The Lore aka; What, or rather Who is Satyrus Jeering?
Greetings my fine feathered fiends, tis I, Satyrus Jeering.
Many of you are most likely confused as to what this is all about. And to tell you the truth, I haven't quite figured it out myself!
But in all actuality, this is the page where I will share old journal entries from time to time. I do not promise a regular update schedule, though the content will undoubtedly grow as time marches forth. Here is a general FAQ:
Name: Satyrus Jeering
Born: 1111 AR (After Rabbit)
Which presents the oldest of questions: what came first, the Rabbit or the Tail?
Died: That's not funny.
Birthplace: At Sea
Occupation: Facemaker & Storyteller
Age: You do the math.
If you have any specific questions you'd like answered, please send a letter to:
Attn: Satyrus Jeering
840 18th st
Des Moines, IA
Thank you for your interest in my work, and I bid you a good day.
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 tell stories while facing makers, and more often make faces while telling stories. Now before we begin, I suggest that due and large to the density of the following rant, you lend me your undivided attention, for it will be needed if we intend to make any headway a'tall.
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. I have no shame of my age mind you, rather, I aim to protect the fragile sensibilities of the youth surrounding me. And so when I go out, 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 been to fashion them each a unique visage. Not a replacement nor an alteration to their existing face, rather, faces for every type of occasion: protection, parrying, escaping and gaming; for frolicking, marrying, parrying or parading. Whatever the case might be, and as varied as the clients themselves, they call on me to provide this service. The service of the Facemaker.
From Cesar to Shakespeare, DaVinci to Lewis Carrol, my list of clients leaves few to be desired. 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 passage and wondrous windings. Yes, I believe that these tails of alchemical anatomy that I now share with you, reader, will be found as 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 also 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.
December 15th, 2013
As it happens to be...
I won't bore you with the needless details of my origins, but I will tell you this;
I was dropped head first into an island jungle shortly after my birth (somewhere amidst modern-day Micronesia), I was then licked clean and raised by wild dogs before being discovered by an elder Yapese Shaman. Most of the details of my time with those wonderful Yaps has been lost to selective memory repression. Though one thing I do recall is the amazing shape of Nareau's face, as his was the first human visage I had ever seen.
Nareau was the elder shaman whom brought me out of feral captivity, and helped to "Enlighten" me with the aid of some very dizzying, jungle medicine. As I stated, I do not remember much. But of the memories I have, well they are as vivid as the putrified, smoldering vine sap that Nareau funneled down my throat on the fateful day that he found me...
Copyright © Satyrus Jeering 2013. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this website may be reproduced without Satyrus Jeering's express consent.