The year was 1333 and the World was still wilde and very naive...
December 1st, 2013
Greetings fellow Fantaseers & Dream Cyclists,
My name is Satyrus Jeering, and I am a Facemaker and Storyteller by trade. Meaning that I often make faces while telling stories, though I seldom tell stories while facing makers. Now before we begin, I suggest that due and large to the density of the following rant, that you lend me your undivided attention, for it will be needed if we intend to make any headway a'tall. That said, let us continue.
As you have no doubt presumed by now, I have been around for quite some time. In fact my age proves wrinkled enough that I rarely allow myself to be caught in the public eye without wearing a mask of my own devising (in an effort, that is, to keep the gawking minimal). Mind you, I have no shame of my age, rather, I aim to protect the fragile sensibilities of the youth surrounding me. And so I wear a mask... different by the day.
Throughout the course of my life to date, I have been summoned by a gaggle of the most curious personages of the modern world, with one request uniting their spanning existence. That one request, has of course been to fashion them each a one of a kind visage. Not a replacement nor an alteration to their existing face, but a face for the use of protection, parrying, escaping or gaming. For frolicking, marrying, parrying or parading. Whatever the case might have been, and as varying as the clients themselves, they would call on my services to devise a charm.
From Cleopatra to William Shakespeare, DaVinci to Lewis Carrol, my list of clients leaves few to be desired. Though you can be sure that while the following accounts are most marvelous, not one became out of simple or ordinary circumstances. For in fact, each of the visits I have paid, with the purpose of cranial conjuring, has been riddled with perilous passages and wonderous windings. Yes I believe that these tails of alchemical anatomy that I now share with you, reader, will be found to be undeniably true by the mere impossible immensity of their fantastical weaving. And as strangely as they befit the many journals of my fabled years, I feel strongly that they might find a place upon your inner shelves. For the beckoning like of what follows is awe-inspiring and filled with the dark mysteries of the journeying soul.
And so here it begins. A long, long tail. Long enough to strangle the most avid adventurer. An investigation into the truth of the matter. A matter of facts which lie behind, under and between the textbook versions of complacent Western history.
A tail of magic, manifestation and masks.