The Epic of James
Born of deathless blood, that of the mother. Yet his father stands a hulking giant, strong and large, though mortal, subject to the grasp of death. A God was born, though halved, split in two, with no regards for earthly souls. Little did he know that the mother's blood seldom passed through her child's veins, for it is the father's soul that oft ventures forth. As painful as this truth may be, its validity and cruel honesty shan't be questioned by frail men, for it is up to mighty Gods, the great lawgivers of our realm, to decide what is true and what is false.
Oh the day good James met his bitter fate, the day his own humanity sapped the soul within...
The tears that were shed and the prayers that were spoken. Oh, the ground shook beneath those colossal feet, his godly voice roaring through the valley and upon the mountain side...
He cried, he scorned, he fought and mourned, yet true Gods show no mercy, only cruel deeds.
Piety and purity, modesty and love; all had failed, replaced with the red of wrath and war, the domain of ruthless men.
In the end, James the Godlike, a legend among titans, had been reduced to ash, turned to myth, thrown down from the heavenly skies, smote by his kin, now to face this mortal destiny...
And so the half-god giant rejoined the mortal realm once more, showered in glory as he defeated all foes, conquered all lands, ruling fairly over the people whose proud hearts he had won. He gathered wisdom, rejoicing in the great wealth he had so rightfully earned. Yet a single foe remains. A foul serpent, slithering through the tall green grass, rising up to strike.
"Time... Time is the greatest of foes, my only rival, the demise of James the Conqueror... What must I do, oh great deities of our world? Must I pray? Must I beg? So much blood I have shed; do you not find me worthy of your gift? Bestow upon me the right of immortality, or by the mother, I shall quell the heavens and take off your Godly head!"
Twelve nights of raging storms, twelve years of famine... Disease, death and suffering; all met James the Titan, impeding his path to eternity. And so the great titan commands all loyal folks to throw down the gold in favor of the hammer, for the time has come to subdue the very skies above... The last crusade of humankind...
The war lasted an age, bringing draught, pain, and sorrow. Soldiers fought, Titans raged, felling Gods and slaughtering their comrades, staring in the face of riches yet unbeknownst to earthly beings.
Forests which blaze with blinding light, oceans laden with crimson blood, hailstorms of flesh rage above as the tears of the last Gods showered the earth, and all became still...
What remained of James the Conqueror? He was driven mad, banished. Made an irrational man with irrational dreams, an irrational mind, with little logic there to seek.
"James the Godlike? James the Unfortunate, more like! An oaf and a fool! Born of goats, raised by cattle, servant to the devil himself! Never cross his path, for he brings only death and famine! Shelter your children from this foul beast! Thou shalt not meet his deathly gaze, nor his fiery breath!"
"To see the unseen, with blind eyes that shone so brightly in the dark of night..." A small fly dreamt, its meager wings like autumn leaves, fluttering with melancholy.
"To know the unknown, with nothing but a shattered mind..." It desperately wept, watching as the crescent moon descends.
"To become oneself, and accept the gift of mortal men..." Sorrow filled the starry night.
Sad was the tale of the fly. Sad, yet honest and raw.
Though in truth, no fly exists! No! The fly is James, and James is the fly, only broken, lost. What had driven poor James mad? Had it been the wine? Possibly the noxious plants? The poison of war? The spirit of conquest, perhaps?
"I shall not forsake my blood... I am a God, and I would sooner travel to the depths of hell than surrender the gift of immortality!"
And so he shan't...