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𝗠𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬
𝗠𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬
You awaken curled into the large root of a tree. The overhang of leaves is thick and the air tastes pure and old. Before you sit a large wooden plate loaded with vegetables, fruits, and dried meats. Next to it is a wooden goblet filled with a dark purple liquid. Standing beyond that is a man that seems to be both old and young, leaning on a long staff with massive horns erupting from his head and a bearskin thrown over his shoulder. He turns as he hears you stir. "Oh good, you awaken." His voice was a deep rumble, not thunder—never thunder—but more like the groan of an ancient tree in a strong wind. "Eat. Drink. And tell me of yourself, my foal." You reach forward and go to ask a question only to find your voice gone. "It'll come back soon. Maybe you could do without talking for while. You, mortals, do love to squawk." Your expression blossoms into surprise. "Fine, I shall go first...
"There was child. He was lost in woods on surface. Blond locks and sweet smile were threatened to be pecked away by crows. I found him. In shape of bear, of course. Jyah. Jyah. Don't give me that look. What about this entire place seems natural? Anyway. I took him. I brought him here, to Naiwa. I sat him on my golden throne and named him my son. My Jaryło. Of course, he was not my son by blood. Instead, lost infant was Perun's offspring. Cursed god of sky, thunder, and general shit." Veles spit, it is black like ichor. "He loathed me for calling Jaryło my own. Yet, he left that little bastard in forest. Every time I touched surface, he'd rain lightning down upon me. So, I took to form of bear. It was easier to hide from him. Perun couldn't tell his creatures apart. That's what you get for living so far above mortals you love.
"Years passed. As they do. You, mortals, become wrinkly, old, and impotent. But mighty Veles still rules from Nawia. I sewed seeds of chaos for Perun. Laughed at his attempts to smite me down. And when he turned his backs on you mortals, I gave you magic. I returned your cattle. I made rivers flow deep and blue. Anything to make Perun pause. He was supposed to be your mortal's gods. I could take his followers as easily as I could his son." Veles pauses, laying his staff down. "Jaryło grew up. He took wife. He slew winter. He danced in spring and in blood. A good boy. Until he was taken from me.
"Great irony, scholars say. I call bullshit. I went across plains, demanding his return. Those mortals that knew much and spoke nothing, I cursed. Disease ravaged them. I spun chaos across lands. But I got too proud. Too foolish. What? Gods can admit when they're wrong. Hindsight is for owls with their wicked heads. Perun finally caught me. He sent lightning down upon me and made sure that I'd return to Nawia. Sit on this throne. Be unable to find Jaryło. So, that's why you are here.
"I hear war is brewing up there, but not pitiful mortal one. One between gods. I'm curious. Friends could be made. Bargains struck. Jaryło could be found. But I need to do this not seen." He approaches, kneeling in front of you. The food and drink were knocked aside, you having eaten and drank your fill sometime during his story. He places his massive hands on your cheeks and pulls your gaze up to him. His eyes are dark, eternal, and terrifying. "You're dead, anyway. You shouldn't mind me having stroll in your flesh?"
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𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬
𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬
"I woke up covered in ash because they thought they could defeat me by burning forest I was hiding in! I laugh. But I remember black. Soot. It covered me. My large hands, smaller. My mighty horns, gone. Something wasn't right. I now was now like mortal. There were gods that never seen ground. Hah! I walked in mortal's homes and taught them magic. I fed them. I walked them into Naiwa. Jyah. Jyah. Stop looking at me like that. We're both drunk..."
Veles's turn to mortality was a mixed one. He'd spent a lot of time among the mortals, during the good times and the bad—even if he was what created the bad. Yet, when he was no longer wanted, or if his battles became too hard he could turn into a bear and slip back to Nawia—the underworld. Now he was trapped in the flesh of his own doings and mistakes. He didn't care for the steam that rose from the blood of the battlefield. His plan had always been to find a way to outsmart Perun and retrieve Jaryło. Now, both were a moot point.
When the first god died, trying to escape their invisible cage, Veles watched with interest. And his lips twisted as he couldn't see their ghostly visage rise from death. He called out to Nawia, but he heard silence. He tried to shift into a bear, only to find his flimsy flesh unchanged. A god of chaos that had no hand in his own downfall, wasn't a happy one. He cursed the other gods and ventured from them as far as he could. All his plans were on the wind, and he was power and purpose were fleeting. Yet, Veles wasn't purely made of pride and idiocy. As it was said of him:
"Like the bear, he is powerful and wise, but he also has the fangs and trickery of the snake. Duality is his nature and survival is his promise."
So, he carved an existence in the form of a small shop in London. He found other immigrants from Slavic bloodlines, and he told stories from the homeland. Many a бабушка saught him out when there was disease or death upon their house. They referred to him as a shepherd, not knowing why. He tended to his flock while amassing a small following that became criminal in nature. When he was unfortunately upended and moved to America, he found the fruit of his endeavors actually held up. He could contact his growing connections in London. It was enough to get established in DC before finding himself on the West Coast.
The transient nature of their constant upheaval and relocation wasn't something that was hard for Veles to get used to. He was the shepherd to the Underworld, after all. In the shady part of Seattle, he started a butcher shop, importing delicacies from London. He made a name for himself, and the бабушкаs quickly took a liking to him, along with hipsters talking about how "authentic" his sausages were. Slowly, he was building up his blue-collar criminal connections again. If he couldn't seed into the earth with his mighty Underworld, he'd use the figurative one of mortals.
The Medved Butcher Shoppe moved more than cuts of meat, and its old-world criminal influence could easily be seen. He could move things in and out of Seattle with a smile and a shot of vodka. Still, Veles takes kindly to the other gods that wish to stop by and share a drink or two with him. His dalliances are no secret.
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AlteredTundra
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Hound55
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TheMushroomLord
