Griffen Helm
Bio
Griffen Helm; Writer of Things.
Fair Warning my work can be pretty violent, rude, lewd, and explicit; including themes of depression suicide, etc.
Stories (41)
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Citadel
“It is symbiotic. It has to be. The relationship between a citadel and its Hermit Titian. We have to trust that it's symbiotic. We have to trust that it does not hate us for what we must do to survive. Our lives are entwined with that of the titan. If it were to die, we would be left adrift in the cold vacuum of space; incapable of our hunts, slowly drifting to our demise..”
By Griffen Helm4 months ago in Art
Wraith
Practicing necromancy is quite a difficult endeavor. Firstly you need a subject, a dead body in layman's terms. Which depending on where you live is a surprisingly difficult thing to accomplish. Secondly you need to know all the proper spells and incantations my master Daniel had seen to that. Finally, this can be the most difficult of all. You need to learn how to talk properly. The dad loves to talk, but what they have to say is never particularly of interest to the caster.
By Griffen Helm4 months ago in Art
Will'O the Wisp
They were to watch; It was their purpose, their delight, their obsession. Opposite them in silent vigil, was the subject of that obsession, creature of Shadow birthed of dark light. In this way, we, viewers of this voyeuristic duet, were another part of this performance of viewership, a trifecta complete.
By Griffen Helm4 months ago in Art
Centaur or Ethereal Horse Monster
The Beast trod the ash planes; drank of the brimstone lakes and fed on the fire spewing from within the mountains. Long ago it had been one of many - a lick of crimson fire within a raging inferno. Now it was of a dying breed, an ember pettering out among those most stubborn of ebony coals.
By Griffen Helm5 months ago in Art
Homunculi or Big Rock Monster
If it could wish, it would have wished to know how to count; not that it would have helped much because it wouldn't have thought to start counting until long after it had begun walking. It was the fault of some pompously tumultuous wizard, one who had taken the most basic of spell animating that which is inanimate and attempting to find the limits of what that spell can do without additional powers or rituals or incantations.
By Griffen Helm5 months ago in Art
When you're gone. Content Warning.
Why do we care about people after they’re dead? In both the literal and social aspects? I have people in my family who have passed away, and I also have former friends who are dead to me. Frankly, it's ridiculous to dwell on people that you can no longer dwell among (save for a shovel pointed at the dirt or a gunman in attendance.) There is no more companionship to be gained, only the soft despair radiating from that part of your soul they used to visit.
By Griffen Helm2 years ago in Journal
The Rain, The World
I’ll often stand beneath the rain. It feels like a soothing balm gently calming the torrent that often crashes through my life. I used to think of it as purifying, that it could wash away every harsh memory entrenched in the fibres of my being; but that was impossible.
By Griffen Helm2 years ago in Earth
Urine Blues
It was so... odd. Typically you don’t find urine test bottles scattered around London. Hypodermic needles? Rubber bands and latex gloves? Of course but you can typically hazard a guess at what those are used for. But even then, you’d be hard-pressed to explain the radioactive blue liquid that currently resided in the bottle.
By Griffen Helm2 years ago in Fiction
