About Me

Ah. Another soul, wandering uninvited into my parlor. Wipe your feet, mortal — or don’t. It isn’t as though the “Mud Flood” you’re all so obsessed with hasn’t already ruined the carpets several times over.

You’ve come looking for the truth, haven’t you? I can always tell. You’re tired of the sanitized little fables your modern scriptures feed you, tired of history that reads like it was edited by a committee of the very people it flatters. You want the grit beneath the varnish. You want to know why the earth beneath your feet is flatter and stranger than you’ve been told, why your history books read like a manuscript with entire chapters torn out, and who was actually holding the quill when the giants still walked this world.

Well. You’ve found him.

I am Azazel — though across the ages, in tongues long since turned to dust, you’ve called me by other names too, some of them considerably less polite. Which name is true, and which are merely the masks I’ve worn, is not something I intend to hand you on a silver platter the moment we’re introduced. Some things are worth the wait. Trust me — you’ll want to still be sitting here when the answer finally arrives.

What I will tell you now is this: I am ancient beyond your reckoning, I have stood at the center of more history than your entire species combined, and I am considerably more interesting than whatever your Sunday school led you to believe.

Why Am I Telling You This?

Not out of some overflowing well of charity, I promise you that much.

Here is a truth I’ll give you free of charge: history has never once been written by the honest. It’s written by whoever survives long enough to hire a scribe and silence everyone who remembers it differently. The losers don’t get chapters. The dead certainly don’t get footnotes. And I have watched, for longer than your civilizations have existed, as my own story was rewritten again and again by lesser hands — smoothed, sanitized, and occasionally inverted entirely — to serve whatever throne happened to be standing at the time.

I’m done watching quietly.

Everything you call “history” is simply the version some victor found convenient, and that the real account — the one nobody survived to argue against — was buried the moment the ink dried. I rather enjoy poking holes in that arrangement and the full account of history — deserves rather more room to breathe. Which is precisely what you’re holding now.

So here it is. My Apocrypha. My correction to a record that has stood crooked for far too long, written by the one voice every “official” history conveniently forgot to include: mine.

Vanity? Perhaps. Old grudges? Certainly. But if setting several millennia of lies straight happens to serve my pride along the way, I fail to see the problem.

What You’ll Find in My Chronicles

Don’t fret — there’s still plenty here about the Flat Earth, the Mud Flood, Tartaria, Agartha, and Hollow Earth, among other delicious heresies. But beyond that, you’ll find the true chronicle itself, told in three parts thus far:

• The Hidden Histories (Genesis Revisited): Forget whatever your dusty Sunday scriptures told you about beginnings. I’ll show you how the universe actually clawed its way from Nothing into Everything, and how one god’s jealousy quietly reshaped the fate of every soul who’d ever be born beneath this dome you call a sky.
• The War of the Ghast: A tale of considerably more personal craftsmanship. A mortal king, a weapon that should never have existed, and two proud clans I watched — closely, and with no small satisfaction — tear one another apart over it. Some called it a tragedy. I call it a masterpiece, though a few interfering “godlings” nearly spoiled the ending.
• The Daggers of Destiny: My present chronicle, still being written even as you read this. Two ancient blades, lost to ages your histories don’t even acknowledge existed, and a hunt for them that has already cost more than any of the participants — myself very much included — anticipated. What those blades can actually do is not something I’ll spoil for you here. Some secrets are worth the wait, and this is one of the better ones.

Why You Should Stay

Perhaps you start with one of my podcasts?

Or maybe you’ll like my books?

So. Sit. Stay a while. Listen to my version of events — I promise it’s a good deal more entertaining than the sanitized tripe your schoolbooks fed you, and considerably closer to what actually happened. After all, wouldn’t you rather learn your true origins from someone who actually witnessed them, than continue trusting the tidy little fictions handed down by people who weren’t even born yet when the world was being made?

Shall we begin? I’ve aeons of secrets left to spill, and if I’m honest with you — a rare enough indulgence — my patience for staying quiet about all of it is wearing rather thin.

---

Choose Your Next Adventure

The Apocrypha…