Turiel, the Hero Immemorial

The way Turiel carried his massive stature was a matter of public spectacle. His feats of strength were sometimes put to good use but often bled into showmanship. The praise people showered him with seemed to sustain the angel almost as equally as food or air.

Many came to seek the mighty Turiel’s favor. They hailed him from afar at the common grounds and sought to catch a glimpse of him preparing his hunting party. Gifts of food and gold were brought to curry favor. Weapons and jewelry were brought in his honor whenever they could be spared. Those that truly impressed him were made a part of his story, a grand tale where each night, was a feast, each drink was a toast and each lover, a grand affair.

Turiel, Angel of the Mountain

Here I remain,
under a mountain made of many hands,
all reaching and all taking.

I press my body closer to that which I must keep.
It is mine and I will shield it from the misery of other hands.

I can feel their gaze fall on it like an avalanche.

They diminish it with the weight of their indurate eyes.

But it is mine and so I will bury it in the shadow of my protections.

Their greed feeds my convictions,
So here I remain.

Here I remain under a mountain of screaming fury.

How they try to convince me to share with them
That which they are not worthy of.

“It is not yours!”
I say and say with rage boiling in my breast.

Their voices press on me,,
Hot like the sun and fogging my vision.

But there is something familiar,
Something I’ve forgot.

Here I remain,
under a mountain of mirrors.