24 Tristan by Brandon Michael Pierce
In a deep dark forest in the mountains outside of Crete, Tristan stands before a twisted oak, hooded and
cloaked. The canopy of the nearby trees blocks nearly every drop of light but it seems that the location of
this tree glows with the light of the Three Realms. The sentinel-like trees stand guard forming a large
circle around this one lonely tree which stands taller than the others but below its canopy it holds no
branches that one could easily reach. With his hand flat upon the gnarled bark of the trunk of this unique
tree on the island Tristan’s eyes close to find a vision of the tree in its youth, being planted by the Old
Gods. Tristan was always such an easy going individual who was a little bit of a city boy, born in Athens
who had fallen in love with the country life on the island of Crete, within which he had met the love of his
life, Micah.
From childhood, Tristan had been drawn to nature, in a religious sense. He spent every moment
he could out walking the paths of the forests, seeking out solitude and serenity, discovering sights that
have not been seen since the ancients had journeyed along them before the rise of Greece. One may even
say that Tristan found his religion in Nature, having been introduced to the primordial Goddess deep
within those wooded areas that he traversed so often. She appeared to him in the form of a lovely mother
figure, though She is young or old as She pleases. Her epithets include that of the maiden, the mother, and
the crone. Her true form is an imperceivable energy that is the creative spark that fuels all creation. Her
most favored form is that of a dark goddess of the Underworld carrying Her torches, a dagger, and the
Keys. Often seen accompanied by baying black dogs or snakes. Her form ghastly, yet beautiful, Her hair
takes upon itself the black sheen of a raven, her skin porcelain white though often She tans it. She prefers
cloaked. The canopy of the nearby trees blocks nearly every drop of light but it seems that the location of
this tree glows with the light of the Three Realms. The sentinel-like trees stand guard forming a large
circle around this one lonely tree which stands taller than the others but below its canopy it holds no
branches that one could easily reach. With his hand flat upon the gnarled bark of the trunk of this unique
tree on the island Tristan’s eyes close to find a vision of the tree in its youth, being planted by the Old
Gods. Tristan was always such an easy going individual who was a little bit of a city boy, born in Athens
who had fallen in love with the country life on the island of Crete, within which he had met the love of his
life, Micah.
From childhood, Tristan had been drawn to nature, in a religious sense. He spent every moment
he could out walking the paths of the forests, seeking out solitude and serenity, discovering sights that
have not been seen since the ancients had journeyed along them before the rise of Greece. One may even
say that Tristan found his religion in Nature, having been introduced to the primordial Goddess deep
within those wooded areas that he traversed so often. She appeared to him in the form of a lovely mother
figure, though She is young or old as She pleases. Her epithets include that of the maiden, the mother, and
the crone. Her true form is an imperceivable energy that is the creative spark that fuels all creation. Her
most favored form is that of a dark goddess of the Underworld carrying Her torches, a dagger, and the
Keys. Often seen accompanied by baying black dogs or snakes. Her form ghastly, yet beautiful, Her hair
takes upon itself the black sheen of a raven, her skin porcelain white though often She tans it. She prefers
the garb of the ancient Greco-Roman Ionic robe and also Her hooded cloak. The goddess blessed him
kindly, granting him a keen sense and was given the gift of clairvoyance.
As an adult of twenty-five years of age, Tristan stands about 6’2 with short brown hair and green
eyes. His eyes shone like emeralds beneath the surface of a creek’s waters, and his eyes even seemed to
reflect the moving waters of the creek at times. Having adapted the country life, Tristan had quite the bulk
to his body. He was not a ripped muscular man, but he was not overweight either. He looked as though he
ate well but maintained a great physical appearance through his daily workouts. His light skin tanned well
in the Summer months and he could maintain that tan throughout the cold, unforgiving months of Winter.
Despite his strength, Tristan was a gentle man and cared much about the people around him whether he
knew them personally or not. He was the type to hunt and farm and anything he could spare from his
labor he would donate to the temples to distribute amongst those who were less fortunate.
Tristan’s journey led him down a long and often tedious path full of snares meant to hinder his
progression through life but he was always faithful to that queenly goddess he met so many years ago and
She looked upon him with such high admiration that She never allowed Tristan to face any challenge
alone. The great goddess had stood by Tristan and chose him for a purpose that he has yet to learn. She,
Herself, would place challenges before him so that she could test his faith and his strengths. The great
goddess had plans for him, greater than She even realized when She chose him.
Tristan was unaware of his calling, for the most part. He had often suspected that there was
something different about him. He had the gift of prophecy, Tristan held the gifts of the oracles though his
gift was greater than that of even the Oracle at Delphi. His mother had warned Tristan at an early age to
never reveal his gift in these times. Gifts of magick and Witchcraft were not looked upon graciously
anymore. Priests and priestesses of the gods were often being burned at the stake or drowned as examples
of the New Faith’s zero tolerance towards Witchcraft and Idol worship.
Tristan sees the life of the tree in his mind’s eye, thousands of years pass in just a moment’s time.
There is something marvellous about this tree, a feeling of awe washes over anybody who were to touch
but a leaf of the tree and Tristan is determined to know its story. Having been to this tree more times than
kindly, granting him a keen sense and was given the gift of clairvoyance.
As an adult of twenty-five years of age, Tristan stands about 6’2 with short brown hair and green
eyes. His eyes shone like emeralds beneath the surface of a creek’s waters, and his eyes even seemed to
reflect the moving waters of the creek at times. Having adapted the country life, Tristan had quite the bulk
to his body. He was not a ripped muscular man, but he was not overweight either. He looked as though he
ate well but maintained a great physical appearance through his daily workouts. His light skin tanned well
in the Summer months and he could maintain that tan throughout the cold, unforgiving months of Winter.
Despite his strength, Tristan was a gentle man and cared much about the people around him whether he
knew them personally or not. He was the type to hunt and farm and anything he could spare from his
labor he would donate to the temples to distribute amongst those who were less fortunate.
Tristan’s journey led him down a long and often tedious path full of snares meant to hinder his
progression through life but he was always faithful to that queenly goddess he met so many years ago and
She looked upon him with such high admiration that She never allowed Tristan to face any challenge
alone. The great goddess had stood by Tristan and chose him for a purpose that he has yet to learn. She,
Herself, would place challenges before him so that she could test his faith and his strengths. The great
goddess had plans for him, greater than She even realized when She chose him.
Tristan was unaware of his calling, for the most part. He had often suspected that there was
something different about him. He had the gift of prophecy, Tristan held the gifts of the oracles though his
gift was greater than that of even the Oracle at Delphi. His mother had warned Tristan at an early age to
never reveal his gift in these times. Gifts of magick and Witchcraft were not looked upon graciously
anymore. Priests and priestesses of the gods were often being burned at the stake or drowned as examples
of the New Faith’s zero tolerance towards Witchcraft and Idol worship.
Tristan sees the life of the tree in his mind’s eye, thousands of years pass in just a moment’s time.
There is something marvellous about this tree, a feeling of awe washes over anybody who were to touch
but a leaf of the tree and Tristan is determined to know its story. Having been to this tree more times than
he can remember and using his clairvoyant powers to see its life each time, he finds that there is
information that the tree seems to not share with him. No matter how much energy he channels, the tree
just will not reveal its most treasured secrets. In every vision he channels, Tristan can tap into the
clairaudience and clairsentience to feel and hear the world of the time he is viewing, but for some
mysterious reason the visions of the Old Gods are different, being that the audio remains silent during the
planting of this tree. All that Tristan can grasp from it is a dense fog that obscures the forms of the gods
and emanates a powerful radiance of energy that would overwhelm the best of any psychic other than
him. Tristan suspects that this is an omen that he alone is meant to know the most intimate secrets that
this place withholds, though he tells nobody of this, not even his own mother for fear that they may find
him to be in arrogance. Arrogant was not a trait that Tristan carried
information that the tree seems to not share with him. No matter how much energy he channels, the tree
just will not reveal its most treasured secrets. In every vision he channels, Tristan can tap into the
clairaudience and clairsentience to feel and hear the world of the time he is viewing, but for some
mysterious reason the visions of the Old Gods are different, being that the audio remains silent during the
planting of this tree. All that Tristan can grasp from it is a dense fog that obscures the forms of the gods
and emanates a powerful radiance of energy that would overwhelm the best of any psychic other than
him. Tristan suspects that this is an omen that he alone is meant to know the most intimate secrets that
this place withholds, though he tells nobody of this, not even his own mother for fear that they may find
him to be in arrogance. Arrogant was not a trait that Tristan carried
