Before the Saga The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise

The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise

A Star Wars Epic Poem

Written by: Michael K. Brennan

A Framed Narrative

Characters:
(outside narrative)
Master Francis Ovair - retired Sith Historian and Jedi farmer
Rebecca: Jedi Padawan

(inside narrative)
StarCrow - Sith Lord
Solomon - Messiah / Lord of the Force

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Dedicated to Professor Harold Bloom:

Dear Professor Bloom, this is my second attempt at engaging with my anxiety of influence. Please accept this humble poetic offering as a thank-you for being my teacher and precursor.

Warmest Regards,
Michael K. Brennan

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For a long time the old Jedi Master knew his moral weakness lay in the love of his books. The news of Master Scopian’s death spurred him to finally do what he knew he need to. That morning, working in the fields with the Agricorps padawan, he resolved to burn all of his Sith literature. He knew the texts he had were redundant. His personal library of Sith knowledge already existed in the Jedi archives on Coruscant. He knew holding on to his own scribed copies was an act of vanity. He knew deep down he was in love with his own knowledge, and a part of him had become like the Sith magicians of old – hoarders of “secret” knowledge. He knew it was time to let go of material things that were weighing him down.

He was only passingly sad at the news of his old master’s death. ‘There is no death, there is only the Lord of the Force’ he said to himself. He knew he and his master would unite again in the Son of Sun’s kingdom.

The afternoon sun was in the middle of its decline when the old Jedi master made the short walk from the edge of the wheat fields to the monastery. He had left the group of padawans with Master Menkalin, who was leading them in meditation amongst the planted grain. They used their Force powers to collectively hum and sing to the wheat through the Force, their intent to multiply the yield. The grain was destined for the colony of New Veldt – a settlement of Cathar who were suffering from a terrible drought. That is what the Jedi farmers of the third moon of Satio did – they used their abilities to cultivate and grow crops to feed the hungry and those in need in the universe. And there were many other monasteries like them.

The old Jedi Master retired to Satio 30 years ago to live a life he thought more worthy. Though he wasn’t unhappy in his previous vocation as a seeker and translator of Sith texts, and he knew he had used his gift in the Force wisely for the greater good, deep down he had always wanted to be a farmer. At the age of 70, when he had finally walked away from his life as an archivist and translator of Sith literature, he sought the most quiet farming community on the furthest reaches of the outer rim to retire to.

He was well pleased with what he chose. His outdoor farming life was different from his indoor scholarly one. Large spans of his archivist career consisted of him holed up in the Jedi annals with his master translating and scribing. Even though his work was intellectually stimulating, his mind would still wander to thoughts of the green pastures and cloudy days of a farmer.

Though his life as a scholar wasn’t all patient scribing shut behind doors and walls. From time to time he and his Master did field work, which consisted of finding obscure Sith texts in old personal collections – collections put together by purveyors of all things “dark.” But such excursions were rare, and for the most part free from adventure and excitement.

All of this was going through his mind as he got closer to a small wooden door in the back of the monastery, his final goal his hermitage for a nap.

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Leaving the light of the field and entering the dimness of the monastery’s stone walls, a padawan popped out from one of the doors along the hall and saddled up next to the old man. She matched his slow strides, and he smiled at the sight of her.
“Master Francis, would you be able to help me with something in the dining hall?” she asked innocently.

Rebecca, a Padawan recently arrived to the Agricorps, had become one of the old Master’s favorites since her arrival some months ago. She was a lovely girl of fourteen, with fair skin and light brown curls. Though she was all smiles now, she was quite distraught when the council assigned her to the Agricorps, a fact that upset the old master. He believed the current culture of the Jedi Order placed too much emphasis on the martial skills of a Jedi, and on his last trip to Coruscant he had openly criticized Grand Master Coven for it.

“Of course my child” replied the old man. The Padawan took his large hand and led him to the hall. She sheepishly smiled when he called her child, and looked around for the Monastery’s Abbot to materialize from nowhere to censure the elder. Francis had been chastised by the Abbot before, a Jedi many decades his junior, for referring to the padawans as ‘his children’, saying the term of endearment challenged the first tenant of the Jedi code: There is no emotion; there is peace.
“Terms of endearment and the creation of familial feelings can unbalance our emotional state Master Francis, and in turn give rise to our passions. It is alright to feel them, but as you know only learned Master Jedi can handle these emotions properly. My concern is that the Padawans may become too attached to you.” The Abbot would lecture.

Master Francis would simply nod at the Abbot when he corrected him, solemnly bobbing his head in agreement with whatever he said. The truth was that the Abbot, in his youth, was once the apprentice of Francis’ twin brother, and though he did not admit it, loved the old man the way the Padawans did, and considered him the closest thing he had to a father.

Francis knew the Abbot was simply projecting his own concern for his own feelings of attachment. But Francis stilled loved him, like he loved Rebecca, and took the Abbot’s gentle admonishment with humility and grace.
Francis watched the girl as she led him to the dining hall, enjoying her youthfulness like a loving grandfather, when suddently he felt a ripple in the Force as she opened the door.

 

“SURPRISE!” Bellowed the collected multitude.

“AH-HA!” cried Francis, “indeed, you have surprised me! What is this?”
“Your birthday party Master Francis!” said Rebecca. “Master Abbot searched your file, and has been planning this celebration for nearly a year. Are you really surprised?” The question was asked in earnest. She asked because she wondered if such a legend of the Jedi Order could really be surprised by a birthday party.

“Yes my dear, I was truthful when I said I was surprised.”

“Oh” she said.
“I am an old man you know. I have slowed down some. But only a little.” He winked at her. The Padawan smiled and faded into the background as all the Agricorp Jedi began to surround the old Master to congratulate him on his longevity.

“A full century!” Said Adnor, one of the many force-blessed Ho’din botanists who actively sign up for the Agricorps. “Not many humans make it this far”

“Indeed Adnor, I am a lucky man”. The friends hugged.

The dining hall had been decorated with streamers and balloons. A large sign hung on the back wall over the massive hearth saying ‘Happy 100th Birthday Master Francis’. There was food and a cake. Even six members of the council had arrived to celebrate with the Jedi farmers. What was usually a quiet stone and wood monastery reserved for silent meditation and contemplation from labour in the fields became a joyful and jubilant party filled with genuine love and appreciation for the old Jedi. Truly, Adnor was correct. Not many humans make it to their 100th birthday.

After the celebration was through, and the food eaten, and the many glasses of wine drunk, and the handshakes, hugs, and speeches were complete, could Francis begin to pull himself away from his friends and head towards what he so desperately desired many hours ago: a nap in his hermitage. To be sure, Jedi or not, he was now a one-hundred year-old man and required many hours of rest.
‘A man growing old becomes a child again’, he remembered his old Master telling him. ‘Like a child the old man is in need of sleep. Youth sleep. The old sleep. But the middle aged man is awake for many years at once. The middle aged man works tirelessly to better his world, his community. Then, he will rest like a child once again.’
“Yes, rest” Francis said to himself.

Rebecca followed the old man out of the hall and slid herself under his arm. “May I walk you to your hermitage Master?” she asked.
“Of course.”

They made their way down the dimly lit stone-walled hallway towards Francis’ room.

“Are you packed and ready to go?” He asked her.

“Yes Master. It’ll be nice to go back to the temple for a few days and see all my friends. The Remembrance Day celebration is one of my favorite holidays.”

Remembrance Day was near, and the Jedi farmers of Satio, along with most other Jedi in the Order, would begin to make their way to Coruscant to remember the many Sith wars from eons past. Grand Master Sunrider institutionalized the first Remembrance Day celebration to memorialize the Jedi Order’s victory over Exar Kun and his apprentice Ulic Qel-Droma millennia ago. Since then, there have been many more destructive conflicts with the Sith. Grand Master Sunrider’s initial commemoration now includes all of the victories the Jedi Order and the Republic share over the Sith, including the Republic’s victory over the Sith Emperor who sacked Coruscant. Unlike Grand Master Sunrider’s victory, that war dragged over many decades and cost trillions of lives. Eventually the light of the Jedi Order pushed back the darkness of the Sith Empire and restored balance.

“Are you not coming with us?” She asked.

“No. I usually stay here and keep an eye on the crops, along with some farm hands from the village. It’s one of my favorite holidays too, though for different reasons. I like the fact that everyone leaves the monastery and I‘m left with quiet solitude.”
“And Master Abbot is ok with leaving you here on your own?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t he be?”

She wanted to say, ‘because you’re too old and someone should be keeping an eye on you’ but quickly realized how mildly insulting her question could be taken.

With his arm already draped along her shoulder he lightly patted her. He chuckled a bit.

“Thank you for your concern Rebecca. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, the crops, and the monastery for a few days.”
She nodded.

“I simply shuffle from one control board to the other, making sure the automated systems are functioning as intended. But mostly I meditate, and then sleep.”

But this year would be different. This year he would collect his books and compile them into a pyre in the dining hall’s hearth, then set them on fire.

When the two made it to his room Francis entered thinking the girl would politely bow, say goodnight, and make her way back to her own quarters, but she didn’t. She innocuously passed his threshold with him. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, left his sandals at the entrance and made his way to his small bed. He undid his rope belt, divested his brown robe and wearing only his thin frock crawled under his sheets.

“So many books!” marveled the girl. It was the first time she had entered his room. Bookshelves lined Francis’ room from top to bottom. Against the back wall were an armchair and a lantern. She stared at the many books, but could not make out their language. ‘So many books’, she whispered to herself.

“I’m very tired Rebecca dear.” He said. “I’m going to sleep awhile. Please, let yourself out”. He turned his back to her in order to sleep on his side.

“Master, where did you get all these books?” She lifted one from a shelf.

“Put that one down!” He almost shouted. Then, more calmly. “Put that one back dear. It’s not for you.”

Shocked by his tone she did as instructed, but her curiosity was piqued.

The old Master lightly exhaled. It was almost a groan of pain. Still lying in the fetal position, not facing her, he said:
“I gathered them. That was my assignment in the Educational Corps. I was to scour the galaxy for any works of our ancient Masters that were lost, or thought to have been lost, or unknown, and translate them once I brought them back to the Jedi archives. I am very good with languages; my gift from the Force.”

“Extraordinary”

“Not really. The Lord of the Force blesses each of us with a gift.”

His response confused her. ‘Lord of the Force?’ she wondered. ‘Is this what the other Masters mean?’ Putting aside his strange words she continued:

“Yes, really. We didn’t see many books while training in the Temple. Do the archivists keep all the books behind closed doors? Did you have many adventures when you were collecting them?”

Francis was simultaneously irritated the girl would not let him sleep, and happy to share his past.

“One or two adventures, yes. And yes, some of the codices were kept by the scribes and translators, like myself. We don’t own them, really. We just held on to them. Technically, really, they belong to the people of the Republic”.
He paused for a moment to collect some memories.

“The old paper papyrus’ and leather manuscripts we collected became obsolete, in a way, once we had them translated and copied into a codex. We would then either scan or again transcribe the information of the codex into the archives in electronic format. They newly translated manuscripts themselves became these strange and wonderful artifacts. We held on to them, though I’m not really sure why. Nostalgia perhaps. Sometimes I think we should have just burned them all.”
Rebecca’s brow furrowed at his suggestion of burning ancient knowledge.

“When I retired and left the Educorps the particular codices I translated I took with me,” he paused again “though I shouldn’t have. I should have simply left them at the temple. But then again I was worried they would fall into the wrong hands. I really don’t know what I was thinking.”Again his response aroused her interest. ‘The wrong hands? What could he mean?’ She continued with their discussion of his books.

“You translated this many?”

“Quite a few, yes”.

“What language?”

There was a long silence. Francis turned over and looked at the girl. He gave her a gentle smile, but it was clear his exhaustion was beginning to overcome him.

“I’m very tired Rebecca dear. I’m sure Master Abbot has something for you to work on before night settles in. Don’t you have to prepare for the Remembrance celebration? Go now, and fetch me in the morning for breakfast. I’ll tell you all about my few adventures then”.

The Master turned over and settled himself once more, though the girl didn’t move, and the old man was struggling to stay awake. She sat herself in his armchair.

“Master Francis, are you still awake?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

“The Masters here at the monastery, they say you believe in something different from them and that what you believe is… dangerous. They call you a Solomonite. What is that?”

He smiled a little “I know what they say.” The old Jedi could barely keep his eyes open. He began to mumble. “I believe in the Lord of the Force…. the almighty, creator of all things visible and invisible…. believe in Solomon his son, born of the virgin Arammi … conceived by the Lord of the Force’s spirit… he suffered within the dragon… He will……again” He fell asleep.

“Master Francis?”

Slowly, quietly, the padawan got up from the Master’s armchair and tucked the book she had first lifted into her sleeve.

She shut the door to the Master’s chamber and made her way to her own room on the other side of the monastery. Twilight was upon the ancient abbey and purple light shone through the windows as she made her way through the stone halls. Her hands were sweating. She switched the book from one hand to the other, for fear of permanently marring it. She bowed in deference to her elders as she closed in on her room.

She opened her hermitage door and closed it behind her, making sure her movements were not too quick. The room was beginning to darken. She lit one of her lanterns and the light created a soft glow, then she placed herself on her bed mat, crossed her legs, and produced the book from her robes.

The book was bound in red cloth, and in gold inlay its title read: The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise. She opened the book and imbedded in the first page was a small blue holo-chip. She tapped the chip and a small blue holographic image of a much younger Master Francis appeared before her face. Draped in the robes of a Jedi the blue and translucent 3D image of Master Francis became animated and began to pace. With his face looking down at the floor the striding holograph came to an abrupt stop, then looking up and into Rebecca’s eyes it spoke:

 

Greetings Master Jedi,

My name is Master Francis Ovair, Sith Historian and Jedi Consular. I apprenticed and trained under the scholar of Sith History, the noble Thisspiasian Master Scopian. I am assistant-chair of Sith History at the Jedi Temple.
Let us begin:

In this introductory lecture to The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise, I have endeavoured to put before you, Master Jedi, a brief outlying of information that will assist you in a more complete understanding of this poem. But before I get to the details of this poem, and some of the supposed history surrounding its origin, indulge me in one of my perfunctory warnings about reading material that has about it the fingerprints of Sith magicians.
I stress to you Master Jedi, be vigilant in your reading of this material especially as it concerns some of the Sith rituals for immortality. Do not doubt me when I say to you the temptation of Bogan lies in wait for you. He wants to consume you. His desire is for you. Do not be fooled into thinking that because you dwell in the light, that the darkness cannot creep into your heart. It can, and it will try.

Know this good Master: when I translate Sith texts - this one being no exception - I always do so in the presence of two Jedi Masters who repose in a state of deep meditation, their focus on the profound light and deep mystery of the Lord of the Force. Consider doing the same when you read Sith material – do so in the presence of the greatest Masters of your time. In short, dear college, Sith writings are seductive – be ever mindful of your feelings and thoughts as you read them.
As for this particular work: the poem before you is an interesting one, in that it has several notable qualities to it. Allow me to briefly outline the chief aspects of this work that are notable. I shall deal with each individually before we get to the poem proper.
My first point: The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise is an adaptation of the Epic of Solomon; my second, this text is a grimoire; my third, bafflingly, it does not attempt to undermine the Solomonite worldview; and finally, I shall tell you the story of how I came about it.

Firstly, despite my warnings at the start, the heart of this poem in not Sith in origin; rather, it is Catharian. To wit, The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise is an adaptation of The Epic of Solomon, a poetic work originally written by Ho Jinn Molt, a famous Catharian poet from before the Great Hyperspace War.

For those unfamiliar with this great work, allow me to provide some background information. The Epic of Solomon is a pious poetic outpouring and re-imagining of the Catharian sacred text ‘The Glorious Truth’. ‘The Glorious Truth’ is a collection of sacred writings written by the blood-brothers of Solomon of Cathar, a historical figure who is believed to be the incarnation and divine son of the Lord of the Force. As the text describes, Solomon, the messiah of the Catharian tribe known historically as the “Solomonites” came to Cathar to defeat the primary force of darkness, known to them as Bogan. Solomon was sent by the Lord of the Force to defeat StarCrow – a Duinuogwuin dragon, servant, and in some respects avatar of Bogan, who also ruled over the Catharian people. The Glorious Truth is a collection of biographies of Solomon of Cathar, and The Epic of Solomon, written by the Solomonite Ho Jinn Molt over a millennia and a half later, is a poetic re-telling of events found within The Glorious Truth.
But allow me to stop short before I fall too far down this lepi hole. Millennia of ink has been spilt by scholars and theologians on The Glorious Truth, so staying away from that universal text, allow me to stay focused on The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise and it’s similarities to The Epic of Solomon.

When seen together, The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise and The Epic of Solomon have many similarities, notably in a comparable metered structure, and the last third of the work’s narrative. Indeed, when one reads the first after the second, it becomes clear how Ho Jinn Molt influenced the writer of “The Godform”. The greatest similarities between the two works are “The Godform’s” retelling of the fall of Bogan, along with the orthodox understanding and re-telling of Solomon’s resurrection. I suggest after you have read this work, go back to The Epic of Solomon to see for yourself how “The Godform” changes very little in its own retelling.

Though with that being said, a full third of the work (the beginning third of “The Godform”) is very different from The Epic of Solomon, in that it focuses on the occult practices of Sith magick, and provides a formula of incantation for the Sith ritual of essence transfer. But its tinge of darkness does not stop there; many other Sith works are also referenced in this text: the Thothnyich manuscript, the works by the Witches of Dyzan, the Divine Septenary, the Codex of Revealing, The Shadow Manuscript, the Key of Rehobostar, and a tome presumably written by Typhogem. It is true to say that The Godform Assumption of StarCrow contains much light, but also much darkness.

This leads me to my second point, good Master, namely, that this particular work is a grimoire. Allow me to explain what I mean by this: Though in the final analysis The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise is a text more akin to the light than the dark, it is the only text I know of that contains the prescribed words and actions of the Bornless Ritual: the rite Sith magicians would use to transfer their soul to another body, and it is here that this work’s deepest mysteries come to the fore.
Let me illustrate my point with a story: After I had first acquired the book and eventually came about to reading it, that very same evening two men wrapped in the blackness of the darkside found me in the small cottage I was residing in. Though I was tucked away on the outskirts of a large city center, there came upon my door in the middle of the night a strong willed knock. Already awake, for I enjoy reading through the night, I met the strangers before my threshold, and immediately noticing my Jedi attire, and that I was a servant of the most high, they engaged me in combat. They demanded to know where “the book” was, and were intent on dispatching me the moment I had given them what they desired. Fortunately I was more skilled than them in the ways of the Force, and the two quickly realized they were outmatched and ran back into the darkness from whence they came. At that moment I realized the danger of the book and that the mere act of reading it sent out into the Force a call of darkness. Like moths drawn to light, lovers of the darkside heed the call of StarCrow the dragon and come searching for forbidden knowledge. So deep is the magick contained in this book that even if it is read in the silence of one’s mind the call goes fourth to those who are attuned to listen.

Time and again this scenario would repeat. Every time the book was read, particularly the first act, the lovers of darkness would come searching. That is why I stressed at the beginning of this lecture, good master Jedi, that if you want to read this text you must do so behind a wall of light – a wall purposely made by the great and holy masters of your day meditating on the mystery of the Lord of the Force. If not the lovers of darkness will find you.
Moving on to my third point good master. The most extraordinary aspect of this text is the fact that it faithfully retells the resurrection narrative of Solomon, and does not attempt to undercut or undermine in any way the radical claim of the Solomonites – that Solomon was the only begotten son of the Lord of the Force, and that this radical self-identity was demonstrably proved when he validated his power over evil and the material realm through his resurrection. If there ever was a time for a writer to subvert, pervert, or creatively correct the works and worldview of a literary precursor, notably in this case a Sith poet over an artist whose worldview purports to have authority over his own, this was that time! Yet there it is – the resurrection of Solomon the Cathar – found within a text alongside the magical practices of Sith occultists. As a scholar of Sith history I find this most perplexing.

If you are interested in reading more about the identity of the author of The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise, see the encyclopedia work by my own Master Scopian titled “Who wrote The Godform?: Three options”.

To conclude my introduction noble master, let me tell you how I came upon the work.

My discovery of the book was most serendipitous. The Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise was contained in a library collection belonging to an ancient Iktotchi family from northern Oreb. The poem was written in Sith, in lettering of blood, sometime after the Great Hyperspace War.

After having successfully trained my own apprentice into knighthood, and thereby achieving the title of Master, I was sent to Ankhela, the capital city of Iktoch, to meet with several Jedi Lords to lead them through some quiet contemplation. The trip was intended to be a small retreat for myself as well. I was to spend a few days with them in meditation, and guide the Jedi Lords in quiet introspection. I arrived in Ankhela a few days ahead of schedule, and decided to familiarize myself with the city prior to my meeting. On my second morning in the city I stopped in a café for some java juice and perused the local news. There I saw an advertisement for an estate sale auction, and on a whim, I made my way out to Oreb in the mountains overlooking the city. The Estate was grand. There perched atop a mountain was a five spired castle seemingly hewn from the mount itself. Making my way into the castle I was greeted by the head servant, and he brought me to a large lounge where others who had come for the auction were gathered.

After tea and exchanged pleasantries, I decided to wander about the castle, and during my wandering I came upon a grand library. Three stories high and encased in rich dark wood, the library seemed to be nestled in the heart of the castle, its northern wall a massive window overlooking the city below. After some time half-heartedly perusing the library’s titles, I found myself on the third floor tucked away in one of its corners, and it was there I pulled from a shelf a small red-cloth bound codex. Immediately recognizing the language as Sith, and reading over quickly the words in front of me, I recognized that I had in my hands a most profound object of Sith literature. Without a second thought I tucked it away in my robes, and decided that it was my duty to purchase the entirety of the library on behalf of the Jedi order, should there be any others works of the Sith lying about on the library’s shelves.
Others had come to the auction to buy some books as well, but after some gentle convincing on my part the other patrons decided that they did not really want to buy any of the books, so I purchased the entire library for what I deemed to be a good and honest price.

Hiring some of the estates’ own servants, I spent the next seven days cataloguing, boxing, and sending back to the Temple archives the collection I had purchased. And indeed, embedded with the library’s collection were other Sith works.
As for the Godform Assumption of StarCrow the Wise which I had originally lifted, once my work of cataloguing and boxing was done I retired to the small cottage on the outskirts of town I mentioned before, and there, now equipped with some peace and quiet, I began to read the text.

The rest of the story you are familiar with.
But
before you begin your own reading Master Jedi, make sure you are not alone, and that you have about you good and holy masters meditating within the Light. If you do, I hope you enjoy my translation of this most vexing Sith text.
May the Force be with you.

The holograph disappeared, and Rebecca hesitated to turn the page. She knew she should put the book down and sneak it back into Master Francis’s room the next day, but she didn’t. Now surrounded by the darkness of the night, she turned the page and began to read.

 

Book 1 of 3: (111 Stanzas)


1.
Of StarCrow’s defiance to Light`s beacon
And his coiled embrace of darkness’ life,
Whisper in profane verses O Fanged God
And tell of the King-Sorcerer’s reason
To worship and adore the gargoyle’s strife.
Tell of his ensoulment into the awed
And abhorrently beautiful dragon,
White in flesh and darkness rife.
2.
Bogan watched as he was knit in the womb,
Greatly blessed by the midichlorians.
As soon as they finished him as a man
His formidable Force powers did bloom.
They pieced him together as artisans
Creating an original true plan.
StarCrow’s mother faced her eternal tomb
Birthing Bogan’s partisan.
3.
Too large to exit a Queenly tunnel
The royal shaman was anxious for her life,
Without choice the sage did caesarean.
To live, mother and son did struggle
But too profound severed the healer’s knife.
Pulled from the wound, the boy, cerulean
His mother’s strangled spirit did crumble
Sacrificed for Bogan’s strife.
4.
Powerful StarCrow, King of the Sethans
Came to be when three moons glimmered vivid.
In the darkness of morning he was born,
And labeled malicious by the heavens.
Of her labour his father was livid
The boy first breathed as his mother was torn.
Bursting fourth, his time of dawn all sevens.
In moments she’d be rigid.
5.
Contrast cheer with howl, the son and sire
Rejoiced and blasphemed light life and Black Death.
From blue to red the son’s blood did arise,
His mother’s death StarCrow’s phoenix fire.
His mother profaned him in her last breath.
The decay of death did birth and baptize
To StarCrow’s future evil entire
Now born ruler of the Seth.
6.
Blessed by the Force the boy grew in stature,
Learned swordplay and alchemical magick.
Pouring his efforts into his offspring
The King’s once curse became his new rapture.
The Queen’s demise was no longer tragic,
Her life needed for birth of future king.
The material realm he would capture,
His legacy fantastic.
7.
Tutored by sages and wizards of old
He learned all the proper material:
Having the Force as his divine ally
Meant his actions were profound and controlled;
His Commands were right and ethereal.
Beings not blessed with the Force must comply,
They must worship, obey, do what they’re told
By their King Imperial.
8.
He studied the life of his profane world
Exploring the Force with biology.
Perverting the Force and making monsters
He was pleased with the life he unfurled.
He manipulated morphology
With the scrolls of his ancient precursors.
Genetic monstrosities he swirled,
StarCrow their theology.
9.
Also tutored in the art of warfare
His designs he kept impenetrable;
To fall on his foes like a thunderbolt,
To subdue them he’d become their nightmare.
To lay down arms was inevitable
So that they’d fear him too much to revolt
And they’d know he was Bogan’s forbearer,
Defeat irrevocable.
10.
He took to the stars leading the navy,
StarCrow grew to command the armada.
From generals he learned to lead star ships,
Command men, shoot a blaster, and ensnare.
Of other Kings he became their envy
He intensified and rose to eclipse.
Before long StarCrow succeeded to tear
Rival realms in his frenzy.


11.
Established as a mighty warrior,
StarCrow was well pervaded with the Force.
His father, now dead, acclaimed his dark gifts
Did set him on his rivals as terror.
Mighty StarCrow rampaged without remorse
Drowning his foes in history’s abyss.
StarCrow was feared as the greatest killer,
Matchless in his seizing course.
12.
Taking, ruling, controlling all in sight
StarCrow established his New World Order.
His system now one, reigned as suzerain,
To all his subjects a beacon of light.
“Sethans now know, we live with no boarder
Gaze upon me your lifeblood your fountain”.
On his Pergamon altar, clothed in white
He spoke with kingly ardour.
13.
Building weapons he grew his empire
And impelled his reign to unknown places.
Battle meditation ensured his wins
Yet a foe he met who would not tire.
They fought, rebuked him, destroyed his bases,
While the Lord of Light tallied StarCrow’s sins.
Yet these beings he could not suspire,
Unlike the other races.
14.
For many decades he battled and raged
Angered with a rival who would not fold.
Time proceeded to a warring stalemate
His adversary would not be assuaged.
Yet King StarCrow was not to be controlled;
His intelligence and knowledge too great.
In time he knew his rival would be caged
This was already foretold.
15.
Placing to one side his ships and his sword
From the vanguard of battle he withdrew.
Residing in his father’s library
He examined his ancestor’s records
Determined for the stalemate to break through.
He returned to powerful alchemy,
Secrets of magick his father did hoard
They would reveal what to do.

 

16.
Secreted within his castle’s bulwark
The archive was an ancient Arcanum.
For epochs primal secrets were gathered
Their knowledge of the Force’s darkness stark.
To devour the light is Bogan’s rhumb
Recorded on leather, long since tattered,
For many spans they sat hushed in the dark
Secrets little would fathom.
17.
Kneeling before the bronze of his father
He spoke to the effigy to give thanks.
He pulled upon the hilt of the weapon
Showing a room in which he did enter.
Descending profound steps into the dank
Mysterious voices he heard beckon.
Foreseeing the gen he soon would ponder
Behind him shadows phalanxed.
18.
The room was a cave with unlit candles
Stone walls lined with shelves, their wooden frames warped.
Bent by the weight of the treasures they bore
The books were scattered as if by vandals.
Shadows so thick his sight they did distort
Order he knew he needed to restore.
He took to sequence what was in shambles
Profane law he did consort.
19.
Hundreds of volumes filled shelves on the wall
Books large and thick, pages bound by leather
Ancient tomes archaic in appearance
The old manuscripts, well preserved, did sprawl.
Most of these books poured forth from the nether
Their secrets of darkness displayed brilliance.
Words of dark precursors heeding The Call
Dead tones joining together.
20.
He bound together leaves of pale parchment
And gathered rolled scrolls encased in clear tubes.
But more there were than archaic relics
Old holodisks did also document,
Along with ominous glowing red cubes.
He assumed the role of academic
And drew about him his runic garment
Happy with what he did choose.
21.
He read the works by the Witch of Dyzan
“Ye Sons of Earth, Sons of Fire listen
Neither first nor last, all is no number
We spring from the primordial seven.
From the primordial flame be christened
Ray of ever-darkness break your slumber
Awaken from the one egg from heaven
Army of the Voice, risen.”
22.
Next he read the Divine Septenary
“Darkness, the Boundless or the no- total
Is the life-breath, become the Light Maker
Re-soul yourself as the emissary
Picture your desire into motile
Prepare to bloody the sacred acre
Your dark truth shall be revelatory
Become darkness’ focal.”
23.
He then read the Codex of Revealing:
“Splendid gods of great manifestation
O Graush, Zhellmok, Sakkra, and Var-Ko
Victors of The Voice, doors you are freeing
Bogan whom you fear as the foundation
Outline for me the Shadow path and grow
Equip me that I might shine my being
And port your incarnation.”
24.
Next he studied The Shadow Manuscript
“Tis wise to strive to get a new body
But first you must learn to fully gain sight
At first you will feel yourself being ripped
As your spirit seeks to disembody.
Embrace your fear yet dominate your fright
Prepare to battle the soul you’ll evict
Victorious, be godly.”
25.
Next he read the Key of Rehobostar
“I command and call, constrain all spirits
Rise from your foul dungeons and flaming chains
Collect the unholy and those bizarre
I rule you, obey me, rise from your pits.
Come from your dry places and bring your pains
And kneel before me your spiritual czar
I will define your limits.”
26.
For many seasons wise StarCrow did read
Engorging himself on his dark side texts.
Then seeing one last tome hid in a crook
He read Typhojem’s word and took deep heed.
He jumped headlong into shadowy depths
And began to incant words from the book
For knowledge of this last act he must plead
And embrace a fleshly death.
27.
Immortal StarCrow fervent and clever
Read the old tome where the black squid did hiss:
“Refuse to perish and open your eyes.
Become like me and exist forever.
Your view is god-like take hold of your bliss.
Let no power or principal deny
Your fate and your glorious endeavour.
Stare, and fear not the abyss.”
28.
“Here am I devouring immortal
Revel yourself for rightly devotions.
I am strong, keen, and feared by the masses,
My mind is astute, your able portal.
I am worthy of your arcane notions
I corner my knee, your faithful fasces.
O Fanged God your sinfulness is fertile,
Come, let us be companions.”
29.
StarCrow called in his ancestor’s chamber
Demanding the Fanged God to manifest.
Surrounded by the darkness of morning
His passions now free, his wants a saber.
Pillared books of ancient secrets promised
The power of black magick adorning.
“Wise StarCrow’s enemies are in danger.
He’ll conquer all” they attest.
30.
The words now spoken the darkness amassed,
Blackness collected from deep underneath.
Shadow upon shadow seeped into form
From the stone cold floor the Fanged God stood cast.
Black leather wings with ferocious sharp teeth
Malformed and towered as a red-eyed storm.
“Adore and worship only me?” he asked.
“Settle upon me your wreath”.

 

31.
Incanting, smelling, and seeing him real
StarCrow pledged “Fanged God here is my spirit”.
“Revere me and do all that I command
And life forever I give in this deal.
Seek out veiled knowledge worthy of merit,
Set yourself free, be born-again as grand.
A crown I give, you are set with my seal.
From here you have no limit.”
32.
“The Force is with me, dark power abounds
Give me what I want, let the shadows breathe.
I will use the Force to make myself strong
Divinely transform myself to astound.
Worlds will tremble at my fiery seethe.
I will govern the universe lifelong.
Break my chains, my passion will go unbound
I’ll become the God they need”.
33.
“I know what schemes agitate in your mind
And together we’ll make them transpire
I have wisdom and knowledge to give you
Let’s now avow our dark fortunes entwined.”
Unbending his knee, soul now a-fire
King StarCrow stood to his full height and knew.
“Transmute me; I want to be redefined,
A body to inspire.”
34.
“To cheat death is our greatest desire
And I vouchsafe such magick can be done
Some others before you have accomplished
This powerful sacrificial fire.
Be sure, forever the light you must shun,
Yet your beastly structure will astonish.
Come closer King StarCrow, let’s conspire
And I shall call you my son”.
35.
StarCrow beheld Grand Bogan incarnate
His sight regarding his shadowy flesh,
“I want to become a massive dragon
Though my soul I know not how to ablate.”
“What I promise will make you throw and thresh
Yet you’ll achieve your desired action,
A Dragon reborn to incinerate.
Capture Ashla and enmesh.”
36.
“Arcane books and deep pages only hint
That my spirit can murder another’s.
I desire to transfer my essence
Into a dragon in which I’ll imprint.
A drake I’ll find and mystically smother
To be reborn the dark side’s quintessence,
I’ll become a vile body newly mint;
Unnaturally other.”
37.
“To far Dathomir you must go alone
Once there charm, wed, then kill the sorceress.
Apprentice yourself to her traditions,
She’ll teach you invocations to intone.
Control her will and in her mind impress
That you’ll acquiesce to her conditions.
Once trusted, begin your plan to dethrone
And declare yourself noblesse.”
38.
Mighty StarCrow, apprentice of darkness
Embarked to the stars to resume his quest.
Charging his helmsman to far Dathomir
“To Quelii space, where power I’ll harness!
Dark knowledge awaits, it’s mine to possess!
Time has fled I must expand my frontier
Purge my soul, spiritual catharsis
Here am I a man obsessed!”
39.
Blue lines of hyperspace fell to the side,
His warship hung like a fiend in orbit.
Leading his shuttle to the red surface
He descended with the aim to preside,
And plunged from the sky as a bright comet.
He set his ship down by a deep crevice
Then took in flora with a kingly stride
Meeting eyes with blue portraits.
40.
Feeling the fear of the blue reptile men
He ordered the natives from their dark sites.
“Tis true to fear me savages of old
The Force can see you, come out from your dens.
Reveal yourselves from your primeval heights
You can’t deny me I have you controlled
Lead me to your chief; guide me through your glen
And we’ll join in ghostly rites.”
41.
Quick warfare immediately ensued
With arrows and spears plunging from the sky
Yet their piercing tips halted in mid-flight
With the Force, necks were cracked, breaking the feud.
The attackers killed, all but one did die
“To your chief, lead, and I’ll excuse this slight.”
The native obeyed from the fear exude
And lead to his chief that nigh
42.
“Visions I’ve had of your looming advent
Not I you want, but Madame Blavatstar
Why did you come here, to torture the Kwa?
Not my gifts you want but her dark talent.
We hide from the Mountain Clan in this scar
And shun the evil of Madame’s dark law.
Away from my hut your dark covenant
We desire not to mar.”
43.
“Heed me scaled chief, your blood line is ancient
I’ve seen your story, you did not devolve.
Set between us fire, we’ll make a pact,
You’ll submit for the sake of your nation.
When the time comes you’ll help, I’ll then absolve
The unfair phrases of this forced contract.
You’ll want to shun your people’s enslavement
Steady your spine and resolve.”
44.
StarCrow performed dark magick that evening
And pressed into service the ancient Kwa
Governing their minds and bending their will
His words were evil but not deceiving.
A plan he bared that was frightful and raw.
The chief agreed to StarCrow’s bitter pill.
The chief’s horrid dreams of many bleeding
Would queue him for his withdrawal.
45.
Leading the King to Madame’s dark fortress
The chief’s heart hoped for StarCrow’s timely death.
The red witch greeted the King with a kiss
While the chief retreated to his forest.
“Greetings Madame, I am King of the Seth,
Our God has sent me to plumb your abyss.
Allow me to stare into your vortex
And combine our godly breath.”

 

46.
“The Fanged God spoke with me mighty StarCrow
And in visions revealed our intense hope
To combine our power for fleshly life
You are the key which unlocks my dark flow.
Together we’ll climb this secret text’s slope
But before we do, take me as your wife.
We’ll read its words and together we’ll know
How its mysteries to grope”.
47.
They entered as one the star pyramid
Accompanied by Blavatstar’s daughter.
The virgin Roselye arose as witness,
StarCrow’s handsomeness wrought her riveted.
The marriage sealed with drinks of dark water
Yet StarCrow fell for the virgin’s sweetness
Who wisely shaped her façade as timid
Veiling her love of slaughter.
48.
Blavatstar brought the King into her bed
While Roselye pined for great StarCrow the man
And husband and wife there consummated
The two became one in a fleshly thread.
She lead him onto her velvet divan
Blavatstar’s heart now intoxicated.
With his great being she was fully fed
“My King you are now my head.”
49.
“A gift I have for you StarCrow éclat
A codex given from three bright Djinn
They showed themselves as daughters of Bogan
Secrets from Manat, Aluzza, Allat.
They gave me this manuscript to begin
A text with sealed wax, I did break open
A guide given us, our future’s own plat
Offered to us from our kin.”
50.
“But I could not read this archaic text
Delivered from these exulted idols.
I prayed for help, intersession I hoped,
But its words were unclear, I remained vexed.
Its words, they said, were needed and vital
Thothnych they called it and said it was cloaked
With a veil of knowledge that does perplex
Except for the disciple.”
51.
The witch gave him the Thothnych Manuscript
An unreadable document by all,
And with shrewd eyes StarCrow read the strange rhyme
And bore in his soul knowledge to afflict.
Words written down by the Fanged God’s own scrawl
Inscribed behind the pouring out of time.
This was the key, he was almost equipped
To summon the black cabal.
52.
Upon his face spoke Illumination,
Blavatstar asked “What do it words reveal?
Its signs and prose are impenetrable
Yet your face speaks of knowing translation.”
“Our path to no end is clear and ideal
Life forever now inevitable.
We must set to work on consecration
To unlock the Fanged God’s seal”.
53.
“A forceful being we must thieve, then kill;
Magickally induce midichlorians
To invade a new life of our choosing-
With witchcraft we’ll bend its cells to our will.
A life we must steal, kill its guardian,
Then influence its nature infusing
This life with our end, then blood we must spill
And break pure meridians.”
54.
“The text speaks of star dragons, old and strong
Duinogwuin named, and blessed by the Force.
Strange and archaic, they hide in deep space.
An egg we must steal, these beings live long.
We’ll remake the hatchling, its life our source
Rebuild its ilk, genetic code deface
Then kill before a cabalistic throng
We must leave now, set a course!”
55.
Within deep space StarCrow further explained:
“Thothnych’s text is a living art piece
And his magick is free only to me.
By the God of Darkness I was ordained
Pervaded within me is his caprice.
The Fanged God has given me eyes to see
Only I can read his wisdom unchained:
Prep for our godly release!”
56.
“This passage here points to an unknown cave
Where the most powerful star dragon dwells.
It sits upon a brood of its offspring.
We must slaughter all but one and enslave
The most potent hatching, not crack it’s shell.
Start with the snapping of the elder’s wings
And bury it in its unwitting grave.
Come wife and prepare your spells.”
57.
“Once we’ve slaughtered, then control a new soul
We’ll begin to apply our alchemy
And with our witchcraft begin to transform
Pour into the life power we’ll control
With supernatural totality.
The being will be a breathing Force storm.
It will live and grow as the darkside’s whole,
Then drain life and atrophy.”
58.
“Wizards will group on the sacred circle-
I’ll chant the bornless ceremonial
While the great creature lays subdued and chained;
We’ll consume its life, become immortal,
Monarchs of shade, evil’s custodial.
With this transformed life we will be sustained
With eons of time, its blood so fertile,
We as testimonial.”
59.
“Collective dark-power we must conscript,
We’ll invite Dark Lords to participate;
Bring their essence to unfasten in full
The darkside’s power we’ll all unencrypt.
Make them think that their strength will dissipate
Drive them to fear and we’ll willingly pull.
Their lust will make them easy to convict
Not one will anticipate.”
60.
“Fear me they may for my reputation,
But many Lords fear the servants of Light.
We’ll promise them a powerful weapon.
Desperate they are for their own salvation
We’ll bring them together to chain their might,
And bring to bear a new Armageddon
Connive we will this new-found dark nation
And as one, my love, we’ll smite.”

 

I don't do poems, songfics, any of that stuff, however you had several posts of "normal prose", so I read that, far as I was able.

Wowsers, that was a progression from a light to heavy topic and no mistake!

Curious way that you started out, with Master Francis wanting to burn his works after his Master's death, and not seeing a reason to keep them, when there were copies available on Coruscant. I was silently arguing that you could save yourself some expensive ship fuel, holding onto your own copies.

Then you switched gears, starting quite the engaging story of life after a failed padawan has been despatched to the Agricorps, expanding on the idea and making it not seem such a purgatory after all, with staff able to return to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for celebrations, and mainstream jedi masters able to retire to such roles.

This was very good stuff.

I enjoyed the introduction of Rebecca, him calling her 'my child' and her reaction to that, engaging with him before and after the party; more expansions of the networking and world-building that took place during the birthday celebration, such as Adnor, someone who did not seem to be a jedi, but had actively signed up for the Agricorps!

I totally did not see it coming that young Rebecca had ulterior motives going on here, and really enjoyed the way you slowly eeked it out, Master Francis doing the hints, getting into bed, turning his back on her, then ramping up the clues - look, **** *** and call me for breakfast in the morning - and her still not going, sitting in his armchair, then borrowing the book when he is finally asleep.

I put down her not wanting to mar the book with her sweaty hands as a sign that she meant to return the book, rather than not wanting to damage it for its own sake.

Very good work and research seemed to have gone into the holographic introduction and warning at the front of the book, including a modicum of influence from a certain Real Life religion.

Seemed more than a coincidence that the particular community at Satio was growing crops for the Cathar, and the book's works were transcribed by a Catharian poet, describing historical events relating to the Catharian people, however earlier, you had stated that Francis had only sought out the quietest community, so that seemed odd.

I liked that the warning assumed that any Jedi reading would be a Jedi Master, and that it advised only doing so in the presence of not only two other Jedi, but two of the most powerful in the reader's era.

My own ability to read fictional material on a computer monitor, petered out about halfway through the holographic introduction, so that was as far as I got.

So for as far as I read, this was excellent, splendid storytelling.

10/10.

For exploring what happens in the Agricorps, that gets you an A-Star!

 

Sith-I-5 always has a good nose when it is about finding an interesting and unusual story in the fan fic section of the JC boards.

You really dug deep into very old "Earthly" religions here and were not even able to make them your own but you were actually able transform them flawlessly into the SW universe.

Your forbidden verse rained down on us like it did on Rebecca.

Fascinated like her I kept reading, knowing that I should not.

It would not astonish me if (Sheev) Palpatine would be very keen on getting this book into his greedy Sith hands.

 

Eeek! Perish the thought!

 

Sith-I-5, AureAngel2, and Cowgirl Jedi, sorry for not continuing with the story. I assumed no one was interested, so I stopped posting (the whole story can be found to the links in my tag). Admittedly, it is a dense text - the poetry especially, and really, my intended audience was very small - mostly folk like Dan Wallace, Abel Pena, Luke Van Horn, Joe Bongiorno, Pablo Hildago, Robert Mullin, etc. And even then, I didn't really expect them to pay it much mind.

Really, the intended audience of the work was (and is) myself - and maybe a few of my literature professors from years ago who wrote in the field of literary adaptation.. It was a labour of love and my own personal love letter to Star Wars.

A sincere thank you Sith-I-5, AzureAngel2, and Cowgirl Jedi for reading it and engaging with it, I take your compliments and critiques with joy.

 

Also, (and I was thinking about this this morning) you can read what happens to Master Francis at the end of the poem, as I move back into traditional prose after Rebecca finishes the poetry. It's intense.

 

Y'know, you could always copy and paste the material from your site to here.