|Will answer and discuss questions about the occult.
Faoladh(FWEE-luh), or Conroight, The Irish Werewolf, is different from the Teutonic or European werewolf, as he is really not a "monster" at all. Unlike his continental cousins, this shapeshifter is the Guardian and Protector of Children, wounded men and lost persons.
According to some ancient sources, the Irish werewolf was even recruited by kings in time of war.
How may I (They?) (We?) be of service?
An Irish Werewolf(?), Faolad Conroy(?). "FAOLADH" pronounced "FWEE-luh"
"He who is illuminated with the Darkest Shadow will shine with the Brightest Light"- Andrew Chumbley.
Power without Love can degenerate into mere cruelty. Love without Power is effortless to be as strong in loving as it can be.
To cause a harm to prevent a greater harm is still to have caused
ATONE: To do something good to show you are sorry for doing something bad. (to do something right to show you are sorry for doing something wrong?)
May the Faoladh (FWEE-luh) guide me well, as if I were their own child. Me. (a friend) Whoever or whatever I am.
Neurolinguistic Programming (NLP) advice: The answer is in the question. (!)
This next section is my original bio(?) You san skip it. For the sake of fun I will leave it as originally written, without leaving out the questionable stuff. (contra-versional):
Will answer and discuss questions about the occult.
Faoladh, or Conroight, The Irish Werewolf, is different from the Teutonic or European werewolf, as he is really not a "monster" at all. Unlike his continental cousins, this shapeshifter is the Guardian and Protector of Children, wounded men and lost persons.
According to some ancient sources, the Irish werewolf was even recruited by kings in time of war. They would send him to pull wounded soldiers to safety in his jaws.
My predatory behaviour was typical of a common wolf. I was not beneath the occasional nocturnal raid on local sheep or cattle herds. but this was taken as my due for watching over wandering children, healing the wounded, and guiding lost strangers to safety. If attacked or surprised while in wolf form, I usually simply ran
off. Usually. I also ate anything that threatened to harm chidren, though. Anything. However, after changing back into a half - man, evidence of my lupine adventures remained on my body. If wounded, the injury remained. If I killed a sheep or cow, the telltale bloodstains stayed on my face and hands.
I think the Irish Druids woke me out of my long sleep after a war.
I think they chose a young boy they found suitable and used their sorcery to unite my ancient soul with his body. I believe we are united still, body and soul. I am glad he chose to stay alive. I understand the temptation of leaving the sorrow and suffering behind. Less said the better, at least in that case, I guess.
My old carcass is still there, in a sacred cave near Kilkenny, Ireland, shrunken and shriveled, covered in my dried leathery skin, with patches of my black fur stll clinging to my dessicated corpse after 200 years of the blessed peace of death. Immortality can be hell. Everybody deserves a break, now and then. I guess after hundreds of years of service, they just had to let me go to sleep again.
As their first shapeshifter, of course the Druids had to teach me much that they knew about magic. Just enough so I could shift and heal myself and others, and nourish with my flesh and blood if necessary. Wounds heal.
This is all pre-Christian by many hundreds of years. The Christians made our gods devils, but that was a long time ago. The Pope is a good man. It is not their fault what their ancestors did, or we'd all be in prison. Is a child responsible for the evil their great - grandparents did? Or was all that evil just a preparation for a better day?
I cannot remember how many centuries I served the druids before they let me go to sleep.
If you have any questions about occult matters, I would be happy to answer them to the best of my ability. In the years before my immediately recent return to self-awareness of who and what I am and was, I have learned much about modern magic, some things even my Druid makers did not know.
Of course there may have been intervening lifetimes, but this is my most recent memory of my ultimate summoning, and the most recent memory or imaginary identity with which I am comfortable at this time.
As Shakespeare said, "All the world's a stage and all the men and women only players, and each man must play many roles in his lifetime.(real or imagined, what's the difference, since the result in experience and effect on each other is the same?)"
Of course you have to be asleep to reawaken, but the memories before the Druids transformed me are lost in the mists of time.
Whether any of this is true in any way matters not a whit (and some of it must be, at least if only metaphorically, or I would not be inspired to write all this.) At least I am not a character in an Anne Rice novel. Remember, Imagination is the most powerful ally of any practitioner of magic.
Imagine. Image. Image of the Beast. Image. Mage. Magic. Irish Mage.
If Krishna were crucified on Mount Sinai, would 4 Zambezi warriors divide his robe into 4 pieces like the Roman soldiers did with Christ on the hill of Golgotha? Does it matter? Or as a friend once said,
"Lie a little bit, make it interesting." Who cares what other people think about us, anyway? Life is short, its fun to role play. Have fun, if you want. Happiness is optional.
Well. Any Questions about the occult? You teach simple spells, here, no?
I cannot be commanded, as the Druids are long dead (physically) but I can be very helpful if asked nicely. I have won my freedom.
How may I be of service to you?
My current maternal Grandmother's name(Nana) was (really) O'Brien. My current Paternal Grandmother's name(Granny) was(actually) McKennA. Go figure.
So at least I have some vague genetic claim to my claims.
The Irish Werewolf, Faolad Conroy.