Where Have All the Druids Gone? ((Story))


Vigtor had been on the Earth for many years. One might say, in the Millennial lingo, that he had gotten a Bee before it became cool. Remember the Druids of Stonehenge? All Bees (well, not all, but it’s less complicated to say they were). Not all of them had been from England, either. One hailed all the way from the Aborigines of Australia. For Vigtor’s part, he had come from a small village in what is now Russia, the name now forgotten to him. From time to time during his long span of life, he had gone back to where he thought the village had been, but so much has changed…

One could say Vigtor was the last living Druid, but that was not entirely true. New Druids seemed to be born every day. But Vigtor would often say he worked hard for the knowledge he has, therefore, that makes him the last Druid that matters.

It was 1962 when Vigtor was “recruited” by the Dragon. What does one do when the Templars are too rigid and the Illuminati are willing to scorch the earth for their bottom line,and yet one fits in with neither? There is always Orochi or the Phonoecians, but does one of the Old Order condone destroying the natural order or stealing for profit alone? Rhetorical question. The Dragon has long told the Druid of his importance in the models and yet, after over 45 years, Vigtor still cannot read these models, so he shrugs and takes their word for it.

In the 1970s, the occult became all the craze and this was when Vigtor came up with his idea: Widdershins Way. He wanted to create a completely comprehensive and inclusive retail model for all kinds of practitioners. This was a perfect locus for the machinations of the Dragon-- misdirected shipments, putting the wrong objects in the right hands… not every shipment goes wonky, but if one of a mathematical mind were to examine the shipments, both accurate and incorrect, one would find a complex pattern.

The Tokyo attack changed much within Vigtor. Like the gods of the forest, he could (and still can) feel the invasion of the Filth. Every day, Vigtor writes in his diary, fearing his mind will one day go like so many other victims of the Filth. His voice mixes with Gaia’s. It is often difficult to tell one apart from the other. That’s the downside of being so damned old.