#ancient demons

[ego-osbourne]

An old design for a statue of Lucifer.

In AHOS, I depict a lot of Christian events in a sort of AU of Christian lore. One of these story beats (or, rather, background stories) is the Fall of Lucifer. After his Fall, his brothers assumed him to be dead and created a memorial for him—a statue to remember his goodness before his rebellion. I had the idea for it to eventually get destroyed and damaged in some way.

//man those shoulders though. I can’t wait to start sharing recent art

[purgatoryapotheca]

*Disclaimer of Pazuzu:*

"He is the silence. He is the king of the winds and he is the one who choses to work with you.  Yes he is a protector but believe and understand his temperament and he must be approached in a specific way. It's different for men and women."

"Second reason is Pazuzi is not so much a people person.  He can be very difficult to negotiate around. He is not a Goetic demon. he has to be approached in a specific way"

Although he was never the most benevolent of supernatural beings in ancient Mesopotamia - and was certainly regarded as an evil demon - he was not evil incarnate and was frequently invoked for protection from evil. He was particularly powerful in protecting pregnant women and children from the demon-goddess Lamashtu who preyed on unborn and newly-born babies.

The term "demon" in the modern day always carries with it the connotation of evil but this was not so in the ancient world. The English word "demon" is a translation of the Greek word daimon which simply meant "spirit". A daimon could be good or evil, depending on its intentions and the results of a visitation. In ancient Mesopotamia, as in other cultures of the ancient world, demons were often sent by the gods as punishment for sin or to remind one of one's duty to the gods and others in one's community. Demons were not always evil and even those who were, like Pazuzu, were still capable of good deeds.

DEMONS IN MESOPOTAMIA

In the Akkadian/Babylonian myth of the Atrahasis, human beings have grown too numerous, too loud, and far too fertile. Further, they live so long that more of them are being born at any given time than those who die. They cover the earth and disturb the god Enlil with their noise to such an extent that he decides to destroy them in a great flood.  After the flood waters subside, the god of wisdom Enkiproposes a plan to re-populate the earth: the gods will create a new kind of human with a shorter life span and greater threats to their lives on a daily basis. Henceforth there will be disease, miscarriages, impotency, sterility, attacks by wild animals, and all other manner of death waiting in a day. Demons were a part of this divine plan and were sent to punish the wicked, test the righteous, and could even be given leave to torment someone because a certain god felt it was justified even though another disagreed. Demons who interfered with sexual intercourse and fertility were especially troublesome. The demon Samana, with his dragon's teeth, eagle talons, and scorpion's tail, was a constant threat and a Sumerian incantantion against him lists how he blocks the menstruation of the young girl, the potency of the young man, and the services of the courtesan and prostitute .Samana could also affect crops, livestock and, according to Bertman, "had a special appetite for infants and prostitutes".A demon of such malice and destructive power should have been held firmly in check by the gods and yet Samana was regarded as an agent of Gula, the goddess of health and healing, sent for reasons mortals would have to work out for themselves.

All that was clear was that one could be targeted by a god or demon for some exquisite or mundane torment at any time and for reasons which were not always clear. Scholar Gwendolyn Leick notes how "sexual life per se, of the individual and of society at large, was under a potential threat from the wrath of vengeful gods or the malice of demonic forces" . Sexuality was especially targeted, if one follows from the narrative of the Atrahasis, because it had to do with reproduction and population size. In targeting the sexual life of human beings, the gods could keep their communities down to a manageable size.

PAZUZU THE PROTECTOR

One of the best ways to protect one's self against such attacks was to find a protector in an equally powerful demon who would stand between an individual and the wrath of the gods as a shield. Pazuzu was the most popular of these protective deities. He was mainly called upon to keep Lamashtu from murdering unborn or newly born babies but seems to have also been invoked against disease, impotency, and the ill effects of the west wind and south-west wind which blew from the direction of the land of the dead; the very winds Pazuzu himself controlled.

He is imagined as an especially frightening figure capable of scaring off any lesser demon or ghost. Pazuzu is represented in statuettes and engravings with bulging eyes in a canine face, a scaly body, snake-headed penis, the talons of a large bird, and enormous wings. In the opening scenes of The Exorcist he is depicted accurately in the life-sized statue the priest looks upon in the ancient city of Hatra. In the novel, the author shows the priest handling a small statue of Pazuzu, not gazing upon a large figure, and this is also accurate.  Although small statuettes of the demon have been found at Hatra, no full-sized statues have ever been found anywhere and it is unlikely they ever will be. Depictions of demons or deities associated with the underworld are rare because it was thought that, in creating such an image, one attracted the attention of the subject.

The small statuettes and amuletic charms featuring Pazuzu had exactly the same effect: they drew Pazuzu's attention to the wearer or the room where the statuette was placed but their diminutive size concentrated their power toward protection. The individual mortal would have had nothing to fear from the demon because they were honoring him by asking for his protection and, when he came, he would turn his demonic powers on those threatening his charges, not on the individual mortal who had invoked him.

Pazuzu is popularly invoked as protection against disease, ghosts, and other demons, especially the Lamashtu.

[amesann-writing]

Mournful God

"Apollo!" Janus called, pushing through the crowds of fleeing, screaming villagers. He must have known, he must have known this was going to happen. It must have been why he was so insistent on going down to the market that day. His hood fell as he ran, though all the humans were far too caught up in their own fear and panic to pay any attention to the grey skinned, red eyed man. The demonic deity shoved through a crowd mercilessly as he called out again, trying desperately to spot his lover through the thick, black smoke and ash that clogged the air. It wasn’t fear of the unknown that was pulsing through Janus’ veins, this situation wasn’t anything knew. They had seen the fall of civilisations, watched wars and massacres unfold, but this was different. This wasn’t man, but God. If this world breaking storm had been sent to destroy them, then there would be no hope for his partner, who would throw himself in front of a poisoned arrow to save one human without any regard for himself. He had to keep running, he had to find his Sunshine.

“Janus!” Apollo screamed into the fire, back peddling quickly to avoid more of the building that was collapsing around him. He tightened his hold on the children in his arms, shushing their cries as he quickly looked for another way out. He had seen the mountain explode in his dreams the night before, raining fire and death on the people below. It had woken him in a cold sweat, tears tracking down his face as the screams from his nightmare rang in his ears. The old ghost had known then and there that he had to help, no matter what. Now there he was, heat blistering his skin as he found himself trapped inside the crumbling city. He called out mentally as ash clogged his throat, hoping and praying the demon he loved would hear him. All he could do was wait, shielding the crying children with his own body.

Janus jumped from shadow to shadow, disappearing and reappearing over and over as he approached the destruction. Buildings burned around him, lighting the black sky as he searched. All of a sudden, the roar of the flames, the screams of the dying and the rumble of the mountain all seemed to fall silent, the world slowing to a crawl.

Janus!

He took off, racing towards the source of the cry as the world caught up, flooding his senses with noise. He shoved into the city’s orphanage, kicking himself for not figuring to check sooner. Of course the old fool would go there at the first sign of trouble, it was in his nature. Flames bit at his skin and ate at his clothes, only to be pushed back by his dark aura.

“Shedim!” He screamed over the cacophony of destruction, the name feeling familiar and warm on his tongue, despite the centuries since it’s last use. He made one last push through into the centre of the home, finally finding Apollo, huddled around the bodies of the orphans. They were already gone, likely due to the smoke, but the younger deity hadn’t seemed to have noticed, still holding them close as if protecting them from the end of the world. Janus moved forward quickly, taking his love's face into his hands and pulling it up to look at him. “Let them go, we have to leave!”

“No, we can’t!" Apollo said in panic, the relief that had flooded his eyes moments before quickly vanishing. “The children-"

“Are already dead Shedim! You should know better by now, you know we cannot interfere. If their deaths were to happen, there would be nothing you could do to stop them!” Janus interrupted, shaking the other slightly as he tried to reason with him. He let go of his shoulders, moving his hands down to pry the God of music’s hands away from the lifeless bodies, pulling him up to his feet. “Please!”

After what felt like a life time, Apollo finally nodded silently, and they were instantly wrapped up in the velvety blackness of the void, being carried away from the destruction, from the screams, from Pompeii.

----------

Phantom dodged the tourists as best he could, keeping his head dipped and hidden under the cap that casted a shadow across his face. To the people around him, he was invisible. Just another body in a crowd, just like he had been all those millennia ago. Everything was different, yet so familiar as his hands brushed the walls that still stood. He could almost picture that last day, the smells and sounds of the market, the laughter of children and the call of animals. Just as quickly as it came, the vision faded. Now all that was left were ghosts.

He ducked seamlessly past the fences and barricades, slipping through into one of the ruins that lay at the outskirts of the city, it’s stone still blackened from the fire and lava that had overcome it. To all others that came to gawp at the famous disaster site, the building was empty. None could see what he could. None could see the three tiny graves that lay in the centre, nor the stone markers made of pure obsidian standing over them.

The red eyed man sat before the graves, as he always did on this day, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and let the past flood through to him, guilt and anger and frustration melted away in the following moments, hours passing as he let himself make peace with his memories.

“I thought I might find you here.” A familiar voice hummed from behind him, much softer than the usual tone it held. A hand came to rest on his shoulder almost comfortingly. “It’s getting late.”

Phantom nodded softly, bringing his own hand up to rest on the one on his shoulder. He looked up at the other man, giving him a tired smile.

“I know Dark. Let’s go home.”

[violetiris-ak]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

   “Envy is so crude.” Marcella toed the green sludge with mild interest. “It only sees what it wants and projects, but I see what the heart desires most and reflects. To see a flaw in the vision is to see a flaw in the self. So, most mortal minds are fooled. But not you.” She pinned me with a Cheshire Cat smile, as if she had guessed my conclusion. “You are not entirely of the mortal plains, are you?”

  She didn’t care to wait for my answer and went to the bar tucked in the corner. With a flourish she poured from a decanter of spirits. She swirled the amber liquid around in her crystal glass to admire the way it caught the dim light before taking a delicate sip. The moan that followed could leave no doubt her blissful approval. So apparent was her enjoyment that she made me flinch when she knocked the glass over with a crash as flippant’s as a cat’s. The expensive alcohol soaked into the plush carpet, irrevocably staining it, but her face showed only apathy.  

  “Once a woman bargained away her freedom for just one more bottle. Just another taste, she begged. After she got what she wanted, when I came to claim what was mine, she tried to bargain again. Foolish mortal. I always collect. Best make a bargain you can live with. Or, die for.”

  When she grinned this time, the whites of her teeth looked as sharp as a tiger’s. Then in a blink it was gone, but the impression wasn’t. I didn’t need to tap into my powers to see past a glamour, to know without a doubt I was dealing with another demon.

[josephinebrause]

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[kuromiyakun]

@umbra-est-magus

[josephinebrause]

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[josephinebrause]

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