300: Tunnels of Babylon

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EDIT: This is an edited & upgraded version to the previous Newsletter #300 which I felt I had posted prematurely sent out my rush to get it out before Christmas. Now that I have had some sleep, I realized I missed out on some important parts and had left in some formatting errors. I've also forgotten to mention that for those curious, this tale is a companion piece for #228: Horror Beyond Borders and features various artworks related this story previously shown in earlier updates to add more flavor to the story. New artworks will be indicated as such. I hope you enjoy this.

For members who purchase via Hiccears, due to the "pay-per-view" nature of that platform and that I'm unable to enable a subscription based approach there, all updates there are now sold piece-meal as a set for 12 H-Coins each (which is approximately USD12 per Newsletter/Update. The link can be found here: https://www.hiccears.com/contents/98f73811-b189-4ebf-b797-8138070e2ff4

Dear Patrons,

What have I been up to lately? In my cozy cabin writing tales, of course! So, thank you for your patience as I'm sure as this update indicates, your patience will be well rewarded with a grand tale. Forbidden Feast's storytelling best, I hope!

So, as Christmas nears and in the spirit of this very round number, 300 (like the movie!), we revisit the ancient past, of long gone civilizations with a somewhat adjacent story including an appearance of a very minor biblical character.

That night the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies! So Sennacherib king of Assyria broke camp and withdrew. He returned to Nineveh and stayed there. One day, while he was worshiping in the temple of his god Nisrok, his sons Adrammelek and Sharezer killed him with the sword, and they escaped to the land of Ararat. And Esarhaddon his son succeeded him as king.

With this update, blending some creative fiction with a bit of real history (you can't accuse me of not being educational enough with my writings!), it is up to you to decide if this update indicates that I am back to my narrative best. But it is safe to say that Carte du Jour #300 is probably the longest and hardest researched vignettes I've ever done up till now.

And with the spirit of the coming holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Bon Appétit!

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. 

I. MAN TO WOMAN, PEER TO PREY

Do you smoke?

Never mind. Don’t. It’s a bad habit.

Some of the female Yazidi soldiers we bring in here, they enjoy the cigarette more often than you’d think. Believe me when I say I’ve directly observed the blackened lungs amongst some of our provisions which does not make for good eating. No choice but to throw them to the dogs. And surprise, surprise, not many are well groomed which is typical in the theatre of war. And they have a tendency to soil themselves once we reveal what we would do to their corpses. So we had to learn how to wash and groom them and what do you know? Their true beauty unfettered by dirt, blood and grime would shine in the end.

Clean meat is the best meat!

Now here is the part in the movies where the villain would begin revealing his plans to the captured heroine, giving her enough time to escape, or for her friends to come to her rescue at the death, no? And we as the audience, scream at the villain:

“How stupid can you be?”

“Get it over with!”

“Why wait?”

“Kill her now, you idiot!”

But that's the thing with movies. They're movies. The heroes are written to survive thanks to the screenwriter. The good guys win and the bad guys lose. That is what the audience came to see. Here, I have no problem doing the villain’s exposition, because... I am a fan of the movies with the bad endings. And. if it hadn’t been obvious by now, we live in real life. The heroine gets humiliated, violated, sexually molested in the most heinous way, and then… yes, no need for me to say further, as you’ve already seen what we do.

No, my dear. No last minute saviours. Only the spirits of Esarhaddon, Ashurbanipal and their victims whisper within these halls. Bad ending for you, I’m afraid.

Quite magnificent, isn’t it, this subterranean marvel? Amazing. Quite amazing. Merely a decade ago, I couldn’t have imagined that such a place still existed. Gone like the Gardens of Babylon. Maybe only in the lost memory of the ancient Sargonid kings of old. Do you know how does a monument managed to stay preserved in such an excellent state?

Sand and secrets, my dear. Sand, and secrets.

I was disappointed that the American had not been as intrigued by this place as you are. She was remarkable in her lack of empathy and curiosity over the people of the region she is supposed to report. All she ever did was to wail about of her credentials and how many powerful people she knew. And she begged and pleaded all the way to the very end with empty promises and platitudes. She is what the Russians would call, a “polezniye duraki”. A useful idiot. A propaganda mouthpiece for her government. And when she served her purpose and rendered expendable, well, who did you think offered her up to me?

The same people who led you to my parlor, of course!

I relished telling her during her last moments that she ultimately had the privilege of walking in the shoes of the women fighters she had been embedded with, to be able to finally participate as part of her story. A true interactive experience! Risking her life for the scoop, ladies and gentlemen! Give her that well-deserved Pulitzer Prize! Bravo!

We’ve documented it all with her own equipment of course, everything, from the rape, the beheading, the slaughter, even the eating, like a good journalist and terrorist would. A true immersive experience. Enough footage that would make one’s skin crawl. Both a very dark documentary and snuff film combined!

Would you like to see? I'm sure you would. Proof of life, or death, of course. That's what you came here for. But sadly for you, this is a one way trip for you. Your bosses I assure you, don't expect you back.

Back to the American, I must admit a certain relish when she resorted to name-calling in the end, but when she called me an ignorant, uneducated Qu’ran thumper. Now, that had gone too far.

If she only knew like you knew... that we've had to play that convenient role as the abhorrent terrorist, destroyer of culture, history and precious ancient monuments. We’ve had to play our role as the perfect nemesis for the Western military might funded by American taxpayer dollars. How else would they continue to justify their existence outside of complete and total global war?

Image 2 (1 complete colored work): The journalist violated.

Who did she think created us?

I thought she’d knew. I'd expected her to be covert CIA part of Operation Mockingbird. But I was disappointed to find that she was as hollow as the the carcass we had transformed her into in our abattoir.

Quite the elegant hypocrite which made for exquisite eating! It really did add an extra spice to her flavour.

Image 3 (1 complete colored work): The journalist violated again.

As with every clandestine operation worth its salt, nothing is ever done with a singular purpose. We didn’t just play the convenient fall guy with the desecration of historical monuments. We also helped hide the real treasures by destroying its ingress. Destroy the edifice above, conceal the tunnels below.

Perhaps, you already know about this with your level of clearance. Speaking of which, I’ve read your dossier and I’m intrigued with your Bachelor’s Degree in Ancient Civilization. You can’t imagine my delight in finally having someone worth to talk to. My brothers in arms, I love them all, but they make such boring conversationalists! I’m sure you won’t mind a few moments of further exposition as I think you’ll find this place interesting. Man to woman, peer to “prey”. If you don’t like it, think of this as an extra extension to your life span, if only for a few more hours. Consider this a final act of benevolence, seeing your interest in ancient history.

Some scholars will dispute this but did you know that the great king Ashurbanipal had been one of the first Assyrian monarchs who knew how to read and write at an expert level?

Oh yes. Having four elder brothers borne by King Esarhaddon, his father, Ashurbanipal had not been intended to be a ruler. Instead, his early education indicated that he was meant for a role as a priest and a scribe, which explained his unusual proficiency of literature, history, the arts and esoteric knowledge which was unbecoming of a monarch at the time. For the norm of an Assyrian monarch was to only know battle strategems, politics and the art of rule and war. But as fate would have it, the eldest heir unexpectedly perished in battle against the Elamites. Somehow, his father saw something special in him enough to pass over the second eldest, Shamash-shum-ukin who should have been the natural successor.

How did the youngest son of King Esarhaddon supersede his older siblings? Perhaps he bore a rare talent? Maybe intelligence? Or that King Esarhaddon saw in Ashurbanipal, a little bit of himself in his younger son. This should be no surprise, as Esarhaddon himself had been the 5th son of his own father, Sennacherib. Somehow, a burgeoning tradition had emerged for this had not been the norm among Assyrian monarchy until then.

Where am I going with this, you ask?

Well… there had been another rumour, a matter of furtive debate within the ranks of my brotherhood, the Secret Commonwealth, for it involves the history of our cult’s founding. You should not be surprised that this is a knowledge not for public consumption. Shall I reveal it? This knowledge would certainly mean death to the uninitiated. But of course, this fate befits you, my dear! Why not? I have a weakness for taunting my food.

Let’s begin…

II. THE NAMELESS ORACLE

Once upon a time, at the outskirts of the sacred city of Harran, a slave girl whose name had been forgotten over time, fell into a fit and began to speak in tongues. Then loud and clear, through the ancient streets she ran and proclaimed a grand prophecy so significant that it had even reached the ears of King Esarhaddon himself.

The great king…, the mighty king, king of the Universe, king of Assyria, viceroy of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad, son of Sennacherib, grandson of Sargon, who under the protection of Assur, Sin, Shamash, Nabu, Marduk, Ishtar of Nineveh, Ishtar of Arbela, the great gods, his lords, made his way from the rising to the setting sun, having no rival.

It was these words that were written on all official manuscripts and tablets, a phrase preceded every official speech and declarations.

But the murmured whispers of the slave girl's prophecy remained persistent amongst the townsfolks between Harran to Nineveh.

“This is the word of the god Nusku, God of Fire and Light, Protector of the Night, son of Sin, God of the Moon,… The throne belongs to Sasí and I shall destroy the name and all the seeds of Sennacherib!”

And these few simple words from the nameless girl, now known to historians as the Oracle of Nusku were enough to shake the great King Esarhaddon's world, this conqueror of kingdoms, destroyer of Gods.

They had been enough to take root within the townsfolk and spark a movement towards rebellion under the King’s rule and cultivate a sense of paranoia among the king despite his courts astrologers’ persistent assurances.

Eventually, tired of the simpering courtiers who feared execution when he valued truth over platitudes, he turned to one of his youngest and brightest, Ashurbanipal who else? It had been through him and the ancient wisdom of Sumer and Akkad, and some say, even knowledge that came all the way from Western Mediterranean Civilizations, that he learned of ancient knowledges, rituals and incantations, one of which was the ritual of the Substitute King to combat these dark omens.

“For a hundred days, go into hiding. Find a commoner whose appearance mirrors my king, let him bear the curse of Nusku. Let him wear your crown and your royal clothes, eat your royal food, sleep in your royal bed. Learn of the ways of the farmer, and the evil spirits out to cause you harm will be fooled. And at the end, the false king shall be put to death with all his sins and misfortune of Nusku to the grave. And evil will be like the passing of the storm. Do this every year until the source of the prophecy Sasí the usurper, his conspirators and the source of this divine evil magic, the slave girl, this Oracle of Nusku, is brought to court."

And now here comes the fun part. Here's the second addendum to the ritual of the Substitute King that was conveniently removed from the ancient tablets found in Nineveh. Think of those as the redacted versions from FOIA requests. I happen to know that the ritual continues in the following:

Then the flesh of this divine vessel shall be consumed as one would a goat or lamb. Build a great temple upon the foundation of her bones, seek worship to the new deity of this Oracle, seek out her true name, chant with her true name as this new Goddess. Seek her forgiveness and her blessing, and renounce Sin, God of the Moon, and pledge renewed worship to the son Nusku, God of Light and Flame. Until then only can the cursed receive the light's blessings and the Oracle's prophecy can be extinguished.”

And fortunately, for Esarhaddon, through his network of spies, and despite the elusive nature of Sasí, the Oracle and their fellow conspirators, after almost a full year of eluding capture, they had finally been caught and brought to trial in Nineveh. All were executed, save for the Oracle who receive a very special treatment. Here in this very hall, Esarhaddon, Ashurbanipal, and a select few chosen amongst their most trusted advisors and servants, spent days, maybe weeks, abusing, violating, torturing the slave girl, attempting to force her to reveal her true name.

Image 6: (1 work in progress) The flesh of the Oracle among other meats

But they had been unsuccessful. She succumbed before they had managed to extricated the secret from her breath. However, the ritual continued.

They prepared a stew as the ritual demanded, that she'd be prepared as one would a goat for stew. They even included the devilish recipe in the inscriptions which read:

Prepare water. Add fat. Sear. Add salt, beer, onion, arugula, cilantro, samidu, cumin and beets. Put the ingredients in the cooking vessel and add crushed leeks and garlic. Sprinkle the cooking mixture with coriander on top. Add suhutinnu and fresh cilantro.

And for three years, Esarhaddon continued this ritual. Along with that comes other subjects. Of false kings and false oracles. Devoured and these times, their names revealed and then interred into this blasphemous ossuary. But it had been clear that the first Oracle was the one that mattered.

Unfortunately for Esarhaddon, only half of the prophecy had been averted for he had not been able to discover the true name of the slave girl. And that is of Sasí, the head conspirator, and Master of the said slave, who was captured and executed. In the end, due to this failure, could not escape his poor health during the last few years of his reign, constantly falling into bouts of depression and paranoia until finally, during a stopover in Harran, the birthplace of the Oracle, he fell ill and died of natural... or some say, "unnatural" causes.

And to Ashurbanipal goes the throne. His reign would be marked by great successes, expanding the Assyrian Empire to the largest it had ever been and ever would be. For as long as he had lived, Assyria would experience levels of prosperity unmatched by his forebears. He conquered and destroyed his enemies of Elam and Babylon. Sacked their cities as his father and his father's father had. His victories had been so complete that he became bored of war and during much of his reign, turned his ambitions towards building rather than burning. And that was when his great architectural projects began, including the Library of his name in Nineveh, and more impressively, this monument we are in here, the Great Temple Mausoleum of the Oracle of Nusku, the Nameless.

Somehow, he probably knew he could never evade the curse of the Nameless Oracle and he lived his life hard through his successes, and tried to future-proof his kingdom strong enough to withstand any divine curse. Even then, all his efforts went to dust except the library, the language of the Assyrians, and to the Secret Commonwealth, the knowledge of the whereabouts of the Temple Mausoleum.

For in the end, he too fell ill and died and upon his absence, old enemies came together, the Medes, the Scythians and the Babylonians came together and vanquished the Assyrian Kingdom plagued by weak heirs, infighting and civil war. And like his father before him who perished in Harran, so did the last remnants of the Assyrians who took refuge in that same town of the Oracle, so went to dust, a 2000 year old Empire and all their gods.

III. EPILOGUE

I can't help but think of a Shakespearian quote bastardized.

"A Name, A Name. My Kingdom for a Name!"

If he had been wiser, he would have been a better father and raised more capable heirs who embodied the more war-like nature of his predecessors, instead of burying himself into his books and knowledge of ancient wisdoms. Or perhaps he saw that his sons do not share his particular diet for Oracles to continue this secret cult. Or perhaps maybe this cult did continue, but operated in the shadows for there remained another mystery.

See the motifs within these halls' artwork? The sculptures and hieroglyphs are quite unlike those you see up above and shipped over to the British Museum. Of winged human-headed lions and Lion Hunts. Not at all.

Here, you see the motif of a different sort. Not quite unlike those found in the faraway volcano-blasted temples in Minoa, where the famed myth of the Minotaur and the Labyrinth began. Are they related somehow? Was that where Ashurbanipal learned of the ritual of the Substitute King or the Eating of the Oracle? In the spirit of that famous History Channel documentary, "some Secret Commonwealth theorists say... yes!"

Okay, that's the end of my lecture. Thank you for humouring me. Now. That story helped me work out an appetite and now, I'm starting to get hungry! Are you ready?

-- the end --

SUPPLEMENTAL ARTWORKS

Images 7-8 (2 works-in-progress of an earlier scene): Here are the works in progress of of the journalist violated.

Image 9 (1 sketches): Black & white sketch of the journalist carved up and mocked.

Image 10 (1 black & white sketch of a previous scene): Proposed scene of the carcass of one of the sacrifices of the corrupted Assyrian cult. Girl, surrounded by animals.

Image 11-14 (2 sketches in black & white & 2 coloured works in progress): The following are more sketches and works in progress from the current update's main story.

BONUS ARTWORKS

Image 15 (1 sketch in black & white): Sketch from another scene from the historical fiction project, DOOMED RAIDER.

Image 16 (1 sketch in black & white): Sketch from a scene thanks to a patron sponsor.