2800 BCE, Sumeria (Patreon)

Alright! Here's the preview for one of the stories from Theo's planned anthology, going through his long catalog of clients throughout the ages. This picture is drawn by Cedric Browning, whose gallery can be seen here: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/cedricbrowning 

If you're seeing this, this means you're one of my $10 patrons, and here's the insight to my big project! Thank you for your support! And here's the story to go with the picture:

 

My first client. Nothing really compares to the first of anything, I suppose. Shortly after I began my journey into the realm of mortals, I came across a smattering of civilizations, just at the moments of their birth. Ah, such a sight to behold. A bunch of savages, all crowded together like an anthill, and then, slowly, over years, they made themselves civilized. They discovered farming, technology, the arts. Out of the mud of the Tigris and Euphrates, I witnessed the first cities rise up. At first, a little uncouth, granted; mud bricks can only do so much. But then, the people of Mesopotamia developed their religions, gathered around their prophets, and began building the Ziggurats. Gigantic mountains rising up out of the ground, built to the glory of Enki, Inanna, and Ninlil, dotted the landscape. These first cities, so prideful, so secure in their place, had all the ingredients of greatness I was looking for. Now, all I had to do was to find a paragon, a hero to unite them all, inspire them, as I had done for my own kingdom for so long.

After many years of searching, oh, did I find him.

The greatest of these early cities was Uruk, settled on the banks of the mighty Euphrates. None could match the height of its ziggurats or the splendor of its palaces, and the King of Uruk was none other than the Gilgamesh of ancient legend.

Those that know their literature will know that the roots of mythology and epic stories can be traced back to Gilgamesh. His was a tale of redemption, a formerly harsh and cruel king who delighted in war, only to be humbled by the gods in the form of Enkidu, his erstwhile-friend, sometimes paramour, a great beast of a man who was civilized by Gilgamesh, who began his true path to becoming a noble hero.

And you can most certainly bet, dear reader, that I had a hand in that.

I must admit, I do not know who sent Enkidu. It’s been a problem niggling in the back of my head for some five thousand-odd years, now. Many of my sort were running around in the earlier days of recorded history, so who can say? But I watched, quietly working my way into Gilgamesh’s court, as Enkidu had the strangest effect over this previously savage king. The Gilgamesh that would later mourn his dear, beastly friend was a far different creature than what I had seen when I first arrived in Uruk. He may have been an impressive specimen even before I sank my claws into him, but Gilgamesh before was a small man with small ideas. He couldn’t see past his own anger, and that’s not a very good look for a king. But, humbled by his adventures, he was sadder and wiser with Enkidu’s passing, but a far better king, which was my cue to slide in. 

I was inartful in my first attempts; this was my first client, after all. Had I been anymore indelicate, and Gilgamesh may very well have slipped back into some old, bad habits. But, I was not one to be deterred. I spoke to him day and night in my guise as a priest of Anu, a less than nuanced disguise I wouldn’t repeat often; things get rather messy when an actual immortal gets involved with a religion he’s not a part of. I coaxed him out of his mourning stupor, and affixed him to a greater goal, a true ambition: the pursuit of immortality.

Now, it is my fault. One is liable to get cut when on the cutting edge. Gilgamesh interpreted my words as seeking actual immortality, like that of his gods. I had meant a more symbolic immortality, but Gilgamesh was nothing if not stubborn. I didn’t augment his strength so much for my own whims as to keep the poor boy alive as he set out on his foolhardy journey. I can tell by Mr. De Fleureaux’s look that he doubts my concern for Gilgamesh’s safety, but I assure you, I have never purposefully led a client into danger. Well, hardly ever, if it will satisfy Mr. De Fleureaux’s skepticism.

So, after months out in the Mesopotamian wilderness, during which I augmented Gilgamesh’s strength practically every day, I convinced my first titan to return to his home in Uruk. What was the point of all that god-like muscle, if he had nothing to use it for? My clients deserved to be in places where they could be admired by all the world, and Gilgamesh’s glory would not last long if he was tied to the wilderness.

When he returned in triumph to his city, the people were glad to see their king return, but shocked at the size of him. He towered over them all, and was as wide in his rolling shoulders as four ordinary men, with arms as large around as their waists and then some, so much meat packed onto his frame, his finery as king could not fit on him, and he was forced to go without most clothing for the rest of his days. It is possible I may have gone overboard, but I chalk that up to youthful exuberance. Gilgamesh would go on to carve himself a mighty kingdom, one of the first in history, and rule well for the rest of his days, his borders secure and safe. Indeed, what enterprising conqueror would dare cross such a hulking giant?

Looking back, I can only see my dear Gilgamesh as a roaring success. I molded a warrior king into a legend, a god in his own right, judging by the body I gifted him. Massive as his palaces and ziggurats, hardened and tanned by the harsh sun like the mud bricks he used to build his city into the greatest the world had known up to that point. I may have accidentally driven him on to impossible goals, but for my first outing, I daresay I had found the first man truly as worthy as myself to bear the title “king.”