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Past Lives

I urge you to share as well, if you went through this alone then you know how hard it can be, looking for answers and finding none, let these lost and alone people hear your story, let them know their are others out there. Send your story to the address below
OliverNightCat@hotmail.com
and tell me what it is you are submitting in subject.

    Barakus Leviathan,
    What I remember took place in 4th century Ireland, it did happen in this plain of existence, unlike with many otherkin. It was a dark time for my clan, for centuries we  lived amongst the people of the village in peace. In the decade before I was born the local church decided it was best for us to leave our homes moving out into the foot hills of the mountains where we errected a crude village in the valley land. The villagers still came to us in times of need, we were healers, see'ers, herbalist, when ever these things were needed, perhaps because a loved one was sick, they would come to us for aid. The price was never much livestock, a bushel of vegetables perhaps fabric to make new clothes. We were pushed aside but not forgotten.
    When I was born, the head druidic priest chose me as his heir, he was not my father, I do not recall anything of my parents. I know I was born in the village, to parents not of the druidic circle. Many children were chosen, called members of the old race.
    The old race were those who where born with the ability to shape shift, into forms other than human. I was a draconcat, as were others in the clan. The people of the village did not know that the druids they had coexisted with for centuries were not quite human. It was a secret kept within the clan, we were sworn to move about in shifted only after sunset and to steer clear of the village at all cost.
    The woman who raised me, was a wonderful healer. She had golden blonde hair, pale blue eyes, she was only about fifteen years older than I, but always seemed much wiser. She had a close relationship with the high priest, hence the reason I was left in her care. When shifted, she took the form of an owl.  Not just any owl, she still had large blue eyes and silver feathers, on the top of each wing were small fingers, much like the toes of an owl. She was very loving, and took great care of me.
    I learned to shift at a young age, the high priest who took the form of a fawn like creature took me out often teaching me to use the natural gifts that come with being a draconcat. He was very strict, with a strong respect for nature and its gifts.
    On certain nights of the month, we would travel out of the foot hills through the town and to the north, other clans would meet us there, at the old monolith, built by our people before the humans arrived to this land. We would dance and chant, play drums and sing songs, draw up energy from the earth the high priest and the woman who raised me would always lead these ceremonies. As the night drew on we took our other forms and went out into the night, hunting, having sex, resting, gathering food for the feast that would follow in the morning.
    The dragon which truly lead our clan lived deep under the earth, in caverns  under the mountains. Rarely if ever did we go visit him personally, he spoke to us through the bonfire, also at time he spoke into our minds. He was gentle, an earth dragon with infinite wisdom. He was the first to see the trouble ahead.
    He warned us of the bald man who would come from across the sea to destroy us, to turn the very people whom we had lived with, and healed, against us. And indeed it happened.
   He arrived in the village from over seas, coming to save the locals from the heathen beast whom resided in the forest and moors. Outraged to find that  the villagers consulted with us, cutting off the trade we had, cutting off the food we'd come to depend on in trade for our healing and spells.
    I was now coming into manhood, our people starving, in need of new clothes and lumber, winter set in. I'd recently begun hunting the sheep of the village that grazed in the foothills. With winter the villagers moved their herds closer to town. Still we were starving, though I swore never to shift near or in the village, I did it for her, for all of us.
    I'd only just begun my nights hunt when I was spotted. A young man came out to tend the sheep just as I had made my first kill. He shouted for help and it came.... they all came attacking me with clubs and torches. Forced to defend myself, I charged forward, giving myself a chance to escape in the trees.
    The bald man came out that night as I watched from the trees, he climbed to the gallows, which he insisted be erected to hang any suspected witches. He preached in a language I could hardly understand, the language used by people from the mainland. I couldn't understand what he said but saw the anger in his eyes.
    I left the tree to make my retreat, in my human form when I was spotted. He pointed a long bony finger at me and began to scream in his foreign tongue. The people I'd known for all my life turned to me and began to scream the same.
    As I returned home and told my family what had happened, they were not angry but still disappointed, the youngest of us would be led into the mountains to hide by the woman I'd come to think of as a mother. The elders would stay behind and deal with the wrath of the villagers.
   We heard them coming from far away, also smelling the smoke from the torches. As we headed, the woman who raised me fell behind, trampled in the manic retreat. I could only watch from my hiding spot as they approached and slaughtered the elders. She then took the form of the owl hoping to get away, but they caught her far to early. They proceeded to nail her wings to a board, the bald man approached ordering to change back into human form but she refused. After the torture began I joined the others in the mountains, unable to watch anymore.
   In the mountains we didn't survive long, our clothes tattered and our belly's hollow we began to die off one by one.
   As it came to be I was the only one left, stumbling, starving through the rock lands of the mountains, I came upon an old watch tower on a cliff edge. Over the years the cliff had drawn back collapsing a portion of the tower over the edge, resulting in a gaping hole.
    I entered the tower, rotting stairs spiraled up into the darkness above, a noose hung down the middle. I grabbed the noose and proceeded to climb the stairs. Reaching the top I began to sob. Then the dragon appeared, he flapped his tiny wings looking at me through the hole in the wall, he coaxed me not to do it. Telling me I was the last of the clan and I must go on. I screamed at him then, telling him to just leave me to die so I could again be with my family. Stomping my foot, shook the wobbly stairs of the tower and from them an owl fluttered out. A wave of sadness went over me and I jumped, the noose around my neck.
  This was hard for me to peice together from assorted dreams, visions, and images. Their are alot of holes and missing facts that I may never remember completely, I may add to it as I go on.  

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