The Fangs of Doom Seth Estlow -Part 1Waldwulf Wulfing was a warrior of the Kazza tribe.

They were the people inhabiting the Black Forest at this time, which was the year 428 Anno Domini. Waldwulf, like the rest of his tribe, did not know the year by such a name, since they were Pagans. They worshipped the Gods of the Thiotish people, such as head God Wuotan, his son Donar the Thunderer, and Ziu, the God of war. In fact, there was a place the Kazza would gather for important events, such as festivals or the tribal council, and this was around an oak tree sacred to the God Donar. Waldwulf was the son of the great warrior Theodrih Wulfing, who had been in many tribal wars, and had scars enough to prove it. Now was a time of peace, however, and Waldwulf contentedly lived in his own hut by himself. He was a man of 28 and had already been in his share of battles. He killed his first foe at the age of 17, and that sparked a blood feud which lasted for years. Still, he was happy in this time of peace, and only sated his bloodlust in the hunt. The young warrior was on such a hunt, carrying his bow and his spear as he wandered through the forest, when he spied a strange building of stone in the woods at sunset. He had never been to that part of the woods in all his days, and was curious about the strange structure. The Kazza lived in this forest, but they had never been known to create such structures. Armed with his spear, Waldwulf took a closer look. As Waldwulf approached the structure, he heard inhuman chanting and the steady beating of drums coming from inside, and he judged the place to be some kind of temple. As he looked at the walls he saw images of serpents carved everywhere. He thought about it, and he recalled that he had heard a tale of barbaric snake-cults in this land before the Thiotish people, or even the Kelts had arrived there. Still, he thought it seemed strange that there would be any sounds coming from inside the temple. He had heard tell that long ago, the snake-worshippers had been driven from the land. Eventually the warriors curiosity got the better of him. He tried to peer inside the structure through the windows, but heavy curtains hung in the way. At last, he made up his mind to walk through the door. From what he knew, the snake-worshippers were savages who performed horrid rituals. From the size of the building he judged that there could have been no more than half-a-dozen men inside, and he could easily slay them all and be called a hero by his fellow Kazza. Waldwulf kicked the rusty iron doors of the temple open. There were only three men there. Two of them he could see clearly. They sat in white robes, and their faces were inhuman and piggish. The third man was shrouded in a black hooded robe. While the men in the white robes sat with drums in their laps, the one in the black robe stood before a huge, monstrous serpent! The warrior had not seen men such as this before, and he had certainly never seen a snake that size in the entire Black Forest. He had heard tales from the dark lands to the south of snakes large enough to strangle an ox, and this one was certainly that big. Your vile cult will not continue its vile rites in my forest! the warrior shouted. He raised his spear and rushed forward. The serpent tried to bite the warrior, but he drove his spear through the snakes throat.

Ill take these fangs for a trophy! Waldwulf declared. The warrior placed his foot on the snakes neck and wrapped his free hand around the fangs, tearing the fangs out with a violent jerk. The man in the black robe lifted his hood, displaying his hideous face, and spoke: Tchort-zhakh eh-ghith-ekho matha-rikh-azhi-oah! With that, he placed his fingers upon Waldwulfs left hand, which held the fangs. Dont touch me, foul thing! the man cried out before driving his spear through the creatures chest. The two man-things in the white robe stood up, drawing primitive daggers, but Waldwulf quickly slew both of them. These fangs should be proof enough of my tale once I tell it to the chieftain, Waldwulf said aloud. If they wish, they can come here and see the temple and the corpses of these man-beasts! In the dark of night, Waldwulf walked back toward his village. By the time he got home, all the people in his village, including the chieftain, were asleep. The warrior decided it would be best if he showed the fangs to the chieftain by the light of day. He went into his hut and lay down to sleep. That night Waldwulf had horrible dreams of being in a pit full of snakes. An especially large and familiar-looking snake stared at him hungrily. The creature slithered toward him, wrapping its muscular form around his body, squeezing harder and harder with every exhale. Waldwulf felt as if his eyes would pop out of his head. Why? he asked. Why do you do this? The snake opened its mouth. Its two top fangs were missing. I want my fangs back! the creature hissed. The creature squeezed tighter, tighter, tighter, until Waldwulf awoke. It was early in the morning, but he could not go back to sleep. He decided to get up and stand outside the chieftains hut until he awoke. The chieftain was a stout, bearded man by the name of Waldmar. He was the veteran of many tribal wars, but he was middle aged now and spent most of his time maintaining order among his tribe. After he awoke, he went outside his hut. He was surprised to see Waldwulf waiting there for him. Waldwulf, why do you visit me so early? Chieftain Waldmar, I found a temple of an old snake-cult deep in the woods. Pigfaced men were there worshipping a large snake. Pig-faced, you say? Waldmar asked, scratching his head. That sounds like the Ghermoth a primitive race that used to inhabit this land but I thought they had all been slain many years ago! Well, I slew the ones I found, Waldwulf replied, and I can prove that I slew the snake! Have you ever seen fangs this big? Waldwulf held out the pair of fangs for the chieftain to see. They certainly dont come from any snake native to these woods, the chieftain said. Perhaps he had best ask our shaman about this. He knows about the Ghermoth and the vile Gods they worshipped in ages past. The men walked to the nearby hut of the shaman. They stood outside the door and called for him, and he emerged from the hut. He was a hunched, white-bearded old man adorned with talismans and holding a rune-carved walking stick.

You have come here with questions about certain ancient and evil things from the past, the old man said. Come into my hut. I will tell you what you need to know. The two men followed the shaman into his hut. The whole inside of the hut was hung with strange fetishes and talismans made of stone, wood, feathers and bones. Now, I dont know everything, the shaman said, so explain to me why you have come here. Waldwulf says he found a temple of a serpent-cult, and judging from how he describes the men there, I think they are Ghermoth. Ah yes, the old man said. There may still be some Ghermoth dwelling in the Thiotish lands. The Ghermoth are not exactly men They are more like beast-men. They are a savage race, and if there are still any in these lands, they are very few. When they were plentiful in the Northlands, it was a dark age indeed. In those lands, the worshipped the vile toad-God Tsathoggua. The ones in these lands were known to worship an ancient serpent-God called Set. Set? Tsathoggua? Waldwulf asked. Why have I never heard of these beings? They are Old Ones a race of abominations older than Wuotan, or even the giants who lived before him. In the more civilized lands of men, the Old Ones are not worshipped, but often small groups of cultists will gather in secret places to perform the vile and ancient rites of the Old Ones. What did you see in the temple, boy? I saw three of those Ghermoth creatures. I heard them drumming and chanting from outside their stone temple. They had a huge snake with them. I slew the creature and took its fangs. See? The warrior held out his hand. When the shaman saw the two large fangs, he drew back in a sudden panic. Those fangs! I can sense something Did one of the Ghermoth you saw wear a black hooded robe? Yes, Waldwulf said. He said something, and then he touched my left hand before I killed him. Were those fangs in your hand when he touched it? the shaman asked. Why yes, they were, the Waldwulf answered. Those fangs are cursed! the shaman shouted. Take them out of my sight! May the Gods have mercy on you! What can I do? Waldwulf asked. Take them out of here! the shaman said. I will think of a way to lift the curse, but for now, take them out of here! The warrior thanked the shaman for his information, and Waldmar and Waldwulf left the hut. Waldwulf returned to his hut to sit quietly and stare at the fangs as they rested in his hand. How could the curse be lifted? Waldwulf sat and waited in his hut, still staring at those fangs as the sun set. The thought of the curse weighed heavy on his mind. He had already slain the priest that had cast the curse upon him, so there had to be some other way to lift it. Could the shaman think of some ritual to rid him of this curse? He knew not, but prayed to the Gods that he could somehow be rid of it. For days the warrior pondered what could lift this curse, and as he pondered, it seemed the curse grew stronger and stronger. While hunting, while cooking, while chopping firewood, the curse seemed to grow in his mind. Whenever he saw a snake, he

would leap back in terror. He refused to go near the place where he had seen the temple, and every night the warrior had the same horrid dreams of the snake pit, and every night, the coils tightened until he awoke in a cold sweat. He thought of throwing away the fangs, but then it occurred to him that he would perhaps need them to lift the curse, so he tucked them safely once more into the small cloth pouch he kept them in, and went back to pondering what evils were upon him. In the meanwhile, the shaman remained in his hut. He had not come out for the past few days, and every time Waldwulf nervously approached the door and called for him, there was no answer, although once, when he listened closely, he could hear the old man chanting in a strange tongue. At that point he decided he had best leave the shaman alone, but the dread of the curse made him restless. At last, when Waldwulf was rocking back and forth within his hut, jumping at every strange noise, the shaman came to his door. At first Waldwulf did not seem to notice, but at last, the shaman called his name and he looked. The old man had a dire expression upon his face. Waldwulf nervously awaited his next words. Waldwulf, the shaman said, I have consulted with the spirits and learned the right path. Lifting the curse will not be easy. But you can do it, right? the warrior asked anxiously. Actually, you will be doing most of the work, he answered. The Ghermoth priest you slew drew his power from the Serpent God Set, placing that power in the fangs you took. Simply destroying or throwing away the fangs would not do any good. Then what must I do?! the warrior demanded. The spirits told me of a powerful God, more ancient than Wuotan and his kin. In days of old his priests were constantly at war with the priests of Set. This God has been the foe of the serpent from the very beginning, and he was greatly worshipped by our forebears in the days of Aryas. Who is this God?! I beg you, tell me!! the young Wulfing pleaded. He was called Meitros by the sons of Aryas. In the daemonic script his name had seven letters corresponding to the seven planets. When the values of those letters were totaled, they would equal the number of days in the year. Meitros is the God of the Sun, and Lord of light and justice. It is his power the Serpent most fears. So what must I do to invoke the power of Meitros and rid myself of this curse? the warrior asked, strangely much calmer after hearing the Old Gods name. When I consulted the elemental spirits, the shaman explained, I was told that you, Waldwulf, must perform the Ritual of Divine Light. This ritual, which was practiced by our ancestors in ancient days, was designed to invoke the power of Meitros in order to cleanse the invoker of all curses especially those of Set! How do I perform this ritual? Waldwulf asked. It must be performed on the Sunnas day at high noon, the shaman explained. But it is only Frijas day, the warrior complained. That is still two days away! What shall I do until then?! If you perform the ritual at the wrong time, or incorrectly, you invoke the wrath of Meitros, who is as just as he is merciful. Until the appointed time, I will teach you the steps of the ritual, and gather what tools we may need for the rite. And so, Waldwulf and the shaman remained in the village for the next two days, and the shaman trained the Wulfing in how to perform the Ritual of Divine Light until

Waldwulf knew it just well as he knew how to track, slay and butcher a stag. The evil power of the curse, however, did not affect the shaman, who had invoked the spirits to protect him from the curse. It was not in his power to protect the young warrior from the powers of the curse, since the curse was already upon him. When the shaman was away, out of the presence of the curse the young warrior felt the full power of that malediction. At night, when the shaman returned to his spells within his hut, the power of the curse took hold of the Wulfing. He was constantly harassed by a continual hissing sound, though no serpents were in his presence, and he grew cold, but sweated as if in a fever. He wrapped himself in furs and shook violently throughout the night. By day he was frightened by visions of serpents, imagining they were here and there, only to find it was all in his mind. Night was far worse, as the warrior tried with all his power to rest, but as he slept he was tormented by nightmares of the snake pit, and the serpent whose teeth he had taken. There were even times when he knew not whether he was sleeping of awake, and the curse had taken his wits and courage as well.

-Part 2No! No, please! I cannot give you your teeth! Let me go! Waldwulf, awaken! It is me, the shaman! The warrior awoke trembling, but when he saw the shaman, he smiled and the nightmare visions left him. What is it, shaman? It is the eve of Sunnas day. The spirits have told me of a place the ritual is to be performed. If we are to get there by noon, we must leave now. Waldwulf, wrapped in fur, emerged from his hut. There was a wooden chest sitting next to the shaman. Waldwulf knew that it contained the tools for the Ritual of Divine Light. The tools were gathered from the shamans own personal collection which possessed the most holy energies after many, many years of use. Though Ive taught you each and every step of the ritual many times, the shaman said, Ive never told you where it must take place, have I? No, you have not, Waldwulf answered. The warrior began following the shaman as he walked southward. The fevered feeling of the curse began to lift from the warrior when the shaman placed the wooden chest in his hands. The shaman explained himself: The place is a cave where, until recently, both Thiotish men and Romans gathered together to worship the God Meitros. It is the only temple to Meitros in the Thiotish lands. You know, in the old tales of Meitros, it was said the God was born in a cave. Those were days long past, though. You see, in a bygone age, more than 5,000 years ago, the common ancestor of the Thiotish and Roman peoples lived. Those are the ones called the men of Aryas. Ive heard tell of them in old legends, Waldwulf said. Well, they worshipped Gods like both those of the Romans and those of the Thiotish, but yet, like neither. The Gods whom we worship are just dim reflections of the Gods worshipped in the Golden Age of Aryopolis. What is Aryopolis? Waldwulf asked. Not is More like was. You see, Aryopolis was the capital of the ancient Aryan kingdom on the Black Sea, before the sea flooded and the Aryans had to flee across the globe. The Gods worshipped by the men of Europa, as well those as in Perse and Indie. The Aryan Gods are worshipped in one form or another across the world. As they walked, they passed into the thick woods. The shaman carried a torch above his head as Waldwulf followed close behind. How do you know all this? Waldwulf asked. The shaman was quiet for a long time. I have never told you my name, have I? the shaman asked. No, Waldwulf said, realizing it for the first time. No one in the tribe seems to know your name. We all just call you the shaman. My name is Bheudhesonta, the shaman said. I possess an herb which is the secret of immortality. It is a privilege restricted to the old Aryan Gods and their close allies. I have given this secret to one of your ancestors, long ago in the days of the great kingdom of Aryopolis. This ancestor has watched over you and your ancestors for thousands of years. I was placed amongst your tribe by this immortal hero while he attends to a quest of cosmic importance. This is a secret, and you must tell no one.

The shaman, Bheudhesonta, stared deep into the eyes of the young warrior. There was an intensity in his expression that expressed the dire need for secrecy. Yes, the Wulfing said. I understand. I swear by the power of Meitros, which you say will set me free of this curse. I swear by Meitros, I will tell no one. I know, Bheudhesonta said with great certainty. You will take this secret to your grave. I can trust you to never tell this secret to anyone. Now, lets go. The two of them continued onward, and eventually day dawned as they climbed up a small cliff. They crossed a vast green field as the sun grew higher, and at last, just before noon, they came into the patch of woods where the Cave of Meitros lay. Bheudhesonta, Waldwulf said, how far are we from the cave? Please, do not grow accustomed to calling me by that name, the shaman said. The cave is not far off. We will get there before noon, and you will have time to set all the proper tools upon the altar before the ritual is to be performed. The men descended through a hilly patch of woods until at last they found the open cave mouth yawning in the midst of the woods. The sun was rising to its zenith as they entered the darkness of the cave The shaman lit his torch once more in the darkness of the cave. The men walked down carven stairs, then through a long corridor before entering a wide cavern. One by one the shaman lit the torches that stood around the cavern, illuminating the interior. Waldwulf approached the altar which stood in the midst of the cavern as the light of the torches revealed the images painted upon the cave walls. The great central image before the altar was the depiction of Meitros as a youth slaying a bull. At the wound that Meitros had cut into the bull's neck, there was a serpent and a hound feeding on the bull's blood. Waldwulf shuddered at the image of the serpent. It also appeared there was a scorpion attacking the bull's genitals. There were also two youths holding torches, one pointing the torch up, and the other pointing it down. The image was surrounded by the zodiac, and in the upper corners there were images of a Sun God and a Moon Goddess. Another scene showed the Sun God feasting with Meitros. The Moon Goddess was also present, as well as the two torch-bearing youths. One of them bore a staff entwined with two serpents. He pointed it at the base of an altar where flames flared up. Another scene showed a naked Meitros rising out of a stone, holding a sword and a torch. Another image depicted a naked man with four wings and the head of a lion. He had a serpent winding around his body, which Waldwulf shuddered upon seeing. The creature in the image held a key and a scepter in his hands, and he stood upon a globe that seemed to represent the earth. "What do these things mean?" Waldwulf asked. "That would take a long time to explain," the shaman said, "and I can tell you later. At this time, you must ready yourself for the task at hand." The warrior opened the chest he had been carrying. He spread the altar cloth over the top of the altar, and then he placed his tools upon the altar. Among them were a chalice, a small bowl, and a dish of brass. He took a small corked bottle of wine, blended with certain herbs, and poured it into the chalice. He opened a cloth package revealing a small white cake, which placed upon the dish. He also took another corked bottle containing water mixed with salt, which he poured in the brass bowl.

There was a single white candle. There was also a censer of brass. The shaman had instructed the Wulfing on how to use the censer. He used a torch to light his candle. He then used a small pair of tongs to hold a coal over the candle until it was lit. He then placed it in the censer. He took a small pouch out of the chest, sprinkling its contents -- a specially-blended incense -- upon the coal. A thick and aromatic smoke poured forth. There was also a silver dagger marked with certain ancient runes. There was a golden cross in the shape of a Tau the symbol of Meitros. There was a bowl, also painted with ancient runes. There was a twig cut from an evergreen tree, and scraps of parchment painted with magic symbols and letters. The young warrior had all his tools placed upon the stone altar, and now he looked at the shaman for the signal to start. The shaman nodded to him. He waved the censer around the cavern to bathe it in the smell of incense, and then he returned it once more to the altar. After that, he dipped the evergreen twig into the bowl of holy water, tracing the cross of Meitros upon his brow and then splashing the water to his right and left. After that, he took up the golden cross of Meitros and faced east, calling forth the powers of air. He turned south and called the powers of fire. He turned west, calling the powers of water, and then north to call the powers of earth. He looked up and called on the Gods, and then looked down, calling on the powers of the dead. After that, he held the cross high above him, and called on Meitros: "Great Meitros, whose light is the light of the first on, I ask you to shine your holy light upon me. I have been trapped in a deep darkness, and I ask that you free me from the evils that beset me. As you have died and risen again, I take into me the essence of your being in this sacred meal. Bless me with your power, and crush the ancient serpent that wishes to do me harm. I am a son of the power of light, living in your holy presence. Bathe me in your light as I partake in this, the essence of your being. After that, he took up the cross of Meitros and traced certain holy signs over the wine and the bread, reciting an old Aryan incantation: Maghos bhas apo Meitros, sakdhes de. It seemed to the man that a beam of light poured down from above, filling the wine and the bread with holy power. Waldwulf ate the small white cake and then drank the wine. After that, he felt a sudden surge of power entering his body. At last, he took up the silver dagger, pointing it into the air. Lord Meitros, I call on your power! I give you a measure of my blood as a sign of my dedication. Egh apo me do bhi bhas apo Meitros! The man held his right arm over the gold cross of Meitros. He cut into his arm with the dagger, allowing the blood to fall onto the cross. It hissed and bubbled as it fell onto the cross. Next, Waldwulf took the fangs from his pouch. He wrapped them in the parchments that bore the magical signs, and then he lit the parchments, throwing them, with the fangs, into the bowl marked with magic signs. Meitros! he called out. Take from me the dark power that lies within the objects I have given to the fire. Bhatos Angwi kom ues bhas! Waldwulf was not fully prepared for what came next. A bright fire flashed from the bowl, and Waldwulf knew not if what he saw next had actually occurred before him, or if it only took place within his mind. He saw a tall man in white robes, with long curly hair and a long beard, both of brightest gold. He held a staff and a sword. Waldwulf knew this figure to be Meitros himself. Another figure appeared a large and monstrous serpent,

whom Waldwulf knew to be Set. The serpent rose up before the tall God, and lunged at him, but the God batted the creature aside. The serpent lunged again, and again, the God batted it aside with his staff. Once more the serpent lunged at the God, and this time, the God took his sword and beheaded the serpent. There was another flash of light, and the two combatants were gone. Waldwulf searched the bowl, but the fangs were gone! The young warrior packed all the ritual tools back into the chest. The ritual had worked. Waldwulf knew in the very core of his being that the curse was no more. Waldwulf and the shaman left the cave and headed back toward the village. Well, what have you learned? the shaman asked. I definitely wont be so hasty when it comes to killing the creatures and priests of ancient and vile Gods, Waldwulf said. Always taking violence as the first recourse in a conflict is not the best idea. I agree, the shaman said. A warrior like you should not deal with such things as ancient sorcery. That is more my domain than yours. I know, Waldwulf said. After this incident, I want nothing to do with sorcery. That is well, the shaman said. You Kazza are a tribe of warriors. You live in a simple way not by magic, but by the sword. I was never like the Kazza are, and fighting was never my way. You are a hero of the Wulfing line. Magic does not become you. The men walked across a wide field. Shaman? Waldwulf said. Yes? That battle between Meitros and Set did you see it? What you mean to ask the shaman said, is whether it was only in your mind, or if it occurred before you. Yes, the warrior replied. It occurred in a realm that is both within you, and before you. I can sense such things, but most cannot. It was not a physical occurrence. Meitros did not kill Set, but those figures you saw were representations of the struggle within you. Waldwulf was not entirely sure of what this meant. The men continued on, and by midnight they reached the village. Waldwulf said goodbye to the shaman as he entered his hut. After that adventure, Waldwulf wanted nothing to do with sorcery. He led a simple life from then on. He wedded a simple girl from his own tribe, and he went on to father the great hero Reginhart. He had adventures of his own, but they are stories for a different time. As for Waldwulf, he lived a long and happy life, and did not involve himself too much in magic, religion, or any otherworldly matter. Even upon his deathbed, at an old, old age, he did not give a single thought to the hereafter, and it seems he was far better off because of that.