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Jaguar God

A Tale of Fire & essence of Blood

Script by Elan Rey

Cover Artwork by Frank Frazetta

Jaguar Knight proverb 2:47

Life is a battle and the Spirit is warrior

Enter the Arena …
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In answer to the calling of magic against

magic
In answer to the calling of the path of
the spirit
Comes
An Epic Graphic Novel
Book 1 of the Resplendent Dragon Series

A Frazetta Tribe Vulcan Forge

Production

Jaguar god
Origins
Published by Frazetta Tribe
Frazettatribe@gmail.com
Canada 1 647 381 9147 whats app friendly
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This book is an interactive graphic novel. Meaning if

anyone is creatively inspired or motivated to draw
herein characters or scenes. They may. And it is
possible if selected that those characters or scenes will
appear in our revamped, first, or following issues.
We are also looking for writers.

Jungle girl by Frank Frazetta

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The Hidden Scrolls of the Purple Mantle

The hidden scrolls make known what has gone

before, and foretells what will come to be, that which

is above and below, that which can live in between. It

is a window to see the roots of how and why the

pantheon of The Jaguar Knights was made. It is one

thing to bear witness to a battle and say I can testify

that I have seen. It’s another thing though to know

the forces or the causes, behind the War.

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Hidden Scrolls of the Purple Mantle… Stanza 1

Light and dark are two necessary elements for

creation that balance each other. The seed is buried in the
dark only to later stretch forth its branches or arms like
wings and rise up out of it. Its roots though were born in
the dark and continue to harness the light of the rain and
sky. Sending these forces deeper and deeper into,
stabilizing, the core of the planet.
Problems persist when people attempt to use such
forces of the light or dark to establish false thrones.
Thrones that will eventually crack and can bury its
dweller beneath the mounds of rubble and ash.

fin of stanza 1
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Stanza 2
Blood of the first spirit in the house of the King…
Know this... The War that rages on and on and has for
countless centuries is between the Black Dragon and the
White Dragon. Which is symbolic of what the race of
humankind carries within its interior.
1, The corroded darkness of ignorance… the Black
apocalyptic Beast or 2
The resplendent light of wisdom. The White Dragon
It is chiseled into the very heart of the red woods on the
purple mantle,
In life the legions of the Black Horde and their malice
need but one thing and that is, “Death!”
Amidst the plumes of smoke and the burning flames…
The Jaguar God cometh.
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Intro
Once, there was a land pure and clean. Harmony and
peace roamed freely upon its face.
People lived with kindness and joy in abundance but with
the changing of the ages, came a writhing snake in the
form of a python that clutched at the hearts of man turning
them cold like ice, bitter and self absorbed.
That abomination known as the ‘Temptor’, stretched
forth taloned wings and exhaled a ghastly flame that
strove to violate souls seeking wisdom.
In a valley of tears, humanity cried out that a blood race
be formed that could invoke its opposite- the
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‘Redemptor’; that goddess of wisdom and magical

powers, and have the ancient ways restored.
Angels and Rulers from high heavens then gilded
themselves as human knights to overthrow the Skull
Kings, sorcerous wizards of the Black Horde.

Ultimately though it is only the masses themselves

that can make the greater difference when they
choose right action over false honor.
Here then is the legend of valor of the brave souls
who still struggle against the bestial legions which
can find hiding in the dark corners of the hearts of
man.
And in their inward journey the souls of the
virtuous come to discover a treasury of light…
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Maps of the internal planes, meaning the

infradimensions or the 'supradimensions' often
referred to as heavens and hells can be found on
page ____ of this book
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Location of Events

PLANE Earth

Region: Santahara Kingdom

Epoch: Late Atlantean – Reptilian - Pre Aryan

A million and a half years after the Luciferic and

serpentine fall of the watchers & angels from their
Edenic state. Also known as, The plunge from the
supradimensions into the infernal abyss.
Pic: Stone calendar of the cycles of the ages and
races on 'Earth. Inhabiting the planet from the first
dawn until the Fifth and present Root Race.
Explanation of figures drawn on the stone:

Number Figure Element

1 Jaguar Fire

2 Monkey Earth

3 Eagle Air

4 Fish Water

5 Human Ether
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Aztec Calendar . Depicting races

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It is written the first root race which is the

the Jaguar root race never fell. That they were
devoured by fire, the wisdom of the flames of
love. They mastered the flames and became
untouchable. Which is to say they conquered
death and even to this day no daemonic force
can assault them.
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2 Hypoboreans

The 2nd root race called the Hypoboreans had its

solar deities in is golden age. The ascended ones
mastered the element earth. Each root race has
seven sub races. As time grew, wth the coming of
the copper and iron age there was a brutal
degeneration. A mixing, a crossing with a beastlike
primate. In the end the entire human race except for
the chosen stock that would go on to create the
Lemurian root race, perished by being swallowed
up by the force of the Earthquakes.
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3 Lemurians

With the dawning of the 3rd root race, the land of

Lemuria was great and majestic. Their races were
masters of the sexual flame. They were totally
elevated but eventually as the wheel of time turned
to the Bronze Age they gave in to the fire of desire.

It should be noted that in the Edenic garden are

always two serpents of different modalities at
work. 1 The ascending serpent of love that
transforms humanity into ascended masters of the
elements mind and soul. Angels of the heights

or

2. The serpent of infernos which can transform

human kind into non-human kind. Vile creatures
with the human consciousness subjected by an
infrahuman ego.

Thus those who understood the law, ascended.

Disgracefully though the Adamic and Eve peoples,
the great continent of them, were tricked by the
crooked serpent. They fell to the inclinations of the
beast. The Adamic and Eve race were devoured by
the winds, the fitful and roiling airs of tornadoes.
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4 Atlantean

Next came the fourth. The Atlantean root race.

They were giants of three meters in stature.
Technologically evolved and some manned
spacecraft in hyper-light speed. As of the norm,
again there was no problem in the gold and silver
ages. The Bronze Age wasn't so bad but with dawn
of the Iron Age ….

With rumor of a coming flood an exodus was

created for the best seeds, the prime stock of the
fifth root race was put into motion. They settled in
heights of the Himalayas to avoid the deluge. The
earth was then covered by the rains and hail. The
waters of the oceans and the great tsunamis. Even
the great pyramid and sphinx of the Atlantean
Empire was swallowed by the flood. There to
remain at the bottom of the oceans for thousands
of years as the planet purged itself.
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Arian

The fifth root race begat in the mountainous

regions of the land known now as Tibet, and they
reined there in peace and longevity for a great
span of the cosmic wheel. Tibetans then were the
first blood, the first sub race of the fifth root race.
Hence the first nation and first tongue after the
Atlantean worldly flood.

The masters of the now present root race, the 'fifth'

will conquer the highest aspects of the ether.

Also called the fourth parallel.

Hyperspace
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Jaguar god
Origins

Time in History:

Late and degenerated Atlantean

Corruption is on the rise.

Reining elder authentic Godheads in the four

corners of the planet are:
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Nordic, Giants led by Odin in the North

Art piece by Viking Mike

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Mayan, KulKuKan in the Southern hemisphere

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Osiris Ra pantheon in the far East

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The Emergence of early first Christian pagans and their

goddess Sofia in Central Eastern plains.
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Geichy Manitou in the West

4 points
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In order for the virginal spark of life to grow, free in

its expression and virtue, the demon horde that plagues
the land, must die!
Since ancient of days a genie has conferred its fiery
power to those whom it has tried and have proven to
work in accordance with the sacred ways of creation.
The creative waters of life.

This time the spirit comes in secret, a hybrid warrior. An

initiate born of a rare mixture of the tribes of the Jaguar
and Black Panther clans.

His campaign as destiny has bestowed it, is to free

from the Rancan Priests his captured bride to be, the
lovely but lethal Eshana, high priestess of the Jaguar
Goddess and her nameless God.
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Eshana Victor Sáenz

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To slay the ways of the unholy and his own demons

in his interior he has yet to discover and unravel the
clues to the magic sword gifted to him by his betrothed,
a vestal virgin of her goddess being realized in flesh
and sacred blood.

Ceaselessly he will pit himself and his legion of

gathering crusaders against the Black Horde and its
pestilence until the very last tear of sorrow or pain of
his Kin has dried.
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Jaguar God
Chapter 1
Summons of Wisdom
On a land where the only way to live
is as an elevated warrior… but for that
one even needs to know the ancient code.
With the coming of the dawn, not so far away, a
day’s ride from the foothills of Eagles Cleft, there is
movement in the brush.
In the depths of the mighty jungle underneath the
canopies and sky reaching boughs of an ancient rain
forest that the indigenous tribes call, ‘The Heart of the
World’, the lone figure of a youthful man, strong and
powerful, a razor sharp sword strapped alongside his
back with its tip pointed heavenward, walks upon the
rich and fertile earth. In a sheath strapped against a hip
and tied around a thigh, lies a vulture head onyx
pommelled dagger.
A thinly furred spotted pelt covers his head down
to his nose leaving just above it to either side, catlike
eye slits. Two strips of fur fall lightly to his muscle
bound chest. A small carved sabretooth crystal skull, an
assortment of sewn together polished bones, rough
claws and spiked teeth adorns his black entwined cat gut
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necklace. Around back a flap of the panther skin hangs

just below his neck, braided then at its end into a short
tail.
Thanok Malakai as he was christened by his tribe
steps around or pushes away large leafy branches that
encumber his direct path. His battle skirt also of great
cat hide hangs on his waist in loose cut pieces. Soft
leather undecorated boots with hardened soles pads the
soil below him.
He had been waiting intensely for a sign and had
received summons by the ancient one. He whose
wisdom stretched beyond the time when the earth was
but a seed, an idea or vision in the mind of a ‘Maha
Cohan’, also defined in other tongues as an, ‘Elohim’ or
'Cosmo creator'.
Navigating around a series of waterfalls, steam
rising high above him, condensations furling down
wetting like dew drops his dark sun tanned arms, the
warrior soon comes upon the humble clay and straw hut
that serves as a sage’s dwelling place.
The Eldar whose doorway is only half as tall as
he, bows to exit and emerges straightening his back with
a snap and a crack. Girt with only a white cloth around
his mid-section, a couple chiseled scars and burnt
tattoos on his thin veiny arms, he extends a bony hand
and the warrior grasps it, brings it to his head as is
custom. He hears the words, “We belong to each other.”
“We belong to each other” he confirms.
“The wings of the winds have called you to serve the
pure of heart and the innocent.”
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“I am ready to give the last drop of my blood if need

be.” comes the reply. “Tell me old one who is
responsible?”
“No lips have spoken to my ears, yet I have beheld in
the internal planes, Rancan black horde priests of the
Stygian empire are behind the raid of your village, one
of several as of late the black army has executed. Now
you must be prepared for your inner journey to sharpen
and blazon your steel, the only way to save your wife to
be, and the descendants of our clan…”
“My Inner Journey?” he huffs, “Right now my steel
only wants to slake its thirst cutting through scull,
blood, teeth, and bone.”
“Yes but for that you will need to tap into your strength
and your powers primal as they are, refine them.”
Who are these raiders? ” Thanok asks in urgency. Why
though by the father of all fathers could this have
happened, I was but a half a day’s journey away?”
The old one reflects, waits a moment, “Their numbers
were great. You would have died like many have,
attempting to save loved ones. Perhaps it is best that
you were not there. Now at least you can lead a revolt
against the Skull Kings who are the militant body of
the Rancan Priests and their horrid ways.
“You have asked, therefore I must tell you clearly that
my people, though their essence is pure and they seek
only harmony with the land and its divinity, still they
are a fallen people that have not realized the virtuous
powers they possess.
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In many ways they are still but a primitive tribe,

mentally, emotionally, and sexually. ”
His novice disciple nods, as the truth comes clear.
Though given the message and rituals of ascension
only a percentage of the clan practiced the rites
diligently to purify the mind, body, soul and sex in all
aspects…
‘My daughter Eshana who has revealed some of the
sacred ways of power to you, is an elevated Being. But
even she could not foresee the ruin that has come.”
“And what of you ancient one? Why did you not
foresee this?” Malakai wonders aloud.
“Though I understand the vulnerability of any tribe
and work towards minimalizing and eliminating it, I
can only do so much. The looking glass of my vision
is only open to see what the Great One KulKulKan
reveals. I am sworn and locked to him as his vessel.
Amongst other jewels Eshana has the gift of seeing,
but as in any battle sometimes the light is obscured by
the dark.
Silence reigns.
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Chapter 2
The Afternoon before

Horde on the Move

PLACE: Mountain range of the Santahara Kingdom

A rock shelf that connects Eagle # Crest to Wolf

Mountain.

Something is astir, something amiss. A youthful

envoy dressed in hammered leather armor saunters
forward between two long rows of soldiers who stand
there protecting the dirt road to the tent of Ghoulaind, the
Skull King chief and army commander. The boy gently
ruffles the feathers on the neck of his deviant hawk-
vulture perched on a thick suede patch wrapped about his
bare arm. At length the emissary comes to an extra-large
tent where spears outthrust, royal guards pan out thickly
along its sides. From one of the sergeants, a call drifts
inwards, “Soul Despiser". In moments ‘Ghoulaind’ he
who represents the demon of the mind, comes out.
Casting blood shot eyes on the boy, he stands there
for a moment adorned in a black and red vertically striped
robe. A brass buckled belt fashioned into an unearthly
animal of pestilence is strapped about his waist. Engraved
into a metal band about his upper left arm is a locust. A
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raised cowl resting on his head reveals a grim and ugly

countenance.
Sixty abused years of age, he’s looking every
worn minute of it. His facial skin, dark like the nomads
of the deserts hangs loose. From the edges of his lips,
sharp folds of his greasy flesh resembling thin incisors
descends to an area past his Adam apple. He addresses
the boy, the magus`s mouth smelling likened unto a
communal spit bucket, “I’ve been anticipating your
arrival.”
“I come as an envoy for high priest Dalsuruin.”
The boy bows.
“Ah yes, my comrade at arms, inform him that our
forerunners have made it to the foothills of Wolf
Mountain. Send word that upon the morrow, the Keep
will be in our grasp. The winged werehounds have been
sent for as he has instructed.”

With a concern that all is indeed in order, the boy

presses, “I gather, the were-beasts are ensorcelled by the
black arts, and made from homo sapien stock?”
Ghoulaind assures him, “Nothing but the worst.”
He elaborates, “By embryonic stem cells we’ve managed
to mix the human species with the bloodlines of the bat,
canine and elephant bull. The raving werebeasts have
come from none other than those injected slaves who
have been seduced in following the left hand path of
darkness.” He laughs cynically to himself, "The path of
the beast." Ghoulaind spits a wad of snot to the ground.

A crooked smile stretches across the envoys face,

“Dalsuruin will be pleased.” He kneels, scribbles foreign
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letters on leather parchment, attaches it to the

hawkvulture’s leg and sets it to the sky. It flies helm level,
for a short time, between the two rows of soldiers
standing at attention marking the pathway, and then veers
up, till it is high above the temporary encampment.
Catching one of the several drifting winds, it glides
heading towards Galganth, a morbid citadel leagues
beyond the Mountain of the Wolf…
Ghoulaind turns and enters the tent where torches
attached to wooden poles burn thickly. Their plumes of
smoke gyrate, escape high above via holes made by the
folded back canvas. A small brazier of glowing coals
burn a musky incense. The dirt floors have been leveled
plane. Richly designed woolen rugs cover them. The
black magus enters a silky section of his private quarters.
He pauses at an altar statue and gives praise to his master
known as Orlrugan, the lord of the locusts or as he is
sometimes called, ' The infernal majesty'.
Ghoulaind pushes past another set of velour
curtains and comes upon eleven black-cowled wizards
standing in a straight line across the tents center.
Krushular, the Grand Wizard amongst them, stands, head
bowed in humility, arms folded tightly about his chest.
Ghoulaind addresses them, “United Brothers of the
horde’s coven, the apocalyptic siege has begun. It is only
a matter of time before the spoils of the Santahara
kingdom are divided amongst us. We outnumber and
outrank the warriors of fire. But beware, we know not
fully the spirit or power behind the Keep where Elias
dwells. Krushular!”
The grand wizard steps forward, leaving the ten
lead magician others in line, “At your service.”
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“Prepare a regiment of soldiers to ride ahead of us.

You will be in charge of using the hellish arts.”
“They will be readied at once!” Krushular
confirms.
“Clamor then to the cliff's edges of Eagle Crest
and search its hills. My next rite requires the slaughter of
a priestess of the light. One from the kundalini sect in
fact. Choose a handful of allies to mix your brew.”
Krushular unwraps a hooded mask from about his
head, “By the devil Orlrugan we will find you your
heathen witch.”
“Best be it so.” Ghoulaind says flatly, eyes burning
tough as steel.
“I request eight other wizards just in case.”
“In case of what?” His brow curls to that of a
knifepoint, “You can’t handle a white priestess of eagle
crest?”
A ball of sweat appears on Krushular’s forehead,
begins to slide down its wrinkled surface and he swallows
hard. “You have more than enough soldiers with you,
albeit we enter an inhospitable domain. We magi are the
ones that have the capacity to pick up her scent then sniff
her out."
Soul Despiser hmmns to himself as if thinking out
loud, “Then take your pick.” he says flicking his hand at
the group of wizards. "But fail me not or your tasks in the
black horde will be reduced to that of a goat keeper!"
To be continued
The other ten wizards take off their cowls revealing
pallid blank faces, grim, dead to the world… Like their
emotions have only been fed by brutality, dominance and
slaughter. ..
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Commencing their march to Wolf Mountain,

militants make final preparations packing beasts of
burden and saddle up their horses.
The Skull King Wizard Krushular, his left hand
man Tursant and two other wizards exit a grand tent.
They mount their steeds and with two military squads, a
handful of crossbow armed assassins, ride off into the
arched darkening blue skylight.
Leagues away in a grotto of the city of Galganth,
on a rocky crag a werebeast in the form of a hound,
feeling an itch, twists its head biting into one of its thorny
leathern wings. It rapidly digs in further until it finds the
source of its discomfort, an overgrown parasite
resembling a tic. The hound crunches it in its massive
fore-teeth, breaking its hard shell, pinning its flesh
between two inescapable fangs. Thereafter discarding the
shell, it momentarily enjoys the reeking morsel.
The werebeast is not fully canine, it has a human
thigh; others of his kin, a human leg or arm. A pack of
them race to, then over a promontory ridge, barking
through foam caked mouths. Howling amidst the flapping
sounds of their hairy wings.
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A prayer of the Damsels in Wait

The fire of the blood of the White Dragon renews

nature continuously
As it did in the predawn. As it does now
And shall forever more in the Vulcans Forge.

Our King, let the gates of the temples in your heights

open and pour forth their vials as to descend upon the
corrupted legions.
That their venom stings no more against the hearts of
the bloodline to come.

Jaguar God

Frazetta Tribe Origins

Axes by Steve Otis. Digital touch, Alexandre Sande
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Stanza 3 of the Hidden Scrolls of the Purple Mantle

Regarding the nature of Orlrugan, AKA (also

known as) fearless leader:

It is not refuted that demons have certain types of

powers in hell and sometimes on the surface of the earth.
But what is being stated, logged and clarified in this
stanza is that the present religious figure of the Black
Horde army, ‘Orlrugan by name is not the head of
demons as many have come to think. Actually ‘Orlrugan
was simply a name made up by a bored Black Horde in a
latter day. Eldar times to be more concise. It was an
attempt which actually worked to some degree, to
personify a leader for the Dark Side. Personify a character
people could identify with.
It is written ‘All Beings originate from the creator,
the King of the flames.’ end of quote.

On the other hand though the concept of Orlrugan

came from ideas of intellectual animals falsely called
man. It is also written that there’s a big difference
between that which proceeds from the creator and that
which proceeds from the mind of man.
By and by though throughout time eventually a
young misguided youth called Dalhan named himself,
‘Orlrugan’
He even established a sect and there in his
community a large following of people believed him to
be Orlrugan, infernal king in the flesh.
Hence in an attempt to cash in on the fame and due
to his karmic transgressions against humanity upon his
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death at fifty years of age, Dalhan found literally himself

in the pit of hell, suffering the insufferable. Albeit in
infernos with his limited powers he still had a slim
connection to some of his followers.
That humanoid continued to carry on the charade
of possessing power and riches, at times talking to people
on the surface of the planet. In actuality though he or in
this case it could be better said 'IT', was little more than
an overgrown maggot, a filthy larva, decomposing in the
bowels of the earth; leaving a trail of slime sometimes six
inches thick where it wormed its way on the dungeon
floor where ‘IT’ was kept.

A point that might be observed is that the level of

which Dalhan reached, who would then be called
Orlrugan was but that of an intellectual animal.
A person that never ever even acquired the
awakened human conscious and its supra-powers nor the
angelic state.

An increasing amount of people though were

stupid enough to consider him their fearless leader. A
fallen angel. These same people imagining riches in hell,
when losing their own physical body, (at death) would
soon learn the ugly truth about that which they bowed
before. They would meet and share the same cell as their
master… End of stanza 3
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ESHANA
Priestess of the flame

What has passed the night before

Eshana Sumaren, a young virgin woman of

eighteen years, sits peacefully on her mattress made from
wild straw packed into cotton bedding. A mighty wind
curls down from the adjacent mountain, beats against her
small homestead settled on Eagle Crest, the beams and
wooden roof tiles creaking aloud. Her parents are settling
in for the night, concocting an herbal brew below on the
main floor. The thought of them comes to mind and she
considers how deeply she loves them, how they had
nurtured her in the ways of the Great One. How they had
taught her the traits of being a warrior of peace. Never to
use her powers to hurt others.
The single candle on the mahogany night table
flickers as Eshana meditates on her own Spirit. She puts
her soul in humble service to her Innermost. Calming her
mind to its natural state, it becomes controllable by her
will, her mind becomes receptive, quiet and still like the
surface of a pond that has no ripples. She shifts her
attention to her heart and listens there for the voice in the
silence, the voice and will of her own father in the
heights, her real Being. Then to her inner eye, comes a
vision of turquoise blue waters, a red, brown, and yellow
coral reef. She enjoys the sight which calms her even
more.
 40

The day is Saturday, the day ruled by the god

Saturn, which is the same Elohim known as Orifiel, Lord
of death and magic; the seventh spirit before the throne
of god who opens the seventh seal, mentioned in the
Hidden Scrolls of the Purple Mantel. It further states
Elohim are also called Archangels or Maha Cohans.
As Eshana’s vision continues to unravel she finds
herself lying on a bone white beach beside a great ocean,
and there she beholds in the heights, a vault opening wide
to reveal the workings of the gods. Three choirs of
winged angels, dressed in raiments of pure light, sing an
anthem of praise and glory unto the highest. They sing
holy holy holy blessed and sacred be his
unpronounceable name, Lord of Sabaoth…
The contours of the venerable Elohim Orifiel come
into being. Adorned in a black gown of a most deadly
reaper, his hood covers his faceless head and he bears in
his right hand, a razor sharp scythe. In his left bony palm,
is a wooden cased hourglass. This he turns over, placing
it on a radiant glass table. The sands of time sift, slipping
through the pin-sized hole between the two bulbs of glass.
To a side there is a large see-through vat and in it
something red is coming to boil. The venerable master
Orifiel walks to a yellow cubic stone as high as his waist.
In the stones center gleams a sword, its handle held fast
in the masonry while its keen edge points upwards. He
puts aside the scythe and exposes a fleshy arm. This he
slides ever so slightly across the swords edge and where
he graces the blade a small line of his skin parts, the red
liquid vessels of his life force coming to its surface. He
holds out the wound and it drips blood onto the stone.
 41

The heaven in which he exists, then becomes

agitated, a tremor separates the blood into smaller pools
which run as rivulets descending the cubic stone to a
creamy white marble dais. The blood runs in streams to a
set of chiseled clear crystal stairs and then down one by
one, the light growing and shinning exceedingly with
each step. Finally the growing web of red vessels reach a
floor of smooth polished alabaster, and there it becomes
likened unto a crimson lake, which slowly drips from the
heaven into the corporeal world. As it does so, the blood
transforms into fire, red and orange with tinges of yellow
and deep blue flame. The living fire dribbles, and then
rains. As its force precipitates upon the ocean’s surface
by which Eshana rests, the points of light send up geysers
of steam, twisting and pluming, blossoming outwards,
into cascading crescents. A drop of flame strikes Eshana
in the forehead and with its gift; she can see again the god
Orifiel who says from behind his cowl aloft, “Stay true,
to the faith.” incrementally the whole scene dissolves,
vanishes from sight and she’s left alone again on the
beach…

Her eyes open. Her back is against the wall and she
sits cross legged on the straw bed. Fatigued, Eshana then
curls up into a ball and sleeps soundly, a soft moan
escaping from her lips.
 42

Deeper into the Evening

Father of Eshana.., Jerosan Sumaren by name, a man in

his seventies, sits relaxing with his wife Geiyana, who’s
but a tad younger than he. They are about to settle in for
the night. He gulps down the last mouthful of his
dandelion root tea, savoring the flavor of the mixed honey
at the bottom of his pewter cup. Suddenly and directly
across from where he is located an axe chops through the
center of his front door. . .
To be continued;
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Jaguar Moon by Charles Keegan

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Jaguar God Art by its Original Creator

Frank Frazetta