the demon would enter a living body, usually through the mouth or anus. 
I watched as they broke down the door of the hut and removed a body. It was the body of the Sorceress Anahita. They did not go back in. A chill passed through me. The girl must have escaped. It should not have concerned me, for the mother was the real danger, but somehow I was frightened. Something was surely amiss. 
Suddenly, I felt Rustem’s mind snap. He no longer needed me to harass him. The sight of his dead wife caused him to give in to his insanity fully. He approached the crowd and began to shake hands with people, commenting genially on the fine weather. He acted as if they were gathered for a party at his home. People whispered, “He is mad. Yes, he is a madman. Avoid looking at his eyes.” Others said, “Perhaps the Corpse Demon has already infected him.”
I laughed heartily, but my fun with Rustem was over for the most part. I stayed with him as he wandered to the stream and took up the stick he used for killing xrafstars. I produced a vision of crabs with red bodies. Their shells were spiked with sharp, thorn-like protrusions that exuded poison. I added scorpion-like tails that moved menacingly over their backs. At first, I produced a few. He stuck at them in a frenzy as their guts splashed onto his face and arms. More and more of them erupted from the stream until an army of clattering claws filled the air. Rustem struck madly until, stepping on a large crab that burst open producing copious slime, he slipped. His head hit a large river rock and he died. As his soul left his body, I struggled to escape.
I found myself in my own body. The pain was excruciating. My body was stiff from having been curled up in the hollow of the tree. Insects had feasted on it, and mice had chewed my exposed nails, despite the protective spells I used. I screamed long and hard as my own agony tore through me. I had also felt the sharp pain when Rustem’s head had struck the stone, and I had bitten my own tongue in the agony. Still, I had succeeded. I had not only punished my enemy, but I had also honed my skill of possession. Now I knew where I wanted to go next. I would find that Cyrus the Great and teach him that he was not so great after all.

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