Sunday, June 19, 2005

As found on Steve's blog, reposted with permission:

A Tale of the Sitra Ahra

I will walk with sincerity of heart within my house.
I will set no worthless thing before my eyes;____
I hate the doers of evil deeds;______________
they shall not remain with me.______________
A crooked heart shall be far from me;_________
I will not know evil.
- Psalm 101____

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Goetia (on Sitra Ahra, North of Gan Hinom) there was an Asmodean who thought it would be amusing to visit all the tribes of the Shedim Iehudaim & make a census of all their fools.

In this irreverent spirit she left from the Asmodean capital in Amaymon, taking with her as many rolls of scroll as her dragon steed could carry. Within a few hours, she had flown over the Amaymonite countryside & landed in the county of Marbas. There, she harangued the people – making a joke of their politics, & calling their leonine accent barbarous. Before long, the masses of the Marbasites were outraged & chased her out of every one of their towns. Content with having recorded the names of those she had insulted, the Asmodean thought she would move on to the territory of a greater power.

Thus she travelled to the court of the Andrealpheans, where she mocked their pride, their feathers, & their sacred Art of Geometry. The distinguished crowd of learned men was severely flustered, so much that she barely escaped with her life – though she did take the time to write the names of her many victims.

Even more confident in her genius, the Asmodean went to Orobas, to Berith & to Buné – & every time got a very similar response. One day she grew tired of the duchies & decided to try her luck at a kingly court. Thus she flew to Peor, to the House of Balaam, & ridiculed their divinatory arts. She offended the seers & the sorcerers so much that furious magic shook the courtroom while she made her escape.

But just before she passed the threshold in haste, she noticed a peculiar raven-headed hominid sitting by the door, quite unmoved. On her way out she called to him – “why, are you not outraged?”

“No,” the he-demon said quite calmly, “I know that for all your cleverness, you would never dare to try your tricks where it really matters.”

Nearly forgetting the crowd behind her, the Asmodean laughed heartily, & said – “& where would that be?” To which the stranger replied “I am but an Amonite, but I know the Arts well. I will take you there.”

The next moment, the Asmodean found herself back in her native House of Asmoday, with the Amonite at her side. “Now, will you not also enlist your kind in the legion of fools?” he said, “Work your mischief! Look here – is that one's fleece not ridiculous? There! Are this one's horns not crooked?” The Asmodean nobles fumed, yet even though it was the Amonite who spoke, it is after their sister that they raged – for such is the Amonite gift to procure & to appease feuds.

Thus the scoffer, flanked by her brethren, begged for mercy before the Great Asmoday – but there is no mercy in Sitra Ahra, & her death was a long & painful one.

An interesting story. I like it.

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