, , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m gonna start us off with a song.

Epic adventures in stories are something we all enjoy. We dream of living them. Sometimes we get to. The last three days were such a journey.

But such journeys are often marked by tragedy, and ours was as well.

My girlfriend, business partner, and love, R has a son. When she come to live with me, she left him behind because it was supposed to be a temporary stay, that became the effort to bring a new life. As soon as it looked as if she would be putting down roots, she wanted her son back. But her son’s father, and his father’s parents, did seek to deny the return of her son, though by law he should have been as it was a temporary guardianship that could be terminated at any time.

Last Tuesday, the Day of Tyr, we set off to the land of Maple Syrup and snow to seek the return of the lost little lamb. Three we were in number, a Svartwulf, a witch, and a kitsune, with various spirits in tow. By long hours of day and night did we travel, without pause, resting as others drove. It took us nearly a full twenty-four hours to arrive, only to find there were no rooms avail in town, and that R’s best friend, was giving shelter to R’s ex-bf, father of her son.

One of our foes.

R bears her friend no ill will. Her friend was also her ex’s friend, and wished to remain neutral. I am not of such a forgiving nature. But I left the choice to R. So with but hours to pass, we journeyed to the courthouse. Tired, ill prepared, with only our own council to matters of Law. I prayed to Odin and Tyr, and knew that I would have their aid to argue.

But our foes had come with a Lawyer most powerful and most devilish. No lawyer of family court was this, but a trial lawyer whose grandfather’s photograph adorns the very walls of the court where we were to do battle. The kitsune kept watch, while I stood with R at the front, to dance the silver tongue of mine against the rudder of the lawyer’s word ship.

Righteous was our cause, noble our effort.

But the land of VT is a land of poison and jackels. The lawyer struck first, demanding that all witnesses be sequestered so they not be influenced by the testimony of others. Of course, only two of his five witnesses left, the other three being R’s ex and his parents. So sundered was the support of R, and I cast out, unable to use the gifts of Odin and Tyr to aid. And while outside, conspire behind a closed door did the witnesses of the Lawyer, and gloat they did at R’s troubles.

But this was not the full devilry that transpired. For behind the closed door of the court, laws were broken, rights were sundered, the very constitution was spat upon.

They brought up mine and R’s religions as matters to judge the suitability of R to be a mother to her child. A clear violation of the 14th amendment of this land. The judge did not stop it. The lawyer even admitted that it was to judge suitability, an illegal act. They attacked R’s beliefs, they attacked our store as a Pagan business, and they attacked my religion because some practice a Blot, the blood offering, an act no different from mortal hunting or Kosher slaughter. They threw out the sacred and honest words of one of the local Community Elders, that spoke of R in noble terms, and told of her position in the community and of the community’s support for R. For two hours they lashed us for religion and religious business, they wasted the entire time of the trial, then protested that they had five witnesses and four affidavits to deliver. An ex that spent the first four years of his son’s life working 80 hour weeks so he would never have to be around his son, who had six months to come and take him, but begged off for no money while taking weekly trips with his new girlfriend, suddenly wants his son. It is an act to spite R, and nothing else.

They played the games of time, money, and religion.

There was no hope. No judgment would be given by the Judge “without all facts.” When told of the conspiring of witnesses, he shrugged and did nothing. The lawyer was cheered by the vicious beasts at his back. We hung our heads, and wept bitter tears, knowing that there was no hope. We could not return at the time they demanded, there was no way. R dropped the issue, with the legal note that she will be bring it back up in the future. Our rights were violated, the laws of this land broken. No fair trail was to be had in the land of VT, that poisoned, blighted land.

It ended with R getting to see her son for a few hours at McDonalds. He was brought there by his grandmother, while his grandfather lay in wait and attacked R, calling her slut and whore. The mind of the child has been poisoned, by the father and by the grandparents. Friends R has backed for years turned their backs upon her and would grant her no aid. Her family turned, most gleeful, one reluctant, but they turned on her as well.

R got to take an entire disposable camera’s worth of pics of her son. By this, we reckoned, the entire trip worth it, if for nothing else but to have those brief moments.

Epic adventures should never end in sorrow. Ours did. Now we must mend our wounds, and gather ourselves. We morn now, our loss. Dim the holidays are. But by faith, I believe this will pass. WE Will gather our forces, and try once more in the future. When we are ready, when allies beyond ignoring we have, lawyers and elders and money to truly wage a noble campaign. It will be on a ground of our choosing, where a fair trail can be had.We lost a battle, but not the war.

I ask of thee, spread our tale. Let this injustice be known far and wide throughout the Pagan and Heathen lands. Let it be known that VT the law was spat upon. Let it be known that lies were spoken, religions were attacked, and the very foundations of American Law were treated as less than dirt, in the names of petty vengeance. Let not our tail be lost in the dark, but share it with all. We ask no money, nor tribute to aid us. Only your support. Only your prayers. Only your words. Let it pass from one to another, let it rise in the minds of all of us. So that in the future, justice can prevail, and a true, lawful trial take place.

Yours, in Honor,

Lucius Svartwulf.